The room was empty, aside from him. Luther sat in his seat, like a good student, pencil tapping.

The rest of the desks had been evacuated all at once; just as soon as the hall monitor had come in and told them of the 'incident'.

Luther didn't see a reason to get up and rush over. They'd said James had been found dead after all. It wasn't as if he could get any deader.

And really, the teacher had told everyone to stay put. Luther was the only one who had done so. That meant everyone else was breaking the rules when they fled out of the classroom, charging towards the boys' bathroom.

For the life of him, he couldn't figure out what they had gotten all excited about. Everyone had hated James. He bullied the boys and made the girls cry. He taunted the teachers and even his mom enrolled him in all of the after-school programs because she didn't want to deal with him.

Maybe it was a good thing he was gone, Luther determined, nodding. He twirled the pencil in his hands, fingers wrapped tightly around it because it was slippery.

With sweat, he told himself. Slippery with sweat, because he was just so worried about poor little James and his well-to-do family. How ever would they cope?

And what would they suppose had happened to their son? Maybe the janitor would be blamed. Or one of the teacher aides from the high school.

Either way, they wouldn't be able to pin it on him. There wasn't enough evidence.

Although, he decided, it might be a good idea to wipe the blood off his pencil before everyone came back.