Chapter 15

It almost would have been nice to wake up an hour later or something. You know, in a hospital surrounded by people worried about me. But nope, when I groggily came to, it looked like it was just seconds later. Zelda was lightly tapping my face, freaking out, while Jason stood over me.

My face really hurt. It took a lot of seconds to process it. I moved my face around, flexing my face muscles. All of them hurt. My teeth hurt. My face felt wet and a little sticky. Was I bleeding? “Blood...” I murmured, lightheaded. My mouth wasn’t working enough to say anything more.

Zelda’s look was that of pure concern. “Yeah, I’m seeing it,” she murmured with a nod, then turned back to Jason.

“Piece of fuckin’ shit,” Jason said with energy and poison. People were gathering around us. He didn’t bother with any more words. He wasn’t here to make a speech, or bother listening to me at all. He grabbed Zelda by the shoulder and shoved her to the side, making sure no one was between me and him.

I was able to see and think somewhat clearly, but I was still laying down on the floor. Karate hadn’t prepared me for this at all, even if I kept going there every week. Jason grabbed me by the collar of my shirt and hoisted me up, making me cough. “Why the fuck did I think I could trust you?” he growled through gritted teeth.

I opened my mouth to answer but nothing came out. He had the look of death on his face, and I doubted ‘well, your paranoia kind of caused this’ would have helped me by this point. The dude was beating up another kid in the middle of the hallway of a no-violence school. He did not give a fuck what happened to him at this point.

He clearly had enough of looking at my face and I felt an impact, right at my throat. My vision and thoughts prickled with pain and a fading sensation. I was in the fetal position, clutching my throat, nearly losing consciousness again, before I faded back into reality. Zelda was screaming at him to stop. Other students were yelling things too, but no one was actually stepping forward. No one was actually helping me. I was gasping for breath, clutching my throat, realizing I had no lifelines here. It really was Jason versus me, and Jason was going to win.

The fuck was going to happen? Was I going to die there? Was I going to black out? I had no idea what was going to happen. Fuck scared, I was terrified. Jason could kill me if he wanted to, and judging by his expression, he wouldn’t have any issues going through with it.

I saw him lunge forward, and thought quick. With my back on the floor, my arms were useless, but my legs weren’t. He stupidly took a wide stance standing over me, getting ready to hit me in the face again, so I took the opportunity and kicked him right between the legs.

I felt my shoe impact with something soft. Gross. Jason shrunk back from his position immediately, screaming like a banshee, both hands on his crotch, stumbling backwards until he too fell to the floor. I wasn’t celebrating – it turns out getting hit in the throat doesn’t wear off in a few seconds. The entire time I was still gasping for breath. Fights were supposed to be awesome. We just looked pathetic.

As if that wasn’t enough, who else but Mr. fucking Graves quickly stumbled upon us less than a minute later. He demanded an onlooker explain the situation to him, then immediately got both of us up and ordered us both to go to the principal’s office without making any other stops. I had blood on my face and could only wheeze in response. Jason blinked through his tears, a sickly expression on his face, and had a more difficult time walking than me. Nevertheless, we both eventually made our way to the main office, then the principal’s office, the both of us sitting down and ignoring each other, our faces hot with the anger of two boys that hated each others’ guts but knew they were in huge trouble.

When we were brought into Mr. Scott’s room, he was turned around, facing the outer window. When he turned to face us, it was like I didn’t know him. The cheeriness that usually occupied his face, even when he was at his most concerned, was gone. His face took on a whole new feeling – pure authority. And disappointment.

“Boys, I won’t waste your time or mine,” he began. “Both of you were seen in the hallway. You both know what you were doing. I have it on good authority that each of you attacked the other. Now I understand you both may have your reasons, and one of you may have ‘started it,’ but at the end of the day you both were in a fight and that is not what happens in my school, do I make myself clear?”

I slowly nodded. I didn’t even want to look at Jason and whatever expression he had on his face.

“And you both can throw out any hope you have right now,” he continued, hands on his desk. “If you’re lucky, you’ll only get a suspension. Both of you. I am going to get more information about this little incident, and if I need to expel either or both of you, I will.”

