I'm sorry this took a while- things have been hectic. This story will be finishing soon, so thank you to anyone still reading- you have a better attention span than I do.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Chapter 37- Accident
Sheldon's POV
Tap. Tap. Tap. Panting like a greyhound at the end of a race, I rapped my fist against the door so hard that I almost expected the wood to splinter. What was taking the principal?
A few seconds later, Miss Danvers opened the door,her pupils instantly raised to the ceiling as they caught sight of my face... maybe she'd been having a bad day?
"Sheldon, Dr. Crabblesnitch is very busy at the moment," the pretty secretary groaned. Behind her voice, I heard two sharp voices. Standing on tiptoes, I saw two women talking to my friend Dr. Crabblesnitch, each with an expensive-looking dress and businesslike expression plastered upon their faces, poorly masking a slight boredom.
"Sheldon, you can come back later,"
"But Miss Danvers-" I began to explain, quickly cut off by the harrassed woman. Peering past the secretary, I noticed the unknown familiarity of the two women; reddish brown ribbons curled about her face, while her light blue shirt marked them out as rich. However, the way Crabblesnitch addressed her- Ms Tyler- was unfamiliar. Perhaps a new student I could make friends with?
"Please, Sheldon, this is an important meeting-"
"Miss, please listen to me!"
"Sheldon, don't interrupt! I'm surprised at y-"
"There's a fight in the Hole," At the mention of the brawl's location, sparks of interest lit up her coffee coloured irises- the Hole was a sort of rumour around the staff room that most dismissed as lies, a bit like people did when Pedro told them that Mr. Hattrick was a sniper in Korea. Eventually, my good friend appeared by the door.
"Sheldon, boy, what is the problem?"
Tad's POV
"Tad!" Appalled, my head snapped around to see several late arrivals to the fight; Dr Crabblesnitch, a little kid, Mrs Taylor, and my mother, her mouth stretched into an almost cartoonish oval, about to begin pleading like I'd heard so often before with Dad. However, whatever she was about to say was cut off by the one peon least qualified to intervene. Take a guess who.
"What is the meaning of this? Get out of there this instant!" Crabblesnitch ordered, ever under the illusion that he possessed authority. My ears heard, but they weren't listening. Perhaps if my pride hadn't muffled his voice, the whole mess would have turned out more back into the hole, I stalked over, passing Bif on my way. Strangely, it occured to me that- despite having nothing else in common- the cliques each seemed able to depend on their allies; egg yolk dripped down the walls, screams of encouragement echoed from almost every lung and shards of glass studded the floor of the Hole, a putrid green liquid glazing the floor. A mess, to put it politely.
My presence seemed to have the same effect as steroids on the greaseball contender- no sooner had I came within arm's reach than a fist flew out at me. It was followed by a kick. A hit to the gut. A right hook to the face. Not surprisingly, I dodged almost every one effortlessly- it wasn't like I'd never been hit before- before flinging one blindly, stupidly. I waited for the thud, the blood on my knuckles. Instead, my hit attacked the air. I thudded to the floor, a shard of glass crashing into my flesh. At the same moment that a sharp pain ripped through my side, a toxic panic began to creep into the air, suffocating the jeering crowd until there was a frightened silence screaming from every face; Christy's, Johnny's, my mother's... Each face began to blur, my vision seeping away with the warm liquid running from my side, mingling with the green concoction from the nerd's stink bombs.
I was in deep trouble.