Melissa King Rogers

We were drawn to them the way kids crave adults who are not their parents, camp coaches we could carve out crushes on and not feel creepy. He was a grizzly, big hands, a mean spiral. He called the plays in pick-up football after Prayer Circle where they’d one-up each other for the roughest sack […]

At nineteen my former student jacks a car with a toy gun. Give me the keys! he says, but he carries her groceries in, unlocks her door—can’t leave her alone in the cold, she looks so scared. Not even an hour later he’s in handcuffs. He’ll get fifteen. Ten if they go easy, a soft judge. […]