Apollo darted his eyes away from Raquel and Soraya as he passed them by their lockers. He could only imagine the amount of shit they were going to talk about once they caught wind of what happened in the cafeteria—especially since they, too, were best friends with Cassandra. Apollo could already see the hashtag womanbeater along with his name trending online after today’s incident.

Just my luck. He sighed

Apollo stumbled into the office and sat in front of the secretary’s desk, placing his backpack on the vacant chair beside him. He rested against the wall and folded his hands over his head, awaiting his punishment. He shouldn’t have even been here right now. All of this could’ve been avoided had Cassandra kept her stupid mouth shut. Perhaps where he went wrong was not heading to the library after finishing his sandwiches and apple slices.

It seemed that consequences needed to be paid whenever he tried defending himself. Apollo furrowed his brows. Simply thinking about the situation flared his nostrils, but instead of causing a stink, cursing, and tossing things around, he remained quiet. The milk had already been spilled.

A few minutes later, Mrs. Cunningham opened the door, ordering him to follow her.

“Back again?” the secretary asked. Her wireless headset was fixed around her head as her fingers pushed down on the keyboard.

“Yeah,” Mrs. Cunningham said, contempt heard in her voice. How many times did she practice that tone in the mirror? It sounded awfully rehearsed. “Some things just never change.”

Like the dirty panties you wear to school every day, you cantankerous prick. Apollo exchanged glances with the secretary, picking up a look of condescension on her behalf. Mrs. Cunningham stood in front of Mr. Walters’ private office and knocked softly, his voice booming through the closed door. 

“Come in!” he said, returning to his previous rumblings. Mrs. Cunningham closed the door silently after they entered, Apollo taking a seat on one of the chairs in front of his desk. Mr. Walters pierced a displeasing look at him, narrowing his eyes. Was he supposed to ask for permission before sitting down?

Apollo shifted his attention toward the window behind him and watched the sun mockingly flood the room with brightness, its rays a contrasting irony to the grimness of the situation. He almost smiled at the universe’s attempt to troll him.

“I understand that, Charles, but the situation must be taken care of immediately. You guys had plenty of time to discuss the objectives and plan accordingly. I will not tolerate any delays,” Mr. Walters said, swaying casually in his chair, the light on his earpiece flashing blue.

By the tone of his voice, Apollo could tell an aura of superiority exuded him as his chestnut eyes glimmered across the room. Even with how he sat on his leather chair, he probably felt like a king on his throne: his back straight, chin up in the air, arms relaxed.

Mr. Walters looked at Mrs. Cunningham and rolled his eyes, pointing to his earpiece. “Listen, I have a meeting to attend. Just make sure those files are on my desk by tomorrow morning.” He removed the earpiece from his ears and shoved it on the table. “Incompetent fool,” he said, staring at it distastefully.  

“The fun just never ends,” Mrs. Cunningham said, brushing her hair back. It wouldn’t have come as a surprise if the two had an affair with how she smoothed her blouse. Unfaithful wretch.

“It comes with the territory,” Mr. Walters replied, placing some folders into his drawer. “What can I do for you this morning?”   

“I've brought in a guest.” She gestured toward Apollo.

“Sit up, young man,” Mr. Walters demanded as Apollo reluctantly readjusted in his seat. “And what's the situation with this gentleman?”

Apollo felt Mrs. Cunningham’s eyes on him. “Well?” she said. “Would you like to go first, or shall I begin?”

Mr. Walters shot another fierce look at Apollo. “Based on your reaction, it seems there’s been a myriad of problems with this young man.”

Mrs. Cunningham nodded her head. “Apparently, he shoved a girl against the wall in the cafeteria.”

“Oh!” Mr. Walters said as he sat back in his chair. “We've got a hostile one on our hands. What else?”

“I think it's best if he explains why he's here,” Mrs. Cunningham said.

“Young man, what is your name?” Mr. Walters stood up and adjusted the blinds to his office. Now, the room was dark, which, to be honest, was a lot more fitting for the situation at hand.

“Apollo,” he mumbled, looking down at the floor.

