by Tyler Brigham
Andy sat, pale as a ghost, his face dry as chalk. His hands were sweaty and his lip quivered.
"Andrew?" Miss Kliemein's voice cut through the air, sharpened by years of bitterness.
Andrew jolted as if wakened from a dream.
"Andrew?" He looked up. He was surrounded. Thirty some-odd kids, their eyes gleaming, and faces taunting. They smelled blood and were determined to make Andy their meal.
"Come on 'Handy-Andy'! It's your turn!" Andy looked to Miss Kliemein for help, but found none.
Andy stood slowly, unsure of his ability to stand. His legs shook, yet they felt solid and immovable. Each step resounded in his mind. Each step grew in power, until it shook the room. Each step brought him closer to his fate. Heads turned. Their eyes followed him. They dug into him and