This wasn’t fair. I was only defending myself. I had to speak up, even if my voice was barely anything more than a wheeze. “Mr. Scott-”

“Not ... another word, Adam,” Mr. Scott warned me, concentrated power emanating from the first word of his sentence. He paused, then walked back to the window, this time still facing us. “Both of you will get your belongings and go to the main office. Sit as far away from each other as you can. You are not allowed to even speak to each other. Don’t go to your friends, don’t go to class, just grab your things from your locker and come back. Do you understand?”

I paused, but nodded meekly again.

Mr. Scott nodded back, then turned to look out the window. I slowly turned to the door, but sharply looked away when I locked eyes with Jason. What a fucking prick. He looked completely fine. I could feel my face had puffed up a little, I was bleeding, and I couldn’t speak like a normal human being. He just got retribution. And yet we were being judged as equals in this?? This wasn’t fucking fair.

Jason got up and walked out of the office, leaving me alone with Scott. I looked back at him, tempted to plead my case now that it was just us two. Mr. Scott and I always got along, after all.

“Don’t even think about it,” Scott said without even looking in my direction, having seemingly read my mind. “Just go.”

I sighed, walking out of the room and heading back towards my locker. The halls were empty. Class had begun at this point.

I froze mid-step. Fuck. The mask presentations. My group was supposed to be going today. And Salvador had a policy of “go when you agreed or get a zero.” Hell, it’s what Zelda and I were talking about before Jason decided to make his stupid fucking little entrance. His fucking moment. His two minutes of fucking Hazelwood fame.

What the hell was I going to tell Zelda and the other two? We needed all four of us to present, they couldn’t just go, “Oh, imagine there’s a fourth guy saying his own lines and it’s really good, Salvador.” I just screwed us over. Fuck that, Jason just screwed them over. But what could I even do about it...?

I looked at my locker, then at the door to the aud. Scott’s words of warning rang in my ears, but I ignored them, pushing through the aud doors but hugging the wall. Thanks to the lighting booth setup, when you first walked into the aud, no one could see you from the stage.

I paused. I did not want the class to see me like this, puffy and bloody. I bit my lower lip. Yeah, it was time to be cowardly. “Mr. Salvador,” I called out. The murmuring of the room quieted down, but there was no response. “Mr. Salvador!” I called out again.

“Adam, just come in,” Salvador’s voice called back. “Hurry up, you’re late.”

“I can’t,” I called back. “I need you to come here please.”

“What do you mean, ‘you can’t?’ You need to tell me what that means,” the annoyed voice of Salvador called back. “Come here and get ready for your performance.”

Zelda’s voice added to the mix. “Salvador, please trust me, you should go to Adam,” she gently advised him. I heard no response, but instead, the sound of a decently heavy guy getting up from a flimsy audience chair, and footsteps coming towards me.

When Salvador saw me, he recoiled. “What the hell...?” he said in an out-of-character breathless voice.

“I, uh...” I began, struggling not to cry. Seeing him was the thing that made all of this feel real. It still felt so surreal, like it wasn’t even happening. “I can’t do my mask performance today. I’m sorry...” Tears were falling down my face. “I think, I ... I think I’m going to get expelled...”

Salvador’s voice was as breathless as mine. “Adam, what did you do?” he asked, his face darker than I’d ever seen.

“I didn’t do anything!!” I yelled, not caring that the whole class quieted down. They could definitely hear me. My voice cracked thanks to the shot to the neck I took. My tears were hot with rage as they streamed down my cheeks. “I got fucking attacked and I fucking defended myself and now I’m going to get fucking expelled because I didn’t fucking lay down and just accept fucking death, I guess!!”

Salvador paused. “Is this the same person?”

As last year?? “No, new guy,” I replied, calmer now but still angry. “Long story.”

“I don’t need to hear it,” he told me. “What am I supposed to do with that, Adam?”

“Do whatever you want,” I told him hoarsely. “It’s over for me. Game over. I just wanted to tell you because the rest of my team doesn’t deserve zeroes for this. I guess I just wanted to say I’m sorry to you.”

“You haven’t yet,” Salvador replied.

My face scrunched up. Was fucking that really his priority right now?? But still, if I said that’s why I was here, and it helped my team, I guess I’d play his stupid game. “I’m sorry,” I told him solemnly. “This is so fucked up.”

