~*~

Mr. Thorpe and Mr. Atkins were talking with the principal in low voices. They had left the door open just enough for us to hear the solemn tone of their words, but not what they were saying. My stomach knotted up in suspense. I’d had a blameless record at Wakanakee High until today, and now it was probably in shambles, but what choice did I have? Denny was my best friend. I couldn’t just let him get beat up could I?

I summoned the courage to nudge him.

 “You ok?”

He grimaced. “Yeah I guess.” Staring at his shoes, my friend added awkwardly, “Thanks.” Heart swelling with warmth, I nodded, understanding that all was forgiven.  

 “Any time, man.” I thought I saw tears in his eyes, so I figured I’d better turn down the love a little and bring things back to reality. “Hope they’re not calling my mom.”

“No kidding. My parents are going to flip.” He replied.

Rob looked over at us, glaring. He was a big guy, tall and thick, with a tan complexion and blonde hair. He usually wore a mean expression, with the exception of his eyes, which seemed somehow soulful, and deep, their blue purity radiating a sense of sorrow. Even now, behind that snarky scowl, he couldn’t hide it.

I saw the sadness, and it made me think of a poem I’d read on The Whimsical Musings of a Modern Day Poet.

I see blue like the sorrow

Ocean deep and growing

It’s dreaming in your eyes

I see countless days and moments

When you were all alone

And so that blue sorrow grows

In your eyes

I was trying to remember the rest, when I suddenly realized that I was still staring into Rob’s eyes. Denny was psssst-ing in my ear and Rob was looking really creeped out.

 “What the heck, Hunter? Who do you think you’re staring at?” His hissed words were accusing, but somehow they had lost their sting. It was as though, through the memory of those poetic lines, I’d discovered a truth about him, though the poet didn’t even know Rob Corlett existed.

 

~*~

At that moment, Mr. Atkins sauntered out of the principal’s office. He was big man. There’s no better way to say it. He was actually seven feet tall and he looked as if he ate a moose for lunch every day. His voice was so deep that it sometimes seemed to be in pain, as if it were so low that it was beneath all the world and sky and universe, and everything was pressing down on it. That voice longed to break free. I’d only heard it do so once, when some guys put salt in Mrs. Lanningham’s coffee while she wasn’t looking. Mr. Atkins had boomed like thunder until the culprits had repented every bad thing they ever did. His voice had filled the whole school. On this morning, he was wearing a black suit and a candy-striped tie, and wearing his most serious expression. Boy, that man could look grave, which is pretty impressive. Not many people can, wearing a candy-striped tie.

“Boys.” One word in that gravel-road diphthong tone and even Rob was licking his lips nervously. “The Principal will see you now.”

I suddenly realized that I’d never met the principal. As I stood up, I realized too that I couldn’t remember ever even seeing the principal, or hearing the principal’s name, or hearing anything about the principal. Why was that? Did kids who went through those double-paneled, wood-grained doors ever come out again? I slurped in a shaky breath, feeling nervously that my lungs could never again be full enough to satisfy me.