classroom door marked Spencer.
He arrived at the last door at the end of the hallway.
He entered the room, but the teacher was not present. The lights were turned off,
leaving only the natural light coming from the windows.
The walls were covered by artwork of various degrees of talent. The first drawing
he saw was little more than stick figures. He was surprised it was wall-worthy.
The classroom didn't have desks like the others. There were four big tables, like
the ones wrestlers threw each other through on TV. William supposed that was so the
students had room to work on their projects.
He walked along the wall hoping to see at least one of his daughter's pieces of art
but couldn’t find it. Four drawings didn't have the students’ names in the bottom
right corner. Maybe his daughter hadn't been doing any work, William thought.
At the back wall, he saw a painting that looked too good for a seventh grader,
though he didn’t know much about art. William stared at the man in the painting. It
looked eerily like him. The man wore a lab coat and was
flipping a pancake. The whole thing felt surreal. William did love making pancakes
on weekends.
He thought Sasha might have painted it but the name Harlow was in the bottom right
corner. He tried to remember if any of his daughter’s friends had the last name
Harlow.
He moved on to look at more of the artwork on the back wall. They were mostly bad.
The scientist making pancakes was the best one.
There was a drawing of a robot who had ripped a cat in half. It wasn't gory, each
hand of the robot holding one end of the cat, already ripped apart. There was a
small pool of blood at the robot's feet. It wasn't signed. He hoped Sasha hadn’t