Chapter Seventy-Five

John brushed a hand over his beard, feeling the little lines where hair refused to grow on his scars. "Listen, Arnold, I didn't do shit. Someone else put the pot in my locker, and I tossed it as soon as I knew what it was."

Principal Anderson held his hand up, motioning for him to be quiet. "Johnathan, that's not what I'm concerned about." He placed the papers John had completed while he was in the beginnings of detox on the desk, pointing to the A+ grades. "Did you have anyone else in your home do these for you?" He asked, holding his hand up as John started to look more threatening. "I'm not accusing you of cheating. I just want to know if this really is your own work." He pulled John's file from the file cabinet, showing the copies of John's grades over the years. "See, according to this, your grades have barely been passing since first grade." He looked up at John. "Until mid-March last spring."

Dominic stepped in, making sure John didn't risk a seizure or zoning out from over stimulated nerves. "He was abused by his folks since first grade until March. He's always been super smart, but his grades were so bad because he couldn't concentrate through the pain." He motioned to John's scars. "He can prove his brain power if you need him to." He looked at John as his fingers twitched, making sure he wasn't going into a seizure. "If you give me the books for all of those, I'll quiz him right here."

Principal Anderson nodded, opening a text book to the pages of the work sheets. "Ten of them at random." He stated, watching as Dominic met his cousin's eyes a silent question and answer passing between them. "Question one: What year was the Battle of Midway?"

John looked up at him, answering without a second's hesitation. "The exact dates were, June fourth through June seventh in the year 1942. The coordinates to the island are: 28.2072 north, by 177.3735 west." He looked at the Principal. "The death count for the U.S. in that battle was: 307 soldiers, we lost the U.S.S Yorktown, and 145 aircraft."

The Principal took the book from Dominic, having to read through four pages to get all of the information John had just stated. "How?"

Dominic beamed, patting John on the back. "He's a genius, is how."

Principal Anderson looked up from the book, writing a few things down on a piece of paper and handing it to John. "Give that to your guardians. I'd like to speak with them before the week is over."

John took the paper from him, his brow furrowing. "You're not going to give us detention?" He asked, so used to getting Saturday detention that he couldn't believe he was getting a free pass.

Principal Anderson nodded. "If you stay out of trouble for the rest of the day, I'll give you a pass."

The cousins smirked, standing to leave the room. "Thank you, Sir."

"Boys." He stopped them, watching as they turned. "You're not bad fighters, ever think of joining the boxing or wrestling team?"

John scoffed, smirking at the man. "Boxing, maybe. But I'm not too keen on rolling around on the floor with a bunch of other guys in tights."

Dominic chuckled, patting John's wrappings on his chest. "Besides, he's still gotta heal up a little."

He nodded, looking at John. "I'm sorry about any pain I might have caused you."

John shrugged, placing his hand on the side of his ribs. "It's fine. I was more shocked than hurt."

Principal Anderson nodded, looking up as the final bell rang. "Don't forget to give that to your guardians. And we'll see you at the Battle of the Bands tomorrow."

John and Dominic chuckled, tossing something at him. "Here's a sneak peek of what we'll be doing up there." Dominic chuckled, watching as he looked at the tape. "We don't have the best equipment for recording, but it's descent enough. John's voice is strong enough that I think it picked up most of what we were trying to get."

John shook his head, touching a had to his throat as he felt something give a twinge in his vocal chords. "I just need to figure out how to keep it from getting to rough at the end." He stated, letting Dominic punch his shoulder.

"Maybe you should quit with the Roger Daltrey screams then." He laughed, knowing how much strain that put on John's voice. "But I'll bet it'll be fine tomorrow."