The three of them were quiet in the office. The principal looked at her documents and shook his head.
"I am really sorry, Mrs. . ."
"Miss," she corrected. "I am definitely not married."
"Miss Sky," he said quietly. "There is nothing I can do for you at this time. As you can see, we are in the middle of the semester, the spaces are full, and . . ." He flipped through the documents again. A sigh from him was not heard but felt. "She does not stay in one school long enough. She's been in two schools already this year. This will put too much pressure on our teachers. They cannot slow down their pace because of her."
The girl, Xara, looked at her mother from underneath her eyelashes. She would never dare look her square in the face.
What is to be done now, Mother?
She was itching to ask, but she would never dare. She sighed silently instead.
Miss Sky shifted her weight so that her cleavage was clearly visible. She smiled seductively and quirked her eyebrow. "Mr. Edmund. Surely we can figure something out."
"Are you trying to offer me a bribe, Mrs.—Miss Sky?"
"Call me Evelyn. And my, why would you think that? I was thinking more in terms of what I can do for you. As the saying goes: you scratch my back, I scratch yours."
"I . . ." He cleared his throat, then shifted his weight while adjusting the tie around his neck. "I don't think I am getting you."
Miss Evelyn Sky turned to her daughter, who was timidly playing with her hands next to her. "Xara, dear, do you mind stepping outside while I talk to this gentleman over here?"
Xara obeyed. She stood up and walked slowly out the door. Closing it behind her, she exhaled. She thought her mother's voice was extraordinarily crispy today, like spring water on a hot summer day.
She made sure to stand by the door so she could hear what was happening inside. But her stomach churned. Why did she have to wait, to listen in—what was the point of it? Isn't this the same thing that happened in February and then May? Why was she always so shocked, as though it was happening for the first time, over and over again?
She listened anyway.
She could hear the clicking of heels as her mother moved around the office. She counted them:
one. Two. Three. Stop.
Three seconds later.
One. Two. Three. Stop.
It was like a rhythm only her mother would understand.
"So, Mr. Edmund, where were we?" Silence. Xara wondered what he was thinking now. Was Mr. Edmund easily swayed? "I remember now," her mother continued in that crispy voice again. Click. Clack. "I think I'm ready to scratch your back now, if you let me."
The principal cleared his throat again. The scratching of his chair against the floor made Xara visualize him standing up, going to her mother, and doing on that table what she had seen her mother do this February with yet another principal—through the keyhole.
Her stomach churned again. This time it felt like it flipped upside down, like she would throw up all her fecal waste instead of the last meal she ate.
She gagged and moved away from the door. She exhaled again, but a tear betrayed her.
Oh, Mother.
She looked up at the ceiling, and the tears fell. Her lips moved, but no sound came.
I am so tired.
To her left, the wall with the principal's door was lined with long, narrow, deep blue lockers. She hated blue.
Why did schools favor it so much? It felt so clinical and cold, like a mortuary. And she was sure she hated mortuaries, though she had never been to one.
Worse, if they accepted her—which they probably would, since her mother was being too kind at the office right now—she would have to keep wearing this new blue skirt uniform for the whole year.
If we don't move away again.
The opposite wall had wide-open windows that you pushed at the bottom to open. The windows showed a perfect view of the parking lot, swaying trees, and a huge gate that led into the street.
She wanted to go to the window so badly for some fresh air, but her throat felt like sandpaper while the rest of her was very warm, like the inside of her skin was being scorched from underneath all the layers.
She pressed her eyes shut, her hand snaking around her neck. Heat ricocheted through her hand.
When she put her foot forward, she stopped dead when she heard an echo of someone's shoes thudding nearby. She froze, then dropped her head to the floor. No one needed to see her puffed-up, snort-smeared, salty face.
And she was right—her reflection on the floor thanked her for bowing her head down.
But then,
A shadow passed.
Then its breeze caressed her face and arms with feather touches.
She saw the big black boots as the owner passed by, his reflection on the floor revealing that he was wearing something strictly prohibited at the school.
Strange, she thought as her eyes followed him.
The stranger wasn't wearing a school uniform at all. Was he a student here? She remembered very well when she was in her mother's car that the school's website emphasized the proper school uniform.
Nothing outside of the school attire was to be worn. It was written on the website. Or they would be forced to confiscate the improper item.
So she concluded—not a student then. Otherwise, his hoodie and black denim pants would have been confiscated a while back.
Unless,
He was a rebel.
Her eyes were wide open as that word rang in her head over and over.
Never in her life had she ever been a rebel. She wondered what it must feel like.
Did it feel like freedom?
And wasn't freedom what she starved for?
The stranger boy went to one of the lockers at the far side. He stood for long seconds before he sent his fist to the locker door with denting force. Over and over and over.
Xara gasped and gaped. His whole locker door was full of dents, like he punched it on a regular basis.
Something else was on that door, though she could not see properly because of the distance, but it appeared that his locker had graffiti on it.
How did they let him get away with breaking so many rules?
Rebellion.
Her skin tingled at the word. She now wanted to be a rebel, a maverick. One who defied all the rules.
And she wondered,
As good as he was at punching things and wearing what he wanted,
Could he also be a good teacher?
If he allowed her,
She'd be a perfect student.
Hey guys, this is my first story on here. Please do comment on what you think? did you enjoy this part or was it too boring for you?
thank you ;)