Tremorsght

A few months later, in October, the boy would cheat on a test, in class, and be brought before the disciplinary committee. He would be given a week of detention and other punishments. In his defense, he would say this was the first time he had cheated. One of the teachers would contradict him. He would modify his statement: "it's the first time I've cheated this year," he would say. "And maybe once last year." The teacher who caught him cheating would say to the other teachers, after the boy was out of the room, "I can tell a psychopath. When I was working in prison (Canada) I met a lot of these types, all killers and rapists, and the only I was ever afraid of was the one who hung the little kids that lived next door. This one is like that."

This is the same boy who recently has been involved in a series of incidents. He beat up some smaller children. He had a tantrum on the soccer field. He intimidates class mates. One night near Fez, driving his car with three friends who were drunk, he ran over and killed a man on a bicycle, a father of five. No one saw any remorse after that.

He's big and powerful.

Today, on the last day of school, the boy got up close to Barbara, in a threatening way, and told her to shut up and leave him alone. She told me and I went to him. I will regret this, but at the time my anger got out of its box. He was being reprimanded by the head of school. I interrupted and drew him out of the office to a private part of the school house. He had a friend with him. 'You're a piece of shit," I said, getting in close. "You have no right to say that," he said. "You're a piece of shit," I repeated getting in still closer, in a whisper.