Nicholas

He could feel the warmth trickling down his leg, dripping slowly through his blue corduroy pants and onto bolts that locked his last row desk to the floor. All he'd wanted was to go to the boys room, but Mother Mary had beaten Ronnie with a yardstick that cracked in two. Little Chuckie got his hands slapped with her copper-rimmed ruler because he couldn't read the word Albuquerque. Going to the boys room didn't seem that important. No one seemed to notice anyway.