“So Mr. Scott has told you to-”

“Pack my things, right,” I finished the sentence. “I might get expelled, but from the sounds of things, I’m definitely getting suspended.”

He stared at me for a bit. “For defending yourself?” he asked.

“Scott wouldn’t let me explain. You know the zero-tolerance policy or whatever,” I replied. “A guy came at me, hit me in the face, hit me in the fucking throat, so when he came at me a third time, I kicked him where it hurts. I was fucking scared, Salvador. I was scared!”

He stared at me for a bit, then looked at the door I came from. “I’m going to the office,” he told me. “I don’t care what Mr. Scott told you. Stay here.” He took a step towards the class, and cleared his throat. “You all have five minutes to rehearse and prepare. Use it well. I’ll be back quickly.” Without another word, he walked with purpose out of the door, no doubt heading straight for Scott’s office.

When the door closed, I awkwardly stood there. What the hell was I supposed to do now? Hide in the corner of the aud until he came back? Eventually the murmur and then the full-on hum of conversations between mask groups came back, and I just leaned against the wall, making sure no one could see me or my fucked-up face.

I heard someone’s footsteps approaching the door and nearly had a heart attack until I saw Zelda poke her face around the corner. “Hey,” she greeted me gingerly, a soft sad expression on her face. “How are you feeling?”

“Don’t ask,” I replied bitterly, turning away.

“The swelling is going down,” she replied with hope in her voice.

“Oh, so my face is back to normal?” I asked pessimistically.

She didn’t reply. She slowly walked up beside me and sympathetically, if awkwardly, touched my shoulder. “Did Salvador go out to talk to the principal?”

“Yeah,” I sighed, then turned back to her. “Hey, at least I bought the team a few more minutes, right?”

“I mean, we’d still be screwed without you,” she replied. “Do you think maybe you could come with me and-”

“Nope,” I interrupted, shaking my head. “And don’t ask me again. I don’t want to show my face around them when it’s like this.”

Zelda nodded. “I think I figured you would say that,” she replied, producing a piece of paper. “So, since you’re as nosy as me...”

I looked at the paper she had. The attendance. I could take it to the attendance office and snoop on the other offices in the process. It meant going out in the open with my fucked-up face, but if it meant I could overhear how they were deciding the rest of my life, it would be worth it. A smile slowly broke out on my face. “Are you sure...?” I asked. If Salvador didn’t take the attendance to the office, it was always Zelda who did. Plus, I knew she was nosy as hell too.

She shrugged, smiling. “Somehow I felt today of all days, you deserve it,” she told me kindly. She hand found my shoulder again, her touch less awkward. It was warm and friendly. “I hope you’re not hurting too badly.”

I took the attendance sheet. “Thanks, Zelda. I owe you one.”

“No, you don’t,” she told me with a smile. I smiled back and said nothing more, exiting the aud then powerwalking through the hallway.

I didn’t even bother to go to the attendance office first, and instead crept up to the door to Mr. Scott’s office, pressing my ear against it. Silence. I frowned, looking through the window to the main office, where Mr. Scott was standing, arms folded. Nicole was in there too, and by the looks of things, she had both heard about the news and was furious with it. I crept up to the window and leaned down, being able to see in without them seeing me. Luckily, they were speaking loudly enough that I could hear them through the window.

“Don’t push me,” Nicole warned him, pacing back and forth in front of him. “I’ll walk. I’ll resign from the Council, and I’ll tell anyone who listens why I resigned, if you don’t let Adam stay.”

“Nicole,” Mr. Scott began with a patient tone. “That is a threat, and a very immature one. I have to uphold the rules of the school. If I’m going to pick between following the rules consistently and breaking my own rules just so a few students don’t get upset, I’m going to go with the first option.”

“A few students? A few students?!” Nicole fumed. “Mr. Scott, you’ve never understood what I do for this school, what I’ve given to this school. I turned Council from a dying dumb popularity club into a machine that revitalizes the school from the inside out. I’ve been involved in basically every fundraiser, event, and initiative the school has taken on in the past two years. I am this school. Hell, I’ve made so much progress with the Rietmann hypothesis that the local paper gave not me, but your school, a spot on the front page more than once! Do you remember that?!”

