Seven Deadly Pleasures Read Free

don't care about that," Ben said. "Look, I need a favor."
    All three looked skeptical, but they were listening. Ben bent his head in and whispered, therefore making them lean in and make a huddle.
    "See, I know some are going to try to cut because I'm a sub. I don't want you guys to snitch or anything, but I need for you to get all the kids in their chairs for me."
    He looked from one boy to the next.
    "Of you three, who was the last one to get in trouble? And don't lie, cause I'll know it."
    They snickered and pointed to the tall kid. Ben raised his eyebrows.
    "Look," he said. "I'm meeting with Ms. Johnson after school. I run the tenth grade up there and she listens to me. A good word to her and a nice phone call home wouldn't hurt, now would it?"
    The tall one blinked, then glanced to the other two.
    "Well, go on," he said. "You heard the man." He gave both a shove and the three immediately split up to tell their classmates to sit the hell down. Within about a minute, Ben had nineteen middle schoolers in their chairs with their hands folded, and that was the way that he liked it. He got out his prompt sheet and introduced himself. He told the kids that they were going to play a game of write for a minute and listen for a minute as other kids read back their answers. The first prompt was "When is it all right to lie?"
    The writing part went well, and during the answer phase he was pleased to get a fair response. Hands in the air led to discussions and little anecdotal stories. Most kids were OK with his rule of not calling out and only two kids broke the atmosphere to go to the bathroom. There were a couple of instances where he had to goad a light-skinned boy with a bushy afro set in two large puff balls not to lean back in his chair, but altogether it wasn't so bad.
    Half the period was gone when it happened.
    Ben was on the third prompt, "What is your favorite violent movie and why?" and the kids were drifting a bit. Most were writing, but the illusion of order had eroded at the edges. A boy with close-set eyes was struggling with the girl who sat next to him over a red see-through ruler. A girl wearing a too much makeup for her age was texting on a cell phone she thought was well hidden in her lap, and the boy one seat up and across from her was crossing his eyes and making bubbles with his spit. About five kids had suddenly gotten up to sharpen their pencils and Ben was getting aggravated. Suddenly he shouted at the top of his lungs,
    "For God's sake, close that book!"
    He was pointing at a girl in the front row who had slipped her English textbook up to the desk and was looking at pictures of the Titanic. Ben walked a step closer.
    "Shut it now! You've unlocked the door! Now the spirit can get in! Do you want to freakin' die tonight?"
    She clapped the book shut and put her hands up to her mouth. No one was fighting over rulers now, and all the chair legs were on the floor.
    "Sit down," Ben said. "Now." Those waiting at the sharpener scurried to their desks. Ben was in control again. In the back of his mind a warning flare went up. Were these kids too young for this? Too late. A lead-in this good couldn't go to waste.
    "Don't you guys know the story of Bria Patterson, the third-grade girl who died right here in this school?"
    Kids shook their heads. Eyes were wide. Ben's body and voice reflected a controlled patience, the elder who bestowed cautious forgiveness for a catastrophic blunder just this one last time.
    "Don't you know about second-to-last period and how you never, ever open a book that's not the subject being taught? That opens the archway from hell and lets her in through every opening, every heating vent, every window, and every door."
    A boy raised his hand. He had a smirk on his face.
    "Put your hand down," Ben said.
    The hand went down, the kid's expression now flat. No one giggled. Once more, Ben considered what he was about to do. He had told this story up in the high school many times; it was