"Alright, Mr. Mead?" I asked, coyness seeping in to my otherwise placid question, which seemed to be more like a statement. I didn't care for him or his ridiculous science lessons. He knew this. Often we'd find ourselves here in his office; I took it in my stride. It was another day, and another thing to tick off my list of 'stuff that annoys the Deputy'. I sauntered in, a wide grin on my face that was matched by his deadpan sullen face, marked with a tinge of frustration and tiredness.
I sat myself down in his comfortable armchair, situated in front of the large oak desk dominating the office. He sat opposite me, leaning across the desk; I slouched in my chair, my shoulders resting just down from the brim of the armchair. He seemed to think that the desk was a form of barricading us. I tapped my feet on the bottom of the wooden furniture idly in my boredom. He took a deep, steadying breath. He was getting impatient with me. "So," I began airily, observing the pictures and diplomas and awards all decorating the walls, cascading across the musty and peeling wallpaper like a waterfall. This bored me, but I knew that my lack of attentiveness irked him. "What's up?"
"Your behaviour is getting near intolerable," he informed me with a heavy sigh. He paused, using this moment to look at me and observe my reaction. I continued to ignore him. I could almost hear the way that his clenched teeth gritted together and ran across each other, screeching in exasperation. I didn't give him a flicker of notice, interested instead in the shaping of my hair that I'd expertly gelled that morning. "Finn." This time, his tone was sharp; the kind of tone that made people sit up and pay attention. The kind of tone that made people realise that they'd crossed a line and enough was enough now. Hiding a flicker of a self-satisfied grin, I turned my attention back to the man sat before me. He wasn't particularly the tallest person, and had an almost lanky stature to him that was similar in ways to my own. He had folds lining his forehead, produced from years of keeping disruptive students in line. His hair was naturally a deep brown shade, but had begun turning grey – something, I'd like to add, that I proudly had a part in. His light blue eyes were deeper in colour now, more serious.
Our eyes fixed. I challenged his gaze for a brief moment; he always broke long before I did, before breaking out into a small grin. I let my shoulders fall, and relaxed. "Well, come on, Sir," I began, a sarcastic tone to my voice. "We haven't got all day; some of us have lessons to get to, y'know?" A curve brought the edges of my eyes upwards, whilst my mouth stilled and thinned. I folded my arms and crossed my left leg over the top of my right, resting it there. I waited for his response. He sighed once more, his gaze falling to his hands that, I'd only just noticed, were twined together rather abstractly in his lap. He leaned back in his chair too. "Finn, your behaviour is simply unacceptable, and goes against everything we stand for here."
"Tell me something I don't know."
"You do know that you've broken near enough every rule that this institution has put in place, right?"
"Yeah," I admitted sheepishly, adverting his gaze. I think I knew where this was going – the same way it always went.
"Well, I'm afraid that we can no longer accept you here as a student of Winston." There it was. The same thing I heard everywhere I went. It was just a politer, stuffier way of saying 'We don't want you'. I proceed to get up from the chair, and I see him poised to make a remark about something, but instead I interrupt and cut him off.
"Best be off then, hey, Mr. Mead?" I grin widely, a chirpy sarcasm evident in my voice. "I wouldn't want to get in your way now, would I, as I'm no longer a student here – isn't that right, Mr. Mead?" It wasn't actually a question I needed to be answered. I'd heard the response thousands of times before now. I made my way towards the door, and as my hand turned the shiny brass knob of the heavy wooden door, I turned back to him sitting in his chair as he picked up the phone in readiness to contact my parents and get them to pick me up. "I'll just get my stuff now," I told him, and he nodded silently. I could hear the phone ringing. For a moment, my face fell. He was too busy focusing on the shrill of the ringing to notice. I took in a quick breath, and recomposed myself. "Hasta Luego, mi Amgio." I called back to the office as I stepped out into the corridor outside, and made my way down the panelled strip of carpeted hall towards my room, dragging my feet as I went. A heavy unwillingness to return to my house and to my parents was weighing on my shoulders as I went.