Patrick Hockstetter ²

He was a proud member of Bowers' gang, and he was crazy. He stank of dead animals and cheap cologne. His wide grin was terrifying, and his long, bony fingers always had some grime or dirt around the nails. Gross. So as you sat in class that day, praying your teacher wouldn't pair you with him for a project that was worth 40 percent of your grade, you could feel his disgusting glare burning into the back of your neck. And finally, Charlotte and Patrick. I expect the whole class to work on this project and take it seriously,* your teacher said as the final bell rang. Everyone began filing out of class and flooding the halls like a broken river dam. As you pushed through the crowd, you heard footsteps behind you, and a hand suddenly landed on your shoulder. You flinched at the dirty fingernails.* When do you want to work on the project?* he asked, his warm, minty breath filling your nose.*

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