He sits in adolescent arrogance
arms hooked over chair,
legs spread wide.

He has been difficult in my classes.
He has been late without explanation.
He has handed in plagiarized work.

We chat.

I tease him about his attitude,
charm can sometimes disarm I've heard said.
'Give me a chance,' I gurgle
curving my mouth to approximate friendship.
He replies with slippery eyed cunning
mouth frog-wide, smirking.

He is bored in my classes.
He was taught better last year.
He received nothing but 'A's.

He hates English now.

He folds his arms, slips lower in the chair,
thrusts his crutch forward to pyramid shorts.
'I've heard all about you,' he drawls, 'from a friend.'
He mouths a girl's name,
it emerges like spat gum.

I want to scream.
I want to vomit.
I want to dash that contemptible smile form his face.

I do none of these things.

I walk away, secretly impaled.