“Don’t read over my shoulder!” I try to tell the teacher telepathically. It doesn’t work. It never works. I still will him away, but the bastard comes back to peek his nose into my notebook. I look up to intimidate him, but he’s sensed that already and looked away. I continue to write my poems, my pieces. But like a beaten dog he comes back. A beaten dog… hmmm. I jam my elbow back into his stomach. He collapses with a grunt. He crawls away with claw like hands, and I with a satisfied smile. I take a cleansing breath and continue. “I don’t think he’ll be bothering me anymore.”