“I can’t hear you.” He returned to his throne.

“Apollo,” he repeated, still looking at the floor.

“My eyes are up here.” Mr. Walters pointed to the glaciers forming in them. “What are you doing in my office?”

Apollo shrugged, unwilling to muster up an explanation that would’ve sounded believable. It’s best to take your L and move on in times like these.        

“You have a voice. Use it!” Mr. Walters curled his lip.

“I don't know,” Apollo said.

Mrs. Cunningham sighed. “You’re lying. Explain to him what happened inside the cafeteria.”

“Look bro, if you’re going to suspend me, just hurry up and do it so I can go about my business.” Apollo dropped his head back toward the floor.

“I find your attitude quite appalling,” Mr. Walters said.

“I find your breath quite appalling,” Apollo responded.

“Hmpf!” Mr. Walters’ face turned pink.

“This is what I have to put up with every time he’s in my classroom,” Mrs. Cunningham said.

An exaggeration. There must’ve been some rulebook that stated if there were students teachers despised, they must exaggerate any incidents that occur between the teacher and the student being disciplined.

 “Start from the beginning and explain to me what happened between you and that other student.” Mr. Walters leaned forward and folded his hands together.

“I wanted to read my comic book. She wouldn’t let me read my comic book. We exchanged some words, and then she tried to attack me. I defended myself. The end.”

Silence fell over the room as Mr. Walters looked at him, expecting him to say more. “You’re bit of a smartass, aren’t you?”

“It’s a lot better than being a dumbass, a lie?” Apollo shrugged.

Mr. Walters slowly shifted his eyes toward Mrs. Cunningham, who looked clueless while sitting in her chair. What was she even doing here in the first place? 

“It seems to me you have a problem controlling your temper,” Mr. Walters said. “Are you angry? Is that your problem?” He had the fakest look of concern in his eyes Apollo had ever seen.

“What, so now you’re trying to psychologize me?”

“You shoved a girl half your size against the wall, causing the back of her head to bleed,” Mrs. Cunningham said. “That’s what happened. If you’re going to explain something, the least you can do is tell the full story.”

“How would you know? You weren’t even there.” Apollo looked at her side-eyed.

“There were plenty of witnesses who saw you do it. Don’t get smart with me!” Mrs. Cunningham twisted her lip into an angry frown. “Head trauma is a very serious issue. For you to sit there as if you haven’t got a care in the world says a lot about the type of person you are.” 

Apollo nearly gagged at the comment. If only you knew the things she said before I shoved her, perhaps you’d be singing a different tune. “You’re right,” he said, pushing his spectacles back up to his eyes. “I apologize for what I did. It won’t happen again.”  

Mr. Walters shot a look at him as if he were trying to figure out his thoughts. “That’s all you’ve got to say?”

Apollo looked at him and shrugged. “What else you want me to say?”

“You’re awfully short on compassion, aren’t you?” Mrs. Cunningham cut in just as Mr. Walters was about to open his mouth. “You're something else, you know that?”

“Just hurry up and write me my suspension papers so I can get out of here.” Apollo sat up on his chair, bouncing his feet on the floor. “I’ve got better things to do with my time than to listen to you two bozos talk about how heartless I am.”

“Aye! Watch the name calling and take the bass out of your voice,” Mr. Walters warned, eyes wrinkling. “I don’t think you realize who you’re speaking to.”

“Obviously I don't, so please enlighten me.”

“Apollo!” Mrs. Cunningham called. “Watch your manners in front of the principal!”

Mr. Walters leaned forward. “You listen here, for I will say this only once. In this world, you’d better learn how to respect your superiors, or one day you’ll end up being extremely sorry. Do you understand?”

“My superiors?” Apollo raised his eyebrows. “And who might that be, you?”

Mr. Walters’ eyes twitched. What sort of message was he trying to convey if all of his students were deemed inferior? What kind of principal was that? You’d swear this man was running a dictatorship.