“Nicole, we all know you’re smart, and a hard worker. We all know that no girl your age should even be able to explain what that Rietmann hypothesis even is, mostly because you keep reminding us.” The last few words of Mr. Scott’s sentence were soaked in venom. “But just because you are more smart, in some ways, than the other students here does not mean you are above the rules. You keep using your intelligence to assume that we are even equals you can bargain with. No matter how smart or involved you are, Nicole, you are and will continue to be a student of this school, and I am your principal. It is my job to be an authority here. I have more responsibilities, whether you choose to believe it or not. The students don’t run the school, no matter how involved they are. If you want to try to use your power to get your way, I’m all too happy to remind you that you have your power because I allow you to, and I can take it away from you very easily.” He paused. “You’re graduating soon. You ought to know just as much as I do that this school is going to survive without you being a part of it, and if you keep trying to interfere with school business for your own sake, you’re going to find out what this school looks like without you ‘leading’ it much sooner than you thought.”

Scott was staring daggers into Nicole’s eyes. I’d barely ever seen him angry, and he was furious. Nicole wasn’t backing down, and was eagerly yet stone-facedly staring back.

“Adam wasn’t in the wrong. The school is making the wrong decision,” she stated as if the facts were self-evident, which was funny considering she wasn’t even there. Who had she even heard from...? “I have much more sway with the student population and even the local community than you ever wanted to believe, and I ... I made a promise to serve the school, not to serve you. This is serving the school.”

“This is you having a tantrum,” Mr. Scott fired back. “If I can speak bluntly, this is why we try not to praise you too much for your aptitude or test results, Ms. Baker. It feeds into, quite frankly, an ego problem. And now you’re here, telling me what to do as if the Student Council President runs the whole school and the school’s principal just happens to go along with you. It’s a fantasy.”

“Ego problem? Please,” Nicole blew him off, rolling her eyes. “You just know that it’s easier to target me than prove my own VP was the victim and did nothing wrong.”

“All I know, Nicole, is that I have to make an incredibly difficult decision, and as soon as you heard about it, you marched right into my office and threatened to make my job more difficult if I didn’t go along with what you wanted. And...” He paused, knowing the sucker punch was coming. “ ... You talked more about your own accomplishments than what Adam and Jason did. You took something happening between two other students and, like so many other times, all you did was make it about you.”

Nicole’s chest was rising and falling, but she clearly had no comeback for that. “No,” she eventually said with a furious face, but didn’t find any more words to say.

“Yes,” Mr. Scott countered. “Sit down.” He turned to Mr. Salvador, who was standing near the both of them. They began to talk, but without them raising their voices, I couldn’t make out what they said. I watched Nicole run her hands through her hair and close her eyes, seemingly counting to ten in her head. She winced, then opened her eyes again, and quickly whipped out her phone, typing at lightning speed.

I felt my own phone buzz in my pocket. Three guesses who that could be. I took out my phone and saw the message from Nicole.

I heard all about this morning. It’s going to be okay. We’re going to get justice for you.

As much as I wanted to reply, seeing her in this state made me feel like replying may not have been the wisest move to make. I slipped my phone back into my pocket and watched Salvador and Scott talk for a bit. Unlike with Nicole, they clearly talked as equals, with Scott listening intently and Salvador “talking with his hands” a lot. I heard that using your hands too much when you talked in theater was the sign of an amateur. I smirked. C’mon, Salvador. Get with it.

I snuck away to the attendance office, delivering the paper while trying my best to face away from the secretary. “Attendance for dramatic arts, first period,” I reported.

The secretary took the paper and looked it over. “It’s incomplete,” she reported. “Salvador has nothing written for ... oh, for you, Adam.”

I turned towards the paper she held out to me, which made her wince. “Oh my God!” she instinctively cried out. Nearby, a student raised their head to look at us. “Gosh. Oh my gosh,” she corrected herself. “Are ... you okay?”

“You should see the other guy,” I quipped, then frowned. “Because he looks completely fine. He kept hitting me, he wouldn’t stop, so I hit him in self-defense, now we might both get expelled.”

“Oh my,” she replied, her voice full of concern. “That’s ... quite something. I’m sorry.” She looked at me inquisitively. “Shouldn’t you be in the principal’s office then?”

“Uh...” I fumbled. “Yeah, I’m just on my way back. I had to deliver the attendance, but...”

