No one who was called into Mr Weatherbee's office was happy to be there. Miles Carter was no exception.
The principal of Riverdale High was a slim man of average height who had a fondness for smart suits. His mouth was set in a firm line and he always looked distinctly unimpressed with the world around him. Miles couldn't blame him for that; he spent his waking days surrounded by boisterous students. Miles herself wasn't exactly ecstatic either.
Bright and early on a Monday morning, Miles was stopped in her tracks by the principal himself. He looked down his nose at her and said, "Miss Carter, a moment please."
It wasn't a question, but Miles was tired enough to entertain the idea of refusing. "Have I done something wrong?" She asked, trailing behind the man as he walked through a parted sea of students.
Mr. Weatherbee didn't reply. Miles tried her best not to sigh in frustration. The walk to his office was thankfully short, the door shut behind them and the man turned to Miles.
"It has come to my attention that your participation in class discussion is lacking."
If she'd been with any other teacher, Miles would have rolled her eyes. The man waited, apparently this was Miles' moment to defend herself.
"I do my schoolwork," She said, stupidly. "And I don't disrupt the class."
Mr. Weatherbee raised an invisible eyebrow.
"Surely that's enough?" Miles asked weakly. It was difficult to be insolent to a man who embodied the concept of indifference.
"No, Miss Carter, it is not enough." Miles could feel a speech brewing. "It's important for children—" Miles bit her tongue to stop herself from saying she was seventeen, not three, "—to interact with their peers. It builds confidence, it builds friendship, and is greatly important in the workforce. I assume you want to be employed one day, yes?"
How insufferable was this man? Miles thought bitterly.
"Everyone wants to be employed," She said, hotly. "Frankly, I don't think I'm unemployable because I prefer keeping to myself in class. I have no problem talking to others when I need to," she gestured between herself and the man. "Clearly."
If Mr. Weatherbee had been any other man (and Miles wished he was), she would have been scolded harshly for her attitude and given detention. Instead, he nodded sharply.
"Good, good, then you'll agree with my proposal."
What damn proposal?
"I have a student who requires tutoring."
Miles blinked. What in sweet hell was this?
"You, Miss Carter, will become his tutor for the foreseeable future."
"I can't be a tutor," Miles protested. "I'm—"
She was going to say really, really stupid, but the man raised his hand.
"Nonsense, you're a bright student with a multitude of talents."
The thing about arguing with Mr. Weatherbee is that the man had been a steamroller in a past life. He simply did not care for the oppositions opinion, and would merely wait quietly until people conceded to his whims.
If it had been any time other than 8:47 on a Monday morning, Miles would have argued her way into a suspension, but it was early, she was tired, and she'd already skipped three classes last week. She couldn't risk anything else.
"Who am I supposed to tutor, then?" She asked, sighing.
Mr. Weatherbee smiled. It was tight lipped and didn't reach his eyes.
"Reginald Mantle."
Miles spluttered and thought, Oh, absolutely not.
And thus began Miles' decent into madness.