1st 5 Pages May Workshop- Wyatt

Name: Paige Wyatt

Genre: Young Adult Contemporary

Title: Never, Sometimes

I’m sitting in the principal’s office because Brendan White used my wristband full of safety pins to beat the shit out of Connor Easton under the bleachers. It’s all some arbitrary, double standard bullshit. Principal McKay is only out for blood because tomorrow is the first night of football regionals and Connor is the star quarterback who now, thanks to Brendan, has three broken fingers on his throwing hand.

The secretary is typing so hard I’m sure she’s about to break a nail. She looks at me every few minutes through her cat-eye glasses and sighs like I’m another mess to clean up. This is common treatment for me. People take a look at my black clothes and pink hair and nose ring and assume I’m a juvenile delinquent. The next time she does it I’m going to smile and wave. Maybe I’ll freak her out enough to make her stop. 

Principal McKay steps out of his office and clears his throat. He’s tall and round and bald and boring. I try to give most teachers a chance, but he’s a slimey con artist, like he’ll tell me anything to get me to believe he’s a decent human being. “Miss Pennington.” He sounds like a dad who’s not mad but disappointed in you. “Step into my office please.”

I walk into the large room where he conducts important business that keeps Middletown North High School running like a broken down machine. He has certificates and photographs and pennants hanging too neatly on the wall, and the furniture is faux leather that’s supposed to look expensive and classy but just comes off as a sad attempt at Walmart chic. 

I sit in one of the pleather chairs opposite his desk and he sits, too. “I’m only going to ask you one question and I want you to be honest.”

A smartass reply is ready to tumble out but I bite it back. “Yes sir,” I say, not caring if it sounds sarcastic.

“Did you supply Brendan White with a weapon?” he asks as he, and I shit you not, folds his hands neatly on desk and hunches forward like he’s Mr. Burns from the Simpsons. 

“Weapon?” When in doubt, play dumb.

He tosses a plastic bag onto his desk in disgust, and as I examine it, I can see why. Sealed inside is my wristband. The safety pins that were once clasped closed are open and there are chunks of bloody flesh on their sharp tips. My face is expressionless. “I have no idea what that is.”

“Several students and teachers confirmed that this is your wristband.”

I shrug. “I swear it’s not mine.”

“Are you sure?” His salt and pepper mustache twitches as his eyes bore into me. 

“Absolutely.”

His face is flushed because he knows he can’t prove anything. “Fiona, you’re a bright young lady. Top of your class. Taking all honors classes.” He sighs and it’s unnecessarily loud. “I’d hate to see you fall in with a bad crowd and ruin your potential.”

“Bad crowd?” Wow. He’s pulling out every cliche in his boring-ass, save the children arsenal. I know he’s referring to Lily, Thrasher, AJ, and Brendan, but I don’t want him to know I understand what he’s saying because somehow that would feel like I’ve lost this battle.

“Why don’t you join the basketball team? You used to play, didn’t you?” he asks.

“I don’t like basketball anymore.”

“Then join the drama club, or the mathletes.”

“Mathletes?” I echo, trying to stifle a laugh.

“Do something to keep yourself out of trouble, young lady.” He leans in to give this impression that he’s about to tell me something no one else knows, but I can see through this act. Every adult I know has tried this on me at least once, but I can spot the disingenuity like a turd in a punch bowl. “I’m only telling you this because I care. Those kids will get you into trouble and they won’t care what happens to you.”

I just want to leave. “You’re right, sir. I’m thinking of trying out for the softball team.”

He smiles. “I’ll email the coach and put in a good word for you.”

I fight the urge to tell him to shove his recommendation up his ass. “Can I go back to class now?”

He writes me a pass and I’m out of the office before he can say anything else. When I close the door, Lily is waiting on the other side. She should be in Geometry too, but of course she’s waiting for me because that’s what best friends do. “So what did McKay want?”

I fall into step beside her. “He just asked about the wristband. I played dumb.”

“Good. You can’t get expelled, too.”

“Expelled?” I stop so fast she almost crashes into me.

She leans in toward me and her rainbow braids fall over her shoulders. “They’re expelling Brendan this time.”

Expelled means I won’t see Brendan on my way to English class, or stare at him in Geometry, or sit next to him at lunch and pretend I don’t notice our legs touching under the table. “Who told you that?”

“Thrasher said he’s out ten days and then they’ll decide if he’s out forever,” she explains as I try to compose myself.

“Have you talked to Brendan?”

She looks down at her phone. “He hasn’t replied.”

“Damn.” I kick a locker so hard my toe aches. 

She squeezes my shoulder. “Come on. We’re already late thanks to McKay’s inquisition.” I follow her because the one thing I can control today is my A in Geometry. 

When we get there, Landon Easton, Connor’s younger cousin, stares at me like I’m some alien. I learned a long time ago not to back down with people like him, so I stare back. Landon looks away first. Good. Today has been a shitshow, and I don’t need him to make it worse.

After class I’m headed out the door and thinking of texting Brendan when someone taps me on the back. I stop short and almost knock Landon over. He looks ridiculous with his Captain America haircut and letterman’s jacket. “Hey,” he says.

I haven’t spoken to Landon since middle school. Our last conversation involved me screaming at him about how we weren’t friends anymore. “What?”

He holds up a pencil. “You dropped this.”

I snatch it out of his hand as his cousin Evan rounds the corner. Evan is shaped like a gorilla except I’m pretty sure any gorilla is smarter than he is. You’d think with all their money, the Eastons could buy him a brain. “What’d your boyfriend do to my brother, hambeast?”

I don’t dare show how much the insult stings. “Jesus Evan, all you got are fat jokes?”

Evan’s jaw clenches and he steps closer. “You better watch your back, bitch. We’re coming for you.”

Landon inserts himself between us, which stops Evan because Landon is tall. Last year he was the only freshman to make the varsity basketball team. “Hey,” he says. “Let’s go.” Landon keeps his hands on his cousin’s shoulders as they walk away. 

As much as I hate to admit it, Evan’s threat rattles me. It’s impossible to concentrate on anything for the rest of the day, and after school I sense there are more eyes on me than normal. Maybe they will kill us all.