Chapter 8
The cartoon reference I make in here is of a Calvin and Hobbes cartoon. Couldn't resist.
Gwyneth
After I'd collected my things, left the gym and my haze of anger began wearing off, the fear began setting in. What in the name of all things holy (which of course boils down to all things Batman) had I just done? I'd told off Coach Boomer—and gotten sent to Principal Powers. Principal Powers. I was going to the principal's office.
Holy mother of God…my mom was going to kill me.
Okay, maybe she wouldn't actually kill. But I could probably count on being chained to my bed for the rest of my natural life span, with just the slightest possibility of her lengthening the chain so it went to the living room…after about two hundred years.
I wasn't a goody-two-shoes…okay, not a complete goody-two-shoes (hey, it's not my fault my interests happen to extend to such violent things as musicals and lengthy, lengthy books) but I'd never been to the Principal's office. The biggest trouble I'd ever gotten in while at school was probably the time I called Jared Gibson a stupid mean poophead because he said Santa wasn't real. (Yes, that actually happened. Plus, he was my third-grade arch-nemesis, okay? I was only eight. Extenuating circumstances, people.)
But this…this was serious. I never got in trouble, real trouble at school. I didn't even have the nerve to put up a game face in front of a crowd of kids. Yet just a minute ago I'd totally forgotten myself and every ounce of self-control, unable to do anything but let Coach Boomer know what I thought. How had I even…? What the heck had just happened?
Emily, a crazy but awesome girl, and already a good friend of mine, had almost died because of another student—because of Warren freaking Peace. And the teacher who should have stopped the practice fight before it went too far hadn't done a thing. That's what happened.
I was right, a silent voice murmured. Even if it was disrespectful, I was right. He shouldn't have done that. Emily could have gotten killed. She WOULD have if I hadn't stepped in, and Coach Boomer yelled at me for it?! Bull. That's a load of horse crap. Aren't we supposed to be training to protect and serve, not maim and murder? I did what I should have done. I just wanted to protect my friend. If she'd been disabled, or a powerless citizen, I'd get praised for doing what I did.
Apparently, nobody told Coach Boomer that. There was just the slightest possible chance that Principal Powers might take my side. After all, she was the freaking Principal. She was supposed to protect the kids at her school, wasn't she? She wouldn't like it if anyone got hurt. But would she take my side over a teacher's if the issue came up…like right now?
The hall seemed unusually long and empty to a scared and anxious freshman who was in trouble and knew it. I once saw a cartoon where a little girl walks down a vast corridor towards a claustrophobically small door, looking like the loneliest person in the world. I think they make the hallways to the Principal's office this big on purpose, she'd said.
Yeah, that fit just about right.
Coach Boomer should have made sure I knew how to get to the principal's office, cause by the time I found it, the bell rang and I could hear kids moving down the distant halls. Great. As if getting sent to the principal wasn't bad enough, now I was going to be late for my next class. I walked to the door which said SCHOOL OFFICE and knocked very quietly.
"Come in," said a female voice. I gulped. Even though I wanted to bolt, I reached for the knob and slowly opened the door. When I took my hand away, I realized the knob was covered in a light dusting of frozen condensation. Apparently I'd just lent a whole new meaning to cold sweat.
I swallowed hard and stepped into the room.
The head bowed over a desk seemed unfamiliar until she lifted it and I gulped again as I recognized Principal Powers. She wore a dark suit this time, and horn-rimmed glasses.
"Sit down, Gwyneth," she said in a voice that sounded very calm and not mean, but yet still had just the edge to it that made me automatically sink down into one of the chairs and slide my backpack off my shoulders. I tried to lower it gently to the ground but the thump with which it hit still seemed ominously loud. "Coach Boomer told me you were coming."
My stomach flip-flops, but at the same time, I feel a bit relieved that I won't have to explain everything. But then I think—what exactly did Boomer tell her?
The only smart thing I can think of to say is, "Um-how?"
"The teachers all have walkie-talkies." Principal Powers takes off her glasses and fixes me with a probing stare. "He tells me you jumped into a demonstration fight when you weren't supposed to, and then you talked back to him."
My stomach clenches, but at the same time resentment and anger flares up. Well, I did. So what? If I hadn't, someone could have gotten hurt or killed. The coach went too far. That's why I did it.
"I would be interested to hear your side of the story."
I stare for a moment. I almost can't believe this. "You…would?"
"Yes. At this school, we do not condone disrespecting the teachers, but I'm rather curious as to why you felt you had to interrupt a practice fight. People don't do that for no reason."
My mouth actually falls open but I close it. I was actually prepared to be lectured, not to be listened to. I didn't imagine that the principal would want to hear my side of things.
I recovered and swallowed. I don't want to sound like I'm being a whiny brat, or go off on a rant about reckless teachers, but it's hard.
Count ten. One. Two. Three. Four.
I feel my breathing slowing down, my thoughts becoming clearer.
