Maybe it was the fact that she had no one her age that she could hang out with and the only way she could have companionship, if in a distorted way, w...s that she sought out the others for her unending torment. Martha was a freshmen. Her main target was seventh grader Billy Wyant. She rode the same bus and her family's home was down the same dead end road. Billy dreaded those walks to the start of the road to catch the bus because he had to walk pass Martha's house.This day was like so many. I curled my fingers into my slightly clammy palm and, with more than a touch of trepidation, knocked on the door. After a few moments of silence I heard Veronica’s voice from within, bidding me to come in. As I entered and closed the door behind me, I could see Veronica sat behind an expansive, imposing desk, her jacket hung neatly over the plush, broad shoulders of the high-backed leather chair on which she was sat. She was hunched industriously over a scattered sea of papers and several. More

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