Despite the Pain

Chapter 19

Albion

"Mr. Bryson. Ethan," Principal Hale held open the door to his office, nodding to me and my father respectively. I wanted nothing to do with this meeting, even if it was getting me out of math class for the day. I stood from my wheelchair, crossing the hall, my hand shooting out to the door frame as soon it was in reach. I had been trying to become less dependent on it over the past week. I wanted to be rid of it entirely, but I had a ways to go before that would be possible. The principal stood back as my father and I entered the room, closing the door as we sat down in front of his desk.

"I appreciate this, Dean," Dad said as the principal stepped around his desk to sit down.

"Not a problem," he waved his hand dismissively. "I think this is long overdue. And given the plan we're attempting to put into action here it's certainly unavoidable."

Dad reached over and squeezed my knee. I had been to exactly one of these meetings, and that was before I'd even started school. Principal Hale was a tall, intimidating man who seemed to believe smiling would result in his untimely death. At that meeting we had discussed the courses I'd be taking and the progression to full school days. It was going slower than we'd discussed then. My recovery was going slower than we'd expected. It was hard to push that out of my head.

"You've been doing well," Mr. Hale began, flipping open the folder on his desk and passing a few pieces of paper from it to my father. "I know there's less to draw on for your average with no tests as of yet, but you've managed to improve a bit from last year's GPA." I leaned toward my father to look at the pages in his hand; listings of my grades. They'd gotten better because Dawn all but did the assignments for me. I had never been a very good student on my own.

Dad nudged me me with his elbow, smiling when I looked up at him before handing the papers to me.

"Now, what's unfortunate is that you've missed a great deal," Mr. Hale pulled out a packet of papers, laying them on the edge of his desk in front of me. "I understand you've been working with a classmate, but this may be a bit beyond what she can help you with. I've spoken with a few of your teachers who are more than willing to help in that area." He tapped the pages on the edge of his desk. "Take that home, they list the lessons covered. You should be able to put together what you're missing. The exams will cover the entire year. You do have quite a bit of work to do to fill in the gaps."

"Okay," I said, setting down the pages in my hand and picking up the packet on the edge of the desk. It contained a syllabus for each of my classes that looked intimidating enough on their own, let alone together.

"So you understand the expectations there?" Mr. Hale asked. I nodded, handing the packet to my father. He raised his eyebrows.

"I swear this has gotten worse," he said, shaking his head as he flipped through the pages.

"The syllabus hasn't changed in 45 years, Ethan," Mr. Hale chuckled. "I promise you it was the same for us."

"Must have just forgotten more than I thought I did," Dad smirked, passing the packet back to me.

"Now, I understand this isn't the only concern either of you have," Hale continued, leaning back in his seat. "We're aware of the trouble that has been going on with your classmates, Mr. Bryson."

"Then why haven't you done anything?" my father snapped, straightening in his chair. Principal Hale cocked an eyebrow, shifting his attention from me to my father. Dad cleared his throat, muttering an apology and leaning back again.

"Unfortunately, without actually catching the aggressors in the act, we're unable to take any official disciplinary action," Mr. Hale folded his hands in his lap. "Of course, that doesn't mean we can't turn a blind eye to the occasional retaliation as well." I looked up at him, wondering if that meant what I thought it did; that they'd purposefully ignored Dawn's stunt of punching Miles. A faint smirk twitched across Mr. Hale's face. "Just don't push it."