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"It's not right!" Billy Jenkins slammed his little fist down on his desk, "we just had a test on presidents! I didn't remember anything! Why didn't you tell us, Mrs. Wilshire?"
"Now, Billy I -"
"Shut your lying mouth," Evan snapped, and to her own surprise, Mrs. Wilshire complied.
"How about when we were studying World War Two? Mrs. Wilshire had us memorize who signed the Treaty of Vis. What she neglected to tell us was that the Nazis invented a giant cannon that shot tornados at enemy planes...and it worked."
"You b***h!" Timothy Price screeched, "I fell asleep during history! I fell asleep when I could have been learning about vortex cannons!?"
"Children, that is quite enough," Mrs. Wilshire put her hands on her knees as if to rise, but Billy Jenkins was up before her, crossing the room in a series of great bounds. He slammed into her chest and she sat down, hard.
"He's not finished," Billy whispered savagely, tears streaking down his face and across his Naruto T-shirt.
"Thank you, Billy. We had coloring time on the first Wednesday of this month, just like every Wednesday. But that day was different. What happened?"
"My mommy," a timid little girl shifted in her seat and spoke up, "she took too much medicine and went to heaven."
"That's right," Evan continued, his voice a cold, dead fury. "Suzy's mom killed herself. You drew a portrait for her, didn't you, Suzy?"
The girl nodded, tears in her eyes.
"What color was her dress?" Evan's knuckles had gone white, gripping the podium.
"I didn't know what to color it. Mrs. Wilshire said there were plenty of green crayons, so I used one."
"Did you know blue has been proven to prevent suicides, Suzy? Maybe if Mrs. Wilshire had given you the blue crayon, your mom would still be with us. So why did you do it, Mrs. Wilshire? Why did you kill Suzy's mother?"
"Evan, please!" She cried, but more children were surrounding her now; she had not even seen them stand, but there they were.
"Kelly Henderson!" Evan cried out, his voice thick with rage and grief and madness, "you never want to go to Sunday school! I'm telling you now, Kelly Henderson: In one version of the bible, Jesus almost had control of an army of dragons!"
"No!" Kelly shouted, "I love dragons! Why? WHY DIDN'T THEY TELL ME?!"
"You wouldn't have found it boring?" Evan asked wryly.
"No!" Kelly responded.
"You wouldn't have hid behind the Circle K for two hours to avoid Sunday School if they told you about the dragons?"
"No!" Kelly screamed again.
"In this version of the bible, Kelly Henderson, Jesus Christ could also kill with a word. He used that power to explode a giant snake."
Kelly ripped the hinged top from her desk, and with a howl of desperate fury, winged it discus-style towards Mrs. Wilshire. It missed, just barely, and shattered against the far wall.
"Sam McGinnis! You like animals!" Evan called out, his voice rising dramatically like an evangelist.
"Don't," Sam pleaded, "I can't - I don't-"
"She spent an afternoon teaching us about the dodo bird, and why it went extinct. You liked that, didn't you?"
"It was okay, I guess," Sam was a skinny, sickly child, and he had problems making eye contact.
"The Maori had a story about a giant, man-eating bird that would attack their villages. Everybody thought it was a fairy tale - like dragons," Evan glanced over to Kelly, who dropped to her knees and punched the floor in impotent anger, "but it wasn't. It was called Haast's eagle. It was an eagle big enough to carry a full grown man away, and