103. Summer Plans

I feel like a kid forced to go on those drugs for ADD and feeling now like a zombie. Motionless. Lifeless. Hollow. Spent.

Good thing that I have expulsion to wake me up.

“What?”

This is my life word. My life verse. My life summary.

“What?”

I’m sitting in Principal Harking’s office once again.

Stop me if you’ve heard this one before.

I’m sitting there not just being accused this time, but being told.

“There are two options here, Chris. Making up for this year by taking summer school and retaking your failed classes, or being expelled.”

I think of a split cantaloupe and how they scoop out the brains—I mean seeds—before slicing it.

“Chris?”

“Yes.”

“Do you understand what I’m saying?”

So far, this is what I think the principal has told me. We’re the only ones here—no cops or my mom or Gus or whoever.

First she tells me that it was reported that I pulled a knife on Gus in art. I don’t yell in my defense. Frankly, I’m too tired to yell. I think I laugh and tell her the truth. But the truth is some sickly orphan around this place. Nobody wants anything to do with the truth. Nobody.

The thin red line in front of me known as Principal Harking says in an automated fashion that since she can’t prove that I wielded the knife, it’s simply going in my file. On my record. Blah blah blah. Yada yada yada.

“But your grades are another matter.”

My grades?

She proceeds to tell me that I’m failing three classes.

Failing.

Three.

Classes.

French, which surprises me but not really.

Talk to the guy whose name is on the tombstone. He’ll help.

Algebra II, which does surprise me because I’ve been doing halfway decent.

And English, which is crazy.

“I can’t be failing three classes.”

But she shows me. She’s talked to the teachers. Since I’m a bad egg, they need to throw the bad egg out before it gets salmonella.

This town should be renamed Salmonella.

“So your option is to finish this week and then report to summer school the following week.”

What about my plans to vacation in Maui? I want to protest, but really, how and why?

This is beyond a conspiracy.

This is like the rest of everything that’s happened here.

“Poe didn’t deserve to get expelled,” I tell the principal.

“We’re not talking about her today.”

“I am.”

The principal steadies herself in her chair like a pencil sharpening its tip.

“It does not surprise me in the least that the two of you are friends.”

“She doesn’t use drugs.”

“With more of that attitude, I can make your stay at this school extremely unpleasant.”

“I wouldn’t say it’s been wonderful so far.”

She looks at me.

I suddenly feel like I’m waking up and filling in.

And once again, it’s anger and rage inside of me.

She can see the look on my face.

I’m staring right at her.

She doesn’t frighten me. No way. Not around here, not when there are a hundred other things to frighten me.

“You will need to fill these out for summer school. Part of that will involve detention.”

“Awesome.”

“Chris.”

“Yes?”

“You’re heading down the wrong path.”

“And what path is that?”

“You still have one more year here,” she says.

“Do I? Do you really know that?”

“Chris.”

“I might not be here tomorrow. You might not be either. You never know, do you?”

I stand up and grab the papers from her and walk out.

I’m wide awake now.

Wide awake and feeling just absolutely awesome that I get to see this hellhole for the summer.