It didn't matter. Nothing mattered. This was all temporary, the school, sitting in the office waiting. Seeing the secretary come in and ask if everything was okay, and hearing Raditch's terse reply that things were fine. None of that mattered because his father was on his way to get him.

It was like one of those sets for a play, just made of paper and cardboard. This wasn't real. His father's faint voice on the phone was real, the image of his father getting in his car and driving to the school, that was real. Craig sucked in his breathe, dimly aware that Raditch was talking to him but he could barely hear him. He was distant. His words didn't matter.

He licked his lips, bounced his legs up and down. There was nothing he could do about this nervous feeling. He wished he'd taken off with Jay when he suggested it. But no. He'd tried to stay out of trouble and ended up worse off than before.

Out the window in Raditch's office he saw his father's car pull up. Shiny new car gliding into a parking spot. He watched his father park the car, open the door, step out. He wore his work suit, tailored and perfect. His glasses were dark, they tinted in the sun. He adjusted his tie. Craig swallowed hard, watching him. Watching the sun gleam off the fine silk of the tie, off his dark glasses, off of the high gloss of the car.

Craig turned away from the window, tried to steal himself for it, for all the trouble that was awaiting him. Shit, how did this happen?

"Dr. Manning," Raditch said, and he was by the secretary's desk. Craig still sat in his office, his breathing fast and shallow and he felt dizzy, felt like if he stood he'd just fall.

"Mr. Raditch," his father said, that smooth professional tone with the steel inside of it. No one argued with his father. He ran his department at the hospital and he ran things at home and if Raditch thought he was calling the shots, well, he was mistaken. Craig knew he was mistaken.

"Come into my office," Raditch said, and he could hear them walking, heard their footsteps on the floor. His eyes were closed. He was trying to breath normally so he wouldn't pass out.

"Craig," his father said to him, and he opened his eyes. There was the promise of trouble in the way he said his name, a 'we'll deal with this later' quality. Raditch laid it out for him, his three day suspension, how he was late to class and talked back to Kwan and kicked the chair and threw the paper weight. Then he mentioned him staying back in 10th grade. His father shot him a look, and for a second Craig could not breath.

"Held back? Surely there is the option of summer school?" his father said in that reasonable, don't you dare argue with me tone that even Raditch responded to.

"Perhaps," Raditch said, non- commitment-ly, a verbal shrug. Summer school. Even if it wasn't an option his dad could make it one, and maybe he wouldn't have to repeat the grade. Dim hope. Then he remembered how he fucking hated school. He hated his classes and hated Jimmy Brooks and all the kids like him, hated that Ashley would barely even look at him and when she did it was only with pity. What good would summer school do at this point?

"Can he get his books before we leave?" His father said, and Craig hung his head. His fucking books? What was he going to do, study with him?

Raditch thought about it, considering things. Craig watched him, hoping he'd say no. He didn't want his books, he didn't want to have to read the chapters he was supposed to have read months ago, he didn't want to answer the questions his father would devise. Why couldn't he just leave him alone?

"I'll go with him," Raditch said, and Craig saw that that was what he was considering. He didn't even trust him to go to his stupid locker alone.

"I'll wait here," his father said, folding his arms, looking impatient. So he got up and went with Raditch to his locker, not saying anything. But Raditch did.

"Craig, you are on the wrong path. You need to start making the right decisions. You need to start considering your future. You need to take a good look at your behavior, at who you hang out with, at responsibilities you choose to ignore,"

"Yeah," Craig said, tired of people telling him what a fuck up he was. Didn't they understand that he knew? But he couldn't change. He was incapable of it.

He twisted the lock, landing on the numbers of the combination and opened the locker, took all the books. They were heavy. The weight of the world.