(6) I Could Tell You, But Then I'd Have to Kill You
You want to know how the rest of my day went?
Horrible. Absolutely, positively, horrible.
Apparently, any new students in the Mortimer High School speak directly to the Principal on their first day of school, before they see their guidance councelor and get their schedule. I, of course, already started off on the wrong foot with him, because I was not only late to see him, but I had failed to realize just how much of a stick in the mud he was.
It started with the glasses. You don't wear horn-rimmed glasses unless you are a pedophile, or you like to eat children in your spare time. There's a fine line between the two, I know, but let's not get to graphically into that because I've already disturbed myself thus far.
Then there was his outfit. I know I'm not a fashionista, but you can tell a lot about a person's outfit. Principal Meanie, as I nicknamed him because I might have blocked out his whole introduction speech while watching a mother bird feed its cute little squeakers right out his office window, didn't have even a speck of dust or lint on his ironed on blue suit and tie. OCD, much?
First mistake I made in the presence of my new principal: Jokingly implying he had a disorder that he actually had.
Second mistake I made in the presence of my new principal: Jokingly implying I had heroine in my backpack after he said there is a no drug and alcohol policy.
Wiping a hand down my face, I watched the security guards leave the room, throwing my backpack back at my feet, which had been thoroughly looked through for drugs.
"I swear, I had no idea that you actually had OCD, sir. I deeply apologize. From the bottom of my heart. I also didn't mean to waste anyone's time looking through my bag for heroine."
Deeply apologize from the bottom of your heart? Good one, Pepper. What a classic line you got there. How could one even "deeply apologize"? Was there honestly a depth of an apology deeper than a simple "I'm sorry" or a "Won't happen again"? I mean, unless you're married, I guess. Wives better get an apology deeper than the Earth's core, or you're sleeping on a futon in the living room for the rest of your relationship. All apologies were the same, if you ask me. It just depends on how much of a d-bag the person that you're apologizing too, or how many times they've already forgiven you.
Looking at his nametag on his desk, I said, "I've made a very bad impression of myself already, haven't I, Principal Howard?"
"Yes, yes you have." Straightening his shirt, Principal Howard organized the papers on his desk until everything lined up perfectly. "Miss Ballard, by looking at your previous grades at Elmer High School, I can see that you are academically proficient in many subjects. Because you will be unable to speak to your guidance councilor today, I took the liberty to look up a few things that you might be interested in here at Mortimer. I do believe you are more than qualified to join our honors program and track team, but besides those, there are many other activities Mortimir has to offer," Principal Howard said, leafing through a thick file that read, Pepper Ballard.
"It says here that you were President of your schools Taekwondo club, you are more than welcome to start one of those here. I remember reading a few moments before you came in, that you roundhouse kicked a man in a mask that tried to take over your school bus in fifth grade, and since the next police station was an hour away, you then tied the man to the roof of the bus so that the bus driver could take him straight to the police station. I'm thoroughly impressed by that, I must say."
"Not many people are amused by my round kicks so I appreciate that," I replied politely, thinking back to kicking Sin in the face. Man, those were the good days. I was really starting to loathe that guy, but at the same time, I didn't even want to mess with the guy. By now, he seriously hated my guts. I just had to stay away from him, especially if he was in any of my classes. And especially because I saw that he had a mouthful of fangs moments ago. Not even the Vampire kind, too, more like a Parana....a wolf.
Maybe you're just delusional. Lack of sleep can really mess with the mind.
"My mom and dad had really good studying habits throughout their high school and college careers, so I'm used to getting the ol' report card stuck to the fridge with a car next to it and a big red 'X' covering the car if I get anything below a B in a class." I laughed a little. "Got my license. Just no car. Crossing my fingers for my birthday."
Breaking his serious expression, Principal Howard smiled kindly at me. "I hope you get your car as well, Miss Ballard."
"I actually wanted to ask you something. In my last school, I would have been a Senior this year, but I was told because your credit system is slightly different than my own, that I would have to take Junior year over again. I briefly looked through your credit classes and I'm eligible to take three credit classes, like art or music, so that I can have a Senior schedule--"
"I know what you're going to say, I've handled it," Principal Howard cut in, folding his hands on his desk. "Your guidance councilor was supposed to mention this to you, but she's unfortunately not in school today. We will be putting you into the Senior classes, but you will have to take a few extra credit courses as you said. Your mother and her talked over the phone and created this for you. She mentioned that you both hadn't the time to discuss it...?"
Frowning slightly, I took the paper that he held out to me. "Yeah, my parents have been working a lot recently. I don't speak to them much. I'm sure...I'm sure I'll like the classes or I can change--" To my disbelief, my eyes locked onto my second period class. "Oh. My. God. You have got to be kidding me."
I threw back my chair and stood up to my feet.
Startled, Principal Howard almost fell out of his own chair. "Miss Ballard...is everything alright?"
"Yes, everything is fine. Thank you so much for helping me." As the bell to get the next class rang in the distance, I straightened my white t-shirt and slung my backpack over my shoulder. The back of my shirt had already begun to stick with hot, angry sweat. "I guess I'll get to class now. And by the way, if there's one thing you should know about me, it's that I don't let anyone or anything get in my way. Anything."
"I'm very happy to hear that, Miss Ballard. That was the late bell, so I'll send your teacher an email that you were with me."
"Perfect, thanks. Have a nice day!" I rushed out, already halfway through the room.
I walked briskly out of the student affairs office and down the hallway, looking left and right into every busy classroom. Room 201. AP Creative Writing. Room 201. AP Freaking Creative Writing. I'm going to kill this teacher.
I turned on my heel and started walking the other direction.
"I can't do this," I muttered under my breath. "I should just go home and drop out."
Turning on my heal again, I slapped myself in the face. "Are you insane? And pump gas for these snobby people in Orange Gate County? You're stronger than this."
Hopefully.
"Here we are," I whispered, placing my hand on the cool knob of classroom 201. I couldn't see into the room because there blinds down, but I knew exactly what to expect.
Gripping my backpack with one hell of a white-knuckled hand, I slowly opened the door with my other hand. The first thing I saw in the classroom was an empty swivel chair behind a large mahogany teacher desk, with a black leather jacket draped along the back of it.
"...As I assume many of you already know, Monday's have traditionally been a casual day for teachers at Mortimer," a deep, smooth voice spoke to the class. "Apparently that doesn't include footsy pajamas, so they forced me to change into this. Not as comfortable, but I probably would have had a heat stroke in this weather anyways. And using the teachers bathroom would have been a bitch."
The class burst into laughter.
The teacher, ignoring me entirely, wondered to the front of the classroom and sat on the front edge of his desk, folding his arms along his thick chest. "Pepper Ballard, you're late. I'll assume you either got lost or were with the principal. Have a seat, New Girl," Sin Trinidad said, earning more laughter in the room, and lazily motioning to an empty seat with the pointer, "and welcome to Hell."
Wondering why my morning was so horrible? Just you wait.
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