The Principal

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On his way out to the path around the football field and to his secret lunch spot behind the baseball field, he passed by the student parking lot. In the center of the lot sat Alastair, in the driver's seat of a brand new 1995 yellow Mustang. Brady and Tom were standing nearby, talking with Alastair through his open window. Castiel assumed they were congratulating him on his ride.

Castiel kept walking, but stopped when he saw Dean come out of a side door. He headed over to a large black car Castiel immediately recognized as the classic Chevrolet owned by the new tenant in his apartment complex. So Dean was his neighbor as well. He probably never saw him driving the Chevy because by the time Castiel's bus got to the end of its route, Dean had already driven home, and on the days Dean had late baseball practice after school, Castiel was home eating dinner.

Alastair ushered Dean over, obviously taking pride in showing off his brand new car. Castiel couldn't hear everything they were saying, but Alastair lifted the Mustang's hood and in between snippets of "She's gorgeous" and "Look at that engine," he could see Dean shrug and nod.

Castiel had almost cleared the lot when he was stopped by the school principal, Mr. Murphy.

"Mr. Agnes, we need to speak about the incident in the hall yesterday."

"It's 'Agnus,' sir."

"Right, of course. One of your teachers informed me about what happened, but she has a reputation for being a little dramatic."

Castiel guessed Ms. Milton was the one he was referring to. He couldn't be mad at her; no doubt she had an obligation to report something like that when it happened. He didn't consider Ms. Milton dramatic, however. She was one of the most level-headed people he had ever met.

"Like her, you seem to be blowing this incident out of proportion. Just because you tripped and fell does not give you the right to use vulgar language inside school grounds — especially not in the middle of the hallway where others can hear you."

"But I didn't simply trip and fall. I was — "

He prevented himself from explaining further when he saw that Alastair had stopped talking to Dean and was now turned his way. He knew Alastair couldn't hear all of what was being said, but his undivided attention was warning enough.

"I mean, I was...uh, yes, sir. I apologize for using that language."

"I know you've had trouble at school before, correct?"

"Yes, both freshman and sophomore years."

Castiel tried to resist the urge to roll his eyes at a man for whom he had little respect. He and his mother had been in numerous conferences with Murphy, but neither he nor the rest of his staff did what they were supposed to do to help Castiel. To them he was a complainer who couldn't handle the rigors of high school. Nothing his mother could do to convince them otherwise worked. And to top it off, Murphy couldn't even remember his correct name.

"I'm not inclined to pursue this further, Mr. Agnes, as long as we don't have another one of these outbursts from you, is that understood?"

Castiel glanced over and caught Alastair's eye.

"Yes," he mumbled, "thank you, sir."

Mr. Murphy patted his shoulder and gave him a fake smile. "Good, Agnes. Enjoy the rest of your day."

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