Mr. Walters looked to Mrs. Cunningham. “Call his guardian and notify them he is not to be seen on school property for ten days. I'll print out a copy of the form and give to you, and I'll document the original into his files.” That’s basically two weeks off school. Perhaps I should be thanking Cassandra after all. Mr. Walters handed over the papers along with his pen and ordered him to sign on the bottom. “I’m suspending you from this institution for causing serious bodily harm toward another student, a failure to recognize your wrongdoing, and for that horrendous attitude of yours.” He stuck his head out and curled his lip. “And the next time I see you in my office, I'll expel you from attending Sauga Valley Secondary School.”

Apollo shifted from one of his eyes to the next before reluctantly inking his name, sliding the document over to that unfaithful sleaze ball sitting next to him. Mr. Walters photocopied the document and handed it to Apollo before taking another poisonous glance in his direction. “One more thing,” he said, “because of your lack of concern for your peers, you are no longer eligible to attend Sauga Valley Secondary School’s end of the year dance.” Mr. Walters sat back in his chair and ordered him to leave.

About time. Never cared about that stupid-ass dance anyway. Apollo couldn’t have gotten up faster, grabbing his backpack and heading for the exit outside. He held off on pulling out his MP3 player and headphones, watching Tyron, Bishop, and two more of Odion’s friends head in his direction from one of the portables. Here comes trouble. Apollo immediately zipped up his backpack and threw it over his shoulders.

“Hold up, hold up, hold up,” Tyron said to the camera in his hand. “In the comment section below, rate on a scale of one to ten how goofy this nigga looks right now.” He laughed and pointed the lens at Apollo. “This is what happens when your mama abandons you. Look at him y’all.” Tyron turned the camera back to himself. “Don’t do drugs, or else you’ll end up looking like him.” He pointed his finger to the lens as if teaching a valuable lesson. “Anyway, I’m ’bout to head inside, so I’ll see y’all in the next clip.” He shoved his hand into the camera lens before turning it off.  

Apollo squeezed the straps of his backpack as a piercing rumble tugged at his stomach, similar to the one he had just before those two police cars tumbled and exploded on the street. It was baffling to see how someone with the body of an elephant and face of a donkey be so comfortable in front of a camera. “Tyron,” he called, “don’t be calling me no ‘nigga’ for your entertainment.” He looked him square in his beady brown eyes. “And the next time you mention anything about my Ma, I’ll kill you.”   

Tyron looked him up and down, shoving his camera into Bishop’s hands. “Do sum then, nigga!” He shrugged off his backpack and tucked the gold chain he stole from Tracy underneath his shirt, shoving Apollo hard toward the ground. Apollo stuck his arm out to break his fall, fortunately landing on his backpack, softening the impact.

 “C’mon, that’s enough,” Bishop said, using his long arms to pull Tyron back. “It ain’t that serious. Leave it alone.”

“Do sum,” Tyron said, trying to force his way past Bishop’s tall, wide frame. “You wanna kill me, eh! Do sum then! Do sum nigga!”

Apollo gritted his teeth at the sharp, stinging pain shooting to the sides of his temple. He grimaced as he slowly rose to his feet, head throbbing like he’d been whacked with a piece of lumber. If Tyron and his friends knew what was good for them, they had better leave before something disastrous happened.

“Calm down, man, damn,” Bishop said, trying to force Tyron inside as he continued to act up.

“That’s what I thought, pussy!” Tyron flipped both middle fingers in Apollo’s direction as he was dragged inside. “Fuck you and your mama, bitch!”  

Apollo stormed through the double doors. Just as he was about to tackle Tyron to the ground, Mr. Walters and Mrs. Cunningham turned the corner.

“Get out of here!” Mr. Walters shouted from the end of the hall. “Don’t make me have to call the police on you.” Apollo watched Tyron stick out his tongue and flip him the finger again before escaping inside the cafeteria. “You’ve got three seconds,” Mr. Walters declared. “One, two, thr—”

Apollo turned around and headed back outside, teeth firmly locked together. Tyron should’ve been thankful Mr. Walters was there to save his ass, or else he would’ve ended up like those two police officers yesterday.

Dead.

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