The Only Thing He Left Me

THREE DAYS BEFORE THE DISAPPEARANCE

If there's any place in the school right now that's calm and peaceful, it's definitely not the hallway.

I stood in front of my locker, my fingers gripping tightly to the key while its cold surface engaged in hostilities with my scorching palm. It had only been a couple of hours since the class started but it seemed more like it was over. Students flooding the corridors. Locker doors whimpering in unison. Footsteps clattering. Words buzzing out of everyone's mouths talking about only the same thing. Principal Hemmings' departure.

Even up until now, I still found it hard to believe that the rumors were true. That he was a pedophile. A child-groomer. A rapist. A fucking opportunist using his wealth and power to lure a poor sixteen years old girl into his house and command her to do whatever he wanted her to do in exchange for money. However, despite everyone believing that he was completely evil, there was still a part of me that doubted all of these accusations.

I knew the principal. Not really well, yes, but I had a few encounters with him wherein I saw how generous and kind and understanding he was. I was there when he treated a group of students with ice cream while they were waiting for the school bus to send them back home. I was there when he hushed a weeping toddler outside the church one Sunday morning because his balloon rose to the sky. I was there when he helped an old woman cross the busy streets of Firm Creek's Central City. I was there when he warned a teacher for shouting foul words right in front of our faces only because we failed to clean our area of responsibility. Out of all those encounters, I never got to see him do anything bad. He was such a ball of sunshine. He lit up pretty much everything that he passed by. So, if anyone had to ask me if I believe in the rumor spreading like wildfire in school, I might probably shake my head and say no.

I won't be the only person to do that, though. Jackson Crest would surely do the same. The article that he wrote and published through The Firmcreek Gazette's official Facebook page could tell so much about why he thought Principal Hemmings was innocent. Why he believed the Principal had every right to love the girl even though she was only sixteen- a minor.

He literally laid down some bullets as evidence to back up his side. However, it was a bad decision. He could've just kept his opinion to himself. He could've just stayed silent and minded his own business.

But I guess it was really a part of his job to choose which side to go in every case. Seemed like neutrality was never in his vocabulary. And threats? Dangers? Hateful and mean comments? I bet that's what he ate for today's breakfast.

I glanced at the corridor and the number of people never decreased. As a matter of fact, it even multiplied. I stared closely at the key that I stabbed through the hole, feeling my numb fingers almost losing their grip. I refrained from making any movements and kept staring at the thing before me like it was my greatest enemy.

And then a snappy, heavy hand slapped my shoulders. "You've been in the same position for like literally five minutes already. What? Are you planning to open that shit or not?" Daryll James said, his mouth drooling over the burrito he held in his hand.

He moved closer to me, making his bloated belly bump against my elbow which caused the key to slip off my fingers.

"God, Daryll, can't you be more careful?" I said as I bent down to pick up the key.

Right before I could even reach it, a pair of white sneakers with pink laces accidentally kicked it far. It went all the way to the center of the corridor. I followed it with my eyes. I brushed my way through the crowd, cautious enough not to step on some feet. When I had it locked in my eyes, I took one big leap past the two guys talking to each other.

I stumbled down. Fuck. But at least I had the key. Still, fuck again.

Too embarrassed to look up, I crawled forward. People in the corridors started yelling. Although they had been doing it since as earlier as I can remember, the fact that the noise grew twice as louder than it was could tell so much about how I just transitioned from being the invisible, unnoticeable guy around to being everyone's laughing stock. I tried to hide my face, although impossible and crawled forward. I only stopped when a pