~*~

Mr.Thorpe stood at the door, beckoning to us. Rob slouched in first, then Denny. I started to follow, but Mr. T held up a hand, and shook his head. “Mmm, just a minute, Nathan. The principal  asked me to have you wait outside until the others are done.”

 “Why?” I cried with unveiled surprise. Denny glanced back at me before Nancy, the receptionist, closed the door between us. Whatever he faced, he would face it with only Rob, and I would face it later, alone. I licked my lips, feeling my nerves stretch like rubber bands under extreme duress. “Why would he want to see me seperately? Like, to provide unbiased perspective or something?” Mr. T laughed softly.

 “I don’t think that’s it. I’ll get you as soon as we finish.” He murmured mysteriously, and then vanished into that dark little room again, and I was left alone to return to my cold prison on the bench. I waited, feeling my stomach tighten with every tick of the clock. I glanced at it, a black, boring accessory that seemed to perch on the wall simply out of habit, rather than for a purpose. Nevertheless, it told me the time: half past. I grimaced, knowing that I’d already missed half of my Algebra 2 class, which meant I would have to grapple with the nonsensical instructions in the textbook if I hoped to understand whatever homework Mrs. Elliot prescribed. I crossed my legs. And uncrossed them. And crossed them the other way. I folded my hands, until they got so sweaty that I had to rub my palms across my knees a few times. Time crawled by. The minute hand seemed to be carrying the weight of a thousand boulders. A herd of snails could beat that minute hand any day. I couldn’t hear the low rumble of voices anymore. I wondered if maybe the door had grown thicker.

 At last the door opened and Denny and Rob shuffled sheepishly out. Denny didn’t look at me, which I took for a bad sign. I felt a twinge of righteous anger sparkle in my stomach. Was I about to get some horrible punishment simply for being loyal? It wasn’t fair. But then, life’s not fair, as every parent in the world has told their kid at some point.

 “Ok, Nathan. Come on in.” Mr. Thorpe motioned me towards the door. I stood nervously, wishing those sweat ducts on my hands would cool it and stop all that gushing. I sidled in, and found myself face to face with the principal of Wakanakee High.

 “Mom?”