Corey parked outside the 7-11 and ran in to get some breakfast. At the register he paid $1.12 for two glazed cake donuts, and tried to ignore the echoes of his mother’s morning plea, “You’ll do better on the test if you eat something healthy.” Back in his truck, Corey put the vehicle in reverse, and then stuffed a donut into his mouth. Crumbs and glaze dribbled down his Weezer T-shirt, which he absently brushed off. The song on the radio blared some old-school U2 lyrics, and in between belting along with the chorus, Corey rehearsed the major plot events and metaphors in The Lord of the Flies. By the time he reached the school, the first light of morning peered over the hillside, and Corey was ready for the test.
He parked outside the English wing, grabbed his books, and ran towards the school. At Mrs. Taylor’s room, he swung open the door.
“Hey Mrs. Taylor. I’m ready for—,”
He stopped, his eyes blinking involuntarily. One..two..three blinks. At the front of the room, behind the overhead cart, a pair of stocking clad legs and inexpensive sandals poked out, horizontal and motionless. Deadly motionless.