“I see,” she said with a nod. “That’s why he has nothing for you on the attendance. Either he wasn’t ready to deliver it and you misunderstood, or he forgot to account for you. Either way, take this back, then immediately, principal’s office. Do you understand, Adam?”

“I do,” I replied with a nod.

I turned around to leave, and saw Baseball Kid from history class sitting in a chair. He wasn’t wearing his baseball cap, and his brown hair was poofy and all over the place. He looked back at me and smiled. “I don’t think you’re in a good position to be staring at others, dude,” he told me in a chill voice.

“Oh, sorry,” I mumbled. He looked better with the dumb hat.

“All good,” he replied coolly, sitting back and closing his eyes. Maybe my face wasn’t as bad as I thought it was, if his reaction was anything to go by. Still, I kept my gaze low and my face hidden as I powerwalked back to the aud, shutting the door behind me.

When the students heard the door close, they quieted down, but then after a few seconds, started the murmur again. Clearly, Salvador wasn’t back yet. I waited for a few more minutes until the door opened, and Salvador walked inside. He looked at me for a little bit, then closed the door behind him. “You owe me big time,” he told me.

My heart soared. “I’m not getting expelled?”

“You’re not getting expelled, or suspended,” he confirmed. “Your parents will be getting a call, but the school is going to operate under the informed belief you acted in self-defense.”

I was elated, but couldn’t help but pause. “ ... And you just took my word for it? You weren’t even there,” I pointed out.

Salvador’s eyes danced. “I wasn’t ... but she was.”

He pointed behind me. I looked at where he was pointing and Zelda turned the corner to face us, smiling sheepishly.

“You...” I started. “You told him?”

“I saw the whole thing, Adam,” she pointed out, still smiling.

“You texted Nicole too, didn’t you?” I realized.

“That one probably hurt your case more than anything,” Salvador joked, his eyes sparkling with humor.

“And what’s going to happen to Jason?” I asked, turning back to him.

He waved a hand in front of him. “None of your concern,” he told me flatly, opening a bag he was carrying and rummaging through it. “But if you happen to see him, inside the school or not, don’t talk to him. In fact, try to avoid talking about what happened at all.”

“But aren’t people going to see me, see my face, and ask me what the hell happened?” I asked, still feeling like this was all some bad dream.

“That’s the beautiful thing...” Salvador thought out loud, pulling my half-face mask out of his bag and tossing it towards me. “ ... about masks, Adam.”

I barely caught the mask. “What is?” I asked, not getting it.

His eyes danced. “They cover your face,” he told me, the smallest of smiles evident on his face. “Now, put it on. Your group is the first one performing. You’d better do well.”

I must have looked like the biggest tryhard on the planet for keeping my mask on after our performance was done. I had to admit, it wasn’t our best work, but also, Savlador, my savior or not, gave us way too little time to make and rehearse it. It kind of hurt keeping the mask on – that’s the thing about being punched in the face – but it wasn’t like I needed to go to the hospital. I wasn’t a baby. I could take the pain.

It was clear from watching Salvador’s expression that he expected more from our performances today. His brow furrowed around halfway through the first performance, and never unfurrowed after that. He would give his classic non-response whenever any performance was finished – looking down at his papers, holding up a hand, and saying “Good,” in a disinterested, dismissing voice. I think at some point the class moved beyond a state of concern – we all just sort of were in the ‘fuck it’ phase. We all sucked. What could ya do?

Well, what Salvador could do was tell everyone calmly to get on stage and sit down in a circle because “we were going to have a chat.” All at once, we shifted from the ‘fuck it’ phase back to concerned. I was doubly concerned because there was no way in hell I was going to be able to wear the mask while that was happening.

Zelda ready my mind, with her hand going back to my shoulder sympathetically. “Maybe you can keep it on,” she reasoned.

I shook my head and sighed, deciding to rip off the bandaid in one go. Three, two, one ... and the mask was off. I was hoping it would be played off, but immediately, Hannah’s voice met my ears. “Oh my God, what happened to Adam?”

I sighed and looked down, shaking my head. Zelda, luckily, covered for me. “He had a bad morning, can you leave him alone please?”

“Um, I was just asking,” Hannah replied in a defensive, drama-kid voice.

