"I hope next time you make wiser choices, Caller." Mr. Becker says as he pushes hi office door open. Franklin leaves the room with one hand rubbing his teary eyes and the other rubbing his ass. Mr. Becker points to me. "Cullen."

I sigh as I stand and make my way to the office. My mind runs wild with ideas of how I can get out of this. I don't have much time.

"You can have a seat right there." Mr. Becker says and gives a curt nod to the wooden chair in front of his desk. I sigh and sink down in it. Mr. Becker steps out of the doorway so the door can shut, and stands behind me for a few seconds. I close my eyes, but I know he's smirking at me. If he only knew how horrible of a situation he really has me in. "So, Cullen, what do you have to say for yourself?"

I rack my brain for an answer that can lead for an out for me as he makes his way to his big desk chair.

"I wasn't involved in Caller and Deck's prank, sir." I lie quickly.

"Oh really?" Becker scoffs. "From what I hear, you were the brains of the operation."

I shake my head no, even though it's true. I did talk Caller and Deck into going through with the prank, and I had to instruct the dimwits through the whole thing.

Franklin, Thomas and I sit next to each other in the back row of our classroom. We're usually pretty good students, or at least mediocre. The boy who sits on front of Thomas, a scrawny little ass named Jonathan, does nothing but nitpick at everyone else. Jonathan's father was running to be the town mayor, but some dirty family secrets got out and ruined his chance of winning. His family had a decent amount of money, but all of it was spent in attempt to cover up these secrets. Jonathan still thinks he's above everyone else, though.

Earlier in the day, before school started, Jonathan was picking on a boy who came to school in a pair of pants that have obviously been ripped and sewn multiple times before. When class started, Caller pointed out that instead of a belt, Jonathan had a piece of twine holding his pants up. His pair of trousers were a few sizes too big, which meant his mother most likely bought the clothing second-hand instead of brand new. I told Caller and Deck that it would be funny if someone cut the twine so Jonathan's pants would hit his ankles when he stood up. Caller had a pocket knife and Deck was right behind Jonathan, and I talked them into going through with it. It took a while to cut through because we didn't want to tug so much on it that it alerted Jonathan of what we were doing, but we finished it just in time. The teacher asked Jonathan to come to the front of the class to solve a problem on the chalk board, and as soon as he climbed out of his desk, his pants dropped to the ground. Everyone was laughing, even the teacher chuckled some. It was some sweet justice for the little prick.

After the teacher had her little laugh, she became serious again as Jonathan discovered that the twine had been cut. Some jerk that sat a few seats away from me ratted us out and told her that it was Caller's knife, my idea and Deck was the one who went through with it.

"I may have given the idea, but can I really be held responsible because they decided to do it?" I ask. Becker scowls at me.

"Your friends both told the same story, Cullen. They both said you were pushing them to do it and that you even gave them tips on how to cut the twine without disrupting Jonathan."

"But I didn't actually cut it myself. I can't be held responsible for an idea that I didn't go through with."

Mr. Becker's harsh eyes look like someone set them aflame. He jumps out of his seat and rounds the desk until he's standing so close to me that my knees touch his legs.

"You are responsible for your part, Cullen! Who do you think you are to embarrass a fellow student? It was your harebrained idea, so you're the most responsible out of the three of you!" He yells. I lean back, not because I'm intimidated by him, but because he spits when he talks. "What will you parents say when they hear about your behavior? I'm sure they'll be embarrassed because of you!"

He continues on about how big of an embarrassment I must be and how horrible I am. I tune out his voice and try to think of a way to get out of this.

"Stand up Cullen and put your hands on the desk." He tells me

"Mr. Becker, I really don't think it's in any of our best interests to do that." I say. His face turns red.

"And why not, Cullen?"

I open my mouth to respond, but hesitate as my mind runs wild trying to come up with a reason.

Hey guys, sorry about the first version of this chapter. I didn't realize that the spacing was all messed up. Hopefully this chapter is formatted correctly.

Anyways, any ideas of how Emmett's going to get himself out of this?