Joe was head down at his desk, working away with his Barlow while the teacher’s back was turned.
It was amazing to see how the knife knew where to go, tracing the outlines of the face and making it seem to rise up out of the maple board. He glanced up. Mrs. Withers was still scratching away at the blackboard with her chalk.
Joe brushed away the shavings. It looked like his mother, or would if he could just get the eyes right. He bent close to study it.
“Joseph Bily!” Mrs. Withers slapped her ruler hard on the desk.