“I didn’t ask you to get in a circle to talk about anyone’s face, thank you,” Salvador’s voice rang from behind us. I smirked – to anyone not knowing, that may have come across as insensitive, so only Zelda and I knew just how sensitive and kind he was being by saying that. After all, he basically just warned us all that we were going to get a stern talk. No one was going to disobey him now.

Sure enough, as soon as all of us were in the circle, Salvador opened with how the performances across the board were a disappointment. “I was really hoping at least one performance would stand out, and the bar was really low, so one group should have. But, to be honest, no. Not a single one did,” he told us bluntly. He looked around the circle. Some people met his gaze, and some people avoided it.

Nonetheless, he continued. “I was thinking about having the ninth grade students watch these performances to show something they can aspire to. Thank goodness I decided not to! I’d have to speak with them privately afterwards. The props were hastily added, the movements had no finesse, and every single action was like some ironic joke, as if doing them earnestly would be too dumb to consider. This is drama. You need to throw that kind of ego away when you enter the room. You all knew the expectations, you all knew the rubric, you all have the ability, so why did you think you could give it half of your effort and think I wouldn’t notice?”

Zelda, who of course was one of the few to meet Salvador’s gaze, cleared her throat. “Is that a rhetorical question or would you like us to try to answer?” she asked.

“I do want an answer, yes,” he replied, motioning to her. “Go.”

“Well, if you truly want my opinion, as in, unfiltered, I don’t think we were given enough time to properly prepare a show up to your standards. You can call it ego, but I think a lot of us were insecure on stage because we weren’t sure what we were doing. It wasn’t us all going, ‘ew, drama, gross,’ because if that’s how each and every one of us felt, it would be kind of silly of us to take a drama class, wouldn’t it?”

One of two mouths fell open at Zelda’s boldness.

“I think it’s normal for people to act like that when they’re not sure of themselves. And, I hope you’ll take this the right way, but if this is a problem we all have, it seems a little silly to conclude that all of us individually came to the conclusion that we don’t want to do drama well. There seems to be another reason for it.”

All eyes turned to Salvador, whose brow was furrowed, even though he was nodding along. “So you’re suggesting this is a communication problem?” he asked.

“Maybe,” she said with a shrug. “I know I wanted to ask for an extension. My whole team did.”

“I never heard about this,” Salvador replied. “Who else wanted to ask for an extension?”

Slowly, the whole circle raised their hands. Salvador looked around the circle. “Is that everybody?” he asked, his head moving back and forth. “So why didn’t I hear from anyone about this? You all seem to be comfortable communicating with me, so why was this an issue?”

No one said anything for a while. Eventually, I found myself speaking, even without opening my mouth. “I don’t think communication is a one-way street,” I began. “Like, there’s different kinds of communicating, you know? I might be able to talk to a new friend for an hour but never talk about my deepest secrets, but I might be able to talk to a psychiatrist about my deepest secrets but not want to talk for an hour.”

“Woah,” Hannah murmured. She looked impressed with my point. Was it deep or something? It didn’t feel deep. Maybe it was drama kid deep.

Salvador looked at me as I spoke, then looked around at the group. “I see. Unfortunately, if you need help and don’t tell me, I can’t just read your minds. In the future, if something is going wrong, you need to tell me. I don’t want to give all of you bad marks, so here’s what I’m going to do. This was your halfway point. I’m going to give you one and a half more weeks, but, I want you all to do two things in return.”

Students were already excitedly murmuring and breathing sighs of relief when Salvador revealed he was giving us more time and not giving us bad marks, so we were all eagerly listening for his stipulations.

“Number one, from now on, you need to communicate with me openly and honestly about how your projects are going. I can tell one or two of you won’t have a problem with this...” He not only shot me a look, but Zelda as well. “ ... But some of you might. You’ll need to work through it. Communicate with me as openly as you can. I won’t judge you or give you a poorer mark for being honest. I might point out when something is your fault, but that’s what growing up is. You have responsibilities. Number two, you’re going to put way more effort into everything in this presentation. Costumes, props, sound design, lighting if you feel it’s appropriate, but more than anything, believe in what you’re doing. I want to see the passion for what you’re making onstage. If I don’t believe what you’re doing, I will give you a worse mark the second time around. Do we understand each other?”