Although they were told to return to class, Quinn paused to watch Mr. Shirkner usher the nurse into his office. Alan Shirkner. He hangs out by the curb in the morning, yelling at parents who drop off their kids in the bus zone; he gives boring speeches; he passes out awards; he makes kids go to crisis resolution meetings. That’s what principals do—that’s all our principal does. That’s what Quinn had thought, up until now.
“It’s twelve twenty-nine, I’m a-feeling fine.” Sam broke into a skip as he and Neally and Quinn approached the portable building. “The Mighty Quinn is vindicated!”
Neally gave Sam a high-five. “This calls for celebration!”
“Not exactly.” Quinn glanced back at the school’s office building.
“Then what, exactly?” Neally asked carefully.
“I didn’t hit Matt, but I wanted to. I’ve wanted to for years.” Quinn sighed. “But not anymore.”
Three friends silently trudged up the ramp to their classroom.