I hated biology class. I despised biology. It didn’t help that I got the worst teacher in the world, Mr. Poindexter. He wasn’t mean, and he didn’t assign outrageous amounts of homework; he was just too mysterious.

He wore thick glasses and had wild black hair; it didn’t look like he brushed it very often. He had perfect teeth, but his laugh grated on your nerves. It was akin to screeching your nails across a chalkboard. He was skinny as a beanpole, but only average height. It all added up to a person you’d never forget. But the thing that really bothered me was the fact that he seemed to get pleasure out of cutting up little, defenseless animals.

I don’t mean not minding the act; I mean he liked it. You could see it in the look in his eyes. He almost frightened me.

Today was no different. Mr. Poindexter was lecturing the class on genes, but it was all basically review. I started daydreaming and stared at the wall.

My eyes drifted to a door directly in front of me. I had no idea what was behind that door, and I was a curious person. The only reason I wondered about this door was because every now and then I would see the blinds move, and every now and then I would hear noises coming from inside. The fact that there were blinds covering the window also made me curious. What did he have in there that was so secret? I didn’t know any other teacher with blinds over his storage room window. I decided in that dreamy moment that I was going to ask him.

The bell rang. Mr. Poindexter sat at his desk, watching the kids leave, except for me. I walked up to his desk.

“Mr. Poindexter, can I ask you a question?”

“Why, of course you can,” he answered.

Suddenly his eyes started glowing red, his face twisted and contorted, and his voice became a low rumbling, coming from everywhere at once. “You can ask me anything, Billy.”

I closed my eyes and shook the image away. Sometimes my imagination got carried away. I opened my eyes again and his face was back to normal.

“What’s behind that door?” I asked, pointing at it. “I thought I heard someone in there.”

Mr. Poindexter’s smile faltered a little. “Aren’t you a curious one?” he said sarcastically. “It’s just my storage room, and I’ve got to go make copies in the library. I’ll see you tomorrow.” With that, he walked out of the room, leaving me alone. On my way out I tried the door and it was locked, but there was no keyhole.

The next day, I came to school expecting the same old routine, but something was different when I went into Mr. Poindexter’s room.

I couldn’t tell what it was at first, but I recognized it soon enough. The blinds were open on the supply room door. The reason I didn’t notice it right away was because I still couldn’t see inside; it was pitch black. Right after Mr. Poindexter started class, lights turned on inside the room, but I still couldn’t see anything, not even from my seat which was closest to the door.

I paid absolutely no attention to Mr. Poindexter. I stared at the door, waiting for something to happen.

Suddenly, a man’s face appeared, and he was grinning like the Grinch. He waved at me, and I was terrified. I looked around, but no one else seemed to see. They were entranced by the discussions of sex cells and reproduction. It was sickening.

I looked at the window again and he was gone. I wouldn’t turn away any more. I have to see that face.

A gasp escaped me as a kid was suddenly thrown against the window. The kid’s face pressed against it, his glazed eyes seemingly fixed on me. His face was cut up, and he was bleeding everywhere. As his face slowly slid down the window, blood smeared and streaked the glass.

I closed my eyes. It was just my imagination. I opened them. It wasn’t my imagination.

His face was still sliding down, down, down, ‘til it was just his hair. Then that was gone too. The man with the Grinch-like grin popped up again, smiling and waving, but this time his hands were covered in blood. I had to get out of here.

Just as I was about to stand up and leave, not caring if I was sent to the principal or not, Mr. Poindexter spoke to me.

“Billy, I want to see you after class.”

“I’ve got somewhere I need to go…” I started to say.

“After class, Billy.” Then he winked at me. It could have been a trick of the light, but I swear it was a wink. He smiled that perfect, toothy smile and I thought I was going to be sick.

I looked back at the door, still saw blood, but the man was gone and the lights were out. I still stared at the window, dreading the ringing of the bell. I didn’t understand how the class could be so entranced by such boring talk, especially when it came from a skinny man with thick glasses and perfect teeth.

The bell rang.

I packed my books quickly, feeling myself start to sweat. When I tried to sneak out of the room, he caught me.

“Hey, Billy, come here a minute,” he said all chum-like. I walked reluctantly to his desk. “Drop your books and stay a while.”

“I only have a minute…”

Mr. Poindexter reached across the desk and grabbed my arm. He pulled me over the desk violently and put his hand over my mouth.

“You’re too imaginative, too creative…and definitely too curious. You must be disposed.”

He dragged me across the floor to the mysterious locked door, but when he turned the knob, it opened easily.

“Martin Poindexter, you have a call on line one. Martin Poindexter, call on line one,” the school intercom blared.

“Guess that’s my cue to leave,” he said. “I’m sure you’ll have fun.” He threw me in the room and shut the door. I tried the knob but it was locked. The blinds went down and the light faded away. It was then that I heard the Grinch laughing in the darkness.

01/1998