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and a very large pile of patient write-ups.
    Mister Royal was quite tall, with curly red hair, freckles, and reddish cheeks. His broad shoulders made him look as though he could have been a security guard rather than a teacher. He faced the young girl whose back was against the concrete wall.
    Royal closed his round, green eyes to slits, his eyebrows drawing together to form one angry red slash across his forehead. “Do you really think I’m going to tolerate that kind of behavior in my class?” he screamed in her face. “You do not get out of your seat without permission under any circumstances, Clara!”
    Rick recognized the girl’s name from the caseload in the top drawer of his desk. The name Clara Blue stood out due to her being listed at fifteen years old, the oldest by almost two years in the sixth and seventh grade class. Her name was written on many of the write-ups from Mister Royal.
    Now that Rick saw Clara for the first time, he couldn’t tell she was fifteen. She seemed younger, both in appearance and posture.
    “He threw his pencil at me!” She swiped her button-nose with her right thumb.
    “You do not get out of your seat without permission!” Royal yelled even louder, leaning into her personal space a bit further. “You certainly do not just get up and leave my classroom, even if the door is unlocked! Do you understand me?”
    Clara’s left hand pressed hard against the wall, her body trembling and her eyes filling with rage. She breathed heavily, trying to bring herself under control. “Yes,” she said in a voice barely above a whisper.
    Receiving his answer, Royal took a step back. Clara escaped into the classroom. He looked at Rick and nodded before stepping in behind her.
    A possible situation averted, Rick blew out a sigh of relief and walked into the office. Once inside, he was greeted by one of the secretaries, an older lady in her 60s, with a long weave and glasses. She seemed very involved in her work. “Miss Miller is on the phone, but she will be right with you.” Her head never turned from the computer screen.
    “Okay. I’ll just wait.”
    “That’s a good idea,” she said with obvious sarcasm.

Chapter Four
    Derrick buttoned his flannel shirt to the top in front of the full-length mirror in the vestibule. It wasn’t a perfect match for his checkered pants, but at least it was stain-free. Derrick rarely had guests at his newly-acquired residence in Long Island suburbia, but this was a special occasion. With more time, he would have given the place a good cleaning, or at least straightened up. Then again, probably not. Such menial chores were reserved for people with smaller priorities.
    A loud gong filled the two-story home. Derrick took another peek in the mirror and ran three fingers through his receding black hair like a comb. His albino reflection smiled back with excitement. Time to greet his first houseguest.
    Derrick pulled the front door ajar. A wide-eyed man in his young twenties with a Hispanic complexion stared at the black mailbox above the doorbell. He had to be sweating bullets under that black leather jacket and denim jeans considering it was 82 degrees. “You Bomser?” the man asked.
    “You must be Juan. Come quickly.” Derrick pulled the door open a bit more and stepped back so his guest could enter, glancing over Juan’s shoulder as he did so.
    Juan held back from going too far inside. “I’m just supposed to drop your stuff off and collect the money.” He began to reach into his inner jacket pocket, but Derrick snatched at his hand and dragged him through the doorway. He shot a smile and a wave to his neighbors on the curb, who still watched with unveiled curiosity. Juan’s presence must have spooked them; he wasn’t the typical type who walked through this neighborhood. Then again, Derrick wasn’t typical, either. His presence singlehandedly brought the average age down by about thirty years.
    He leaned forward, bracing one hand on the doorframe,