Five. Six. Seven. Eight.
I try to sort out how to begin.
Nine. Ten.
"Coach Boomer was right." My voice sounds small and rather feeble. "I did jump in the fight. But he didn't tell you why."
"I'm aware of that." Principal Powers gives the faintest smile and a slightly pointed look. "I was hoping perhaps you could tell me that."
I swallow hard. "Um-,"
"It's all right." Principal Powers folds her arms on the table. "I am here to listen. Just continue."
I clench my hands around my knees and breathe deep, calm beginning to take over. "My-my friend Emily-Emily Braun, she's really awesome-she got picked to be one of the people in a practice fight. Warren Peace-not sure if you know who that is-,"
"I am quite aware of who Mr. Peace is." Principal Powers said dryly. "Please go on."
I nod, relaxing further. "He got picked to be the other-her partner. They were supposed to fight for-I think, ten minutes." I nod again, Principal Powers' intent face giving me the courage to keep going.
"Warren started—throwing fire at her. He was supposed to do that, to be fair. But Emily—she's a technopath, so she could-build something or shock him. But she didn't." I hesitated. This would be a bit harder to describe. "She—I think she was scared of Warren. Emily doesn't usually get like that. She doesn't back down, she doesn't take crap-,"
I clap a hand over my mouth. Good Lord, I just said crap in front of the principal!
Principal Powers smiled dryly. "It's all right, Miss Patrick. I've heard quite a few four-letter words worse than that in my time as a high-school principal," she said dryly. "I think I can handle that one."
My face got hot and itchy and I tried not to squirm. "Um-okay. Like I said, she doesn't take—anything, from anybody. But when Warren started throwing fireballs at her, she freaked out."
I hesitated. "Although, I don't know for sure if it was him she was scared of."
"Why not?"
My face flushes. Now I can't believe I'm repeating this, but I walked right into it. Despite how much it embarrasses me to remember, I mumble, "She said he was hot on the first day of school."
Principal Powers' mouth twitched. She coughed elegantly—though it sounded more like a smothered laugh than anything. But that didn't make sense, surely.
"I see. Please continue."
I nodded, still blushing furiously, and continue. "But then when he started throwing stuff-fire-at her, she totally freaked out. It was like she'd forgotten how to fight, and she didn't even try to use her powers-okay, she did, like one or two times, but she didn't hit him-Warren. And then she ran behind the bleachers-he was chasing her, so she ran, and ducked behind the bleachers, and he threw a fireball at the bleachers, and they collapsed."
I took a breath for the first time in what felt like minutes. I hadn't even known what to say, but the events of the last class were all spilling out of me in a vast rush.
Principal Powers' eyes widened. "On your friend?"
"Yes." I take a deep breath. I can still see the collapsing rubble, the cloud of choking dust which went up, the horrible sound that made my heart jump into my throat.
The principal's lips tightened into a grim line. "I see. What happened next?"
Oh, crap. I had a feeling something was about to snap, but I spoke nervously. "I…my friends and I ran over to see if Emily was okay. And she was—sort of. She climbed out of the hole in the bleachers, but she was hurt. I think something fell on her arm—she was holding it. But then Coach Boomer-," I breathe deeply so I won't start getting too angry again.
"He-he said the time wasn't up yet, we still had fifteen seconds." I remember something. "Warren actually asked him-I think if he was crazy or something. But he-Coach Boomer, I mean, just told us to get out of the way. 'Noncombatants out of the fight.'" I accidentally mimick him in a bitter tone, then I glance nervously back up at Principal Powers' face, which is inscrutable.
"Sorry. Anyway. Um, I didn't want to, but then he yelled something and it actually knocked us all off our feet. Warren started to aim a gigantic fireball right at Emily-," I have to pause to clench my shaking hands. "I couldn't let him throw it at her."
"Pardon me," Principal Powers interrupted. "But wouldn't she be able to at least run? Was she running?"
"No." I could hardly believe it, looking back, but Emily had just stood there, eyes wide, frozen in mind-numbing terror, cowering, staring at Warren, but not doing a thing to fight back, not even to run when she could have easily tried to escape.
"No, she didn't. I don't think she could. She just looked up at Warren and froze. It was like she couldn't move. I think she was…too scared to even try to run."
There is silence for so long, I'm afraid to look up at the principal.
"I see," she said at last. "Go on."
I swallow uncomfortably. I'm doing the right thing and telling the truth, but I still sense I'm making some kind of mistake.
"I—I didn't really think about what I was doing. I just knew I had to keep her from getting hurt, so I—sort of jumped in between Emily and Warren." I swallow. "I…hit his fireball with my-I'm a cryokinetic, and I can sort of shoot out this icy spray from my hands that turns things to ice-or in this case, extinguishes fire. And I hit his fireball with that and it put it out."
