New chapter and a short opening note from me because it's late and I'm tired and want to go to bed now, yay!

Lov,

-Tommy

"This is the last straw, Mr. Kastler! You have wreaked havoc amongst the students of this school for the last time! Do you understand me? You're two strikes up, as far as I even know! Don't let there be a third!"

Gordie breathed heavily in and out, rubbing the top of his upper thighs to warm them from the goosebumps of fear pushing up through his skin. Arthur had been in there for exactly thirty-six minutes, and his meeting hadn't gotten any better. It was now that Gordie feared for his life.

Inside the room, the principal's voice softened to a low mutter, so much that Gordie had to strain his ears and lean a little closer to the door to his office if he wanted to hear (which he wasn't exactly sure that he did).

"What am I going to do with you?" Headmaster Anderson said with an edge. "You get expelled from school to school and we are the only ones that take you in? Think of your dear mother and father, Mr. Kastler. Would they have wanted it this way?"

Arthur murmured something so quietly that Gordie couldn't hear.

"I asked you a question!" The Headmaster yelled suddenly. Gordie jumped. Arthur whimpered. "Would your dearly deceased parents have wanted it this way? Huh?!" He sighed, and something slammed. "Get out, you little punk. This is going on your record, mark my words."

"Y-yes sir." Arthur said quietly.

"And send Lachance in!" He yelled in a final goodbye. Gordie stiffened, listening as Arthur scurried towards the door. The entrance to the Headmaster's office opened, and the boy appeared, holding a block of melting ice to his now blackened eye. Gordie stood up.

"You're gunna pay for this, Lachance." He growled, attempting to slam the door, but Gordie caught it. His eyes lighting, Arthur added in a last attempt, "Headmaster wants you in. Get ready…"

Gordie gulped, holding firm to the door frame, willing his feet to move forwards, but at the same time willing them to run away. What laid behind that door, Gordie didn't know, but if Arthur and the children before him was any example, Gordie got a pretty good-or bad-idea.

"Come inside, Gordon." A calm, tired, grainy voice of an older man called from inside the room. "You'll let a draft in."

Gordie gulped again, curling his fingers around the wood of the door before taking a step inside, closing the door softly behind him. He looked around the room. Matching the rest of the school, the office was old-fashioned looking, high ceilings made of dark wood panelling that lead all the way down the walls and across the floor. The room was circular and not as large as Gordie had expected. The ceiling, slanted at the top, were lofty and inhabited by spider webs across the rafters. Bookshelves piled high with yearbooks and twelve different sets of dictionaries and encyclopedias and all kinds of phonebooks for parental contact lined the walls all the ten feet up to the top, a sliding ladder attached so that one could reach each one of the beautiful books. A single standard-rectangle window with the shades drawn stood across from the door, a large desk with two chairs in front of at the head of the room. The desk was very simply decorated-a stack of books on top of which sat an old-looking telephone with the frayed cable trailing across the ground, a pot of various pens and pencils, a pile of important-looking documents and letters, a yellow-tinted legal pad filled with chicken scratch notes and a cracked white vase adorn with a pair of wilting red roses. There, at the head of the desk, sat the Headmaster.

Headmaster Anderson was much less intimidating than Gordie would have thought. He mostly looked just tired. His greying, balding hair was losing it's gusto, wrinkles sagging his face downwards, the bags under his eyes darkening. His eyes were a glazed-over blue, but at the moment were not visible, as the were turned downwards towards the top of his desk, his head resting on his folded hands, elbows propped up on the desktop. Gordie stood silently in the doorway, watching.

"Sit." The headmaster ordered suddenly, lifting one hand listlessly to motion towards the chair in front of him. Gordie hesitated, then did as he was told, crossing the room as quietly as possible to sit in the creaky grey padded seat, his footsteps plink-plunking on the noisy old wood. He sat, watching his hands, and then the headmaster, and then his hands again.

Anderson sighed, placed his hands on the desk and sitting up, his back straight against the back of his big arm chair and his thick palms interlaced over the legal pad menacingly.

"So," he said quietly, studying Gordie, who attempted to study him back, but ended up just staring at the surface of his striped tie. He looked like a man who was usually put together, but just not on this particular day. His white shirt was wrinkly and was in desperate need of ironing, his jacket was covered in cat hair and lint and his tie was too loose and flopped over his chest like a lump of striped blue and robin's-egg spaghetti. I could fix all that, Gordie thought, If he would let me…

"So, I heard that you gave Mr. Kastler a black eye?" Headmaster Anderson said calmly. Gordie shivered, as if it was cold in the actually uncomfortably hot room.

"Yes sir." Gordie said quietly. "But it was for good reason, sir, if you would just let me-"

"No need to speak, please, Mr. Lachance." The Headmaster said calmly, holding up a hand. Gordie lowered himself in his seat. "I wasn't done yet."

Gordie nodded, his face reddening, bated breath plaguing his chest.

"I have to say," Anderson continued. "I wouldn't take you for the type of boy to become violent, but first impressions are almost always entirely wrong." He chuckled, smiling a little. Gordie laughed nervously.

"I wouldn't have taken myself to be the violent type as well, to be honest." Gordie replied with a shrug. The headmaster nodded.

"May I ask, what compelled you to do such an act? Mr. Kastler informs me that he was provoked when you misinterpreted a conversation with him and another student, which resulted in him injuring Mr. D'Anthony, and such and such. What is your take on this?"

Gordie thought for a moment, sitting on his hands to keep himself from fiddling with his uncomfortable tie and jacket, thus showing signs of weakness.

"I…I…" be bit his lip, "Caspar and I were going to drop off a letter in the mailboxes and…" He took a deep breath. He was going to hate himself for the rest of his life for this… "And we heard some noises so we went into that room and I guess I thought he was hurting this kid so I kind of threatened him and we got in a fight…Caspar got in the middle, and he accidentally got hurt…I socked Arthur, and that kid freaked out and went to get Ms. Graves. I'm sorry, sir. I guess I kind of provoked him. It was my fault. Self defense."

Headmaster Anderson just looked shocked.

"Are…" he stammered, "Are you sure that's what happened?"

Gordie hesitated for a moment.

"Positive." He replied quietly.

The Headmaster looked at him for a while.

"Well, then, Mr. Lachance," he said quietly. "I am very disappointed."

Gordie felt his heart sink.

"You are dismissed."

"Yes sir." Gordie said after a moment's hesitation, getting up from his seat. "Thank you, sir."

He crossed the room silently, placing his hand on the cold doorknob.

"And Gordon?" The Headmaster's voice called. Gordie turned.

"Yeah?" He asked, not feeling like being polite. He as tired and disappointed in himself and everyone else around him.

"You don't have to be afraid to tell the truth." Anderson said quietly. "Lies aren't tolerated at this school, and I don't seem to understand why you would be doing so to protect someone who has done nothing for you. You have nothing to prove. Remember that. What you did was a noble deed, and you should be proud. Good day."