The beginning of a new school year is heralded by many traditions and customs both momentous and mundane; from the teacher getting an apple, to the note in a lunch container from a loving parent. Some institutions of higher learning have Homecoming festivities for past and present students which coalesce around a sporting event.

For the students of RS 59, one tradition was how long it would take before the first prep school made the first attempt of the academic year to wrangle Stumpy Paulson out of their educational environment. With the arrest and disappearance of their last principal, some had begun to wonder whether this tradition would continue with the arrival of Principal Simmons; as the second week ended and the third began, a smaller handful from there out-and-out lost hope altogether and mentally prepared themselves for this tradition to fall to the wayside…but then, just as all hope seemed lost, the crackling of the intercom and the summons of their new principal put their fears to rest.

The lad in question could only let out a dry chuckle upon seeing the job RS 59's maintenance staff had done in etching out 'Canker' from the doorway in favor of the school's new administrator before crudely slapping a bronze plaque over their failed endeavor; another omen that (as usual) his perennial pleas to not be shunted off like intellectual livestock would fall on deaf ears. Yet for a moment, as he saw the gentile and comprehensive manner by which this new administrator treated him, and how he heard Stumpy's arguments as to why he should stay (arguments that he felt could be made stronger by virtue of his friendships with Fifi and Brawny).

The moment, regardless of Robert's clear awe and sympathy for Stumpy's situation, was unfortunately all too brief.

"Look, I'm not going to lie. As admirable and well-spoken as your worldview may be, a town like Thicket Valley isn't exactly…well…generous with prospects to the gifted."

Mr. Simmons stopped for a minute and placed an application packet for Mount Ellis on his desk in Stumpy's general direction. The boy could see his principal's hands were tied on the matter, a position made all the more apparent as his voice got uncharacteristically grave while continuing.

"Mount Ellis sent it to me this morning. I'm not going to push you into something you don't want. But I still want you to give some very serious thought to this chance. You may have been lucky that you have had ample episodes of opportunity gracing you like this, but at some point the knocking stops. I'm giving you this application sheet to take home where you can think this over."

Stumpy took the papers and placed them reverently in his homework folder. He walked back to Ms. Czek's class sure of himself in the decision to continue to stay at RS 59, but as he stepped out of the hallway and took a long look at his classmates, the lad's once ironclad resolve began to dissolve like drink mix; his classmates had no questions to ask of him, if anything his return to Room 213 was marked with the same pomp and wonder of a breeze that happened to waft on by.

The only set of eyes which seemed to look up at him upon coming back into the classroom belonged to the class bully Shanna who often ridiculed his answers with the acerbic retort of 'if you're so smart go cure cancer' before cackling at her alleged wit.

"Well, well, look what decided to crawl back." She sneered. "Did Yalevard accept you yet or were they bored to death by what a little geek you are?"

Before Stumpy could answer, Brawny began to slowly ascended from his seat. Between the commanding way he cleared his throat coupled with crossing his arms over his chest to highlight his biceps the size of boulders. The kid clearly put the fear of God into every occupant in the class, even Ms. Czek.

"Are the four of us going to have a problem?" He asks in a slow but deep voice.

"The four of us?"

"Yeah. You, me and the boys!" He responds with a flex of his arms.

Casting one last venomous sneer at Stumpy, Shanna cowers back into her seat and closes the hood of her over-sized flaming skull hoodie over her face in an attempt to not incur the ire of their mountainous classmate. But despite having the backing of a guy who could bench-press a train, he opened his folder and took a long look at the paper he received from Mr. Simmons moments ago.

The packet.

The class.

The packet.

The class…

…The packet.

The class.

The packet

The class.

Stumpy strolled back to Principal Simmons' office packet in tow to announce that he had finally given up trying to avoid the inevitable and surrendered to admission into the Mount Ellis school. Nonetheless, the echoing iambs that announced each footstep seemed to be as salt to a wound; almost mocking him all the more as to how little of a choice he had in the matter.

Upon coming to the threshold, the diminutive dude stood at the slightly opened doorway for what felt like an epoch as he took one last glance at the admission packet he spent last evening filling out.

In theory, Stumpy Paulson still could say no to this.

The wastepaper basket was only a stone's throw from where he stood. What's to say he could "lose" the packet and go along his merry way to class?

Or even better, what's to stop him from entering the office and finding the stones to tear it to shreds in front of Principal Simmons?

For the briefest of moments, Stumpy Paulson could feel a roaring flicker of flame regarding his philosophies on prestigious schools rise upon once again seeing the faded remnants of the name George Gordon Canker which stubbornly remained despite being scraped, sanded, and blasted at in preparation for his successor. And with the conviction of Prometheus taking fire from the Gods, he would hold this proverbial candle skyward and once again…

…Who was he kidding?

Even if a candle does not get extinguished, it is still only as good as its wick; and Stumpy no longer had it in him to keep his ideals burning through the void of RS 59.

Deep down, he knew that this Morton's Fork of a choice he had between labeling himself intellectual cattle at Mount Ellis was the right one when stacked against staying in a primordial and underfunded educational environment, occupied by bellicose peers and a staff with crushed dreams. With that he gave one last resigned yet final sigh before gently pushing the door open a little more and entering the expanse proper.

"Principal Simmons?"

"Oh, good morning Stumpy. Have you given some thought to our chat yesterday?"

Rather than answer, Stumpy laid the packet on the administrator's desk. Hoping it could say more than he ever could on the matter.