I get the feeling Principal Powers is about to say something. To forestall it I quickly keep talking. "Anyway, so Coach Boomer told me to come over and started yelling at me about disobeying him and I-I didn't say anything at first because I didn't want to be stupid. But then he asked what I had to say for myself and I told him-," I winced. "I said I thought it-um, wasn't a good idea for a gym teacher to let his students get hurt-possibly-or…worse. And it kind of escalated…he told me to go to your office. And I did."
Finally, I take a breath and fold my hands in my lap, unsure whether to keep staring at the desk or look at the principal. She doesn't say anything for a moment except, "I see."
"This is what happened?"
I finally look her in the eye as steadily as I can. I've often heard the eyes are the window to the soul. And maybe if I don't seem like I'm afraid to look at her, she'll see I'm telling the truth. "Yes ma'am."
Principal Powers nods, slowly. She purses her lips, as if thinking. My stomach starts knotting again.
"I see."
Her face clears and she gives me a small smile. "You have a different class now, don't you?"
My eyes widen. Where is she going with this? Am I going to get detention? Suspended? What-"Yes-yes, ma'am."
"Which class?"
"Um-Superhero Ethics. Mr. Ray's my teacher."
Principal Powers nods, then reaches for a small plastic container and produces a slip of paper. She writes for a second. "How do you spell your name?"
"Um-G-W-Y-N-E-T-H. My last name is-pretty easy…,"
"Yes, I know." She hands me the slip and I stare at a freshly written late pass. "Go to your next class. I won't punish you this time, seeing as it's your first time being in trouble—and the somewhat mitigating circumstances."
My mouth falls open for the second time since I've been in her office. I don't even realize until Principal Powers gives me a wry smile. "You know, you might catch flies like that."
"Oh." I blush and close my mouth with a snap. "Uh, sorry." I glance from the pass to the principal who simply sits, smiling slightly at me. "You mean…wait, I can go to my next class? Just like that? I'm not in trouble?"
"Oh, I wouldn't say that." Principal Powers' smile takes on a bit of a grim tone. "I'll have to call your parents and tell them what happened. But if they're understanding, you shouldn't get anything more than a very mild lecture. And I'll be sure to tell them all the facts."
"Oh." My stomach sinks for the millionth time today—but then I think of the last thing she just said and relax a little. Maybe it won't be so bad. After all, if ten or fifteen minutes in the principal's office is the worst thing that's going to happen to me, I'm lucky. And if Principal Powers thought I had "mitigating circumstances", my parents would think the same thing. They had to. Hopefully.
"Do you have to call them?"
"I always call the parents when a student comes in for disciplinary action, however mild." She smiles grimly again. "However, you shouldn't be in much more trouble at home. Now run along, Gwyneth. You don't want to miss all of your next class, you know."
My eyes get huge. I can't think of an intelligent response, so I simply nod dumbly, pick up my backpack from the floor, stand up, and slowly walk out.
Just before the door thuds shut, I hear Principal Powers' clear voice, "Hello? Coach Boomer? Yes, I'm fine. Would you come to my office when you're free, please?"
Walking down the halls feels so strange when everyone is in class. Everything seems empty and still but I can feel how many people are actually around. But then as I walk down the hall, I feel a sense of incredible lightness, and freedom. And then, a smile actually stretches across my face and I try not to laugh out loud. I didn't get in trouble! I went to the Principal's office, and she believed me! She actually listened to my side, and she didn't automatically dismiss it! I hadn't felt truly awesome in a long time, but right then, I felt I had my confidence back.
Then I had an even better thought, and I grinned. Coach Boomer was going to the Principal's office! I'm probably a terrible person, but right now, I'm really wishing I could be there for that conversation.
I wonder if Emily could install a hidden camera in Principal Powers' office?
A solid orange chest nearly collides with mine around the corner, and I find myself practically nose to nose with Chris Collins and the stretchy kid—Lash. My heart skips, then slows down to a normal rate. I don't know these two very well, but they seem pretty cool. Yet part of me wonders what they're doing out of class. Together.
"Hey, Ice Princess." Lash grins, stepping closer.
"Hey," I say as coolly as possible, trying not to correct him too suddenly. "Actually—my name's Gwyneth."
"Cool." Chris Collins steps closer and I suddenly feel a bit uncomfortable, though I smile at them, trying to still look casual and friendly.
"That was pretty impressive what you did back there." Lash grins at me and I grin back. He's really cute. He truly is, and I can't help but feel a little flattered that somebody thought what I did was impressive.
"Yeah…it was, uh, nothing." I shrug.
"Yeah, well, you know, someone like you could be pretty helpful. You could be a pal, help us out." Lash is still smiling at me, leaning against the wall, but it somehow feels less friendly.
"Um…I'd really love to," I say. "But right now I really have to go to class."
The two boys exchange glances. Then Chris Collins gives me a small smile. "Cool," he says. "But we'll catch you later."
They show no signs of moving, so I walk by, trying not to notice their eyes still on me, or the whispers I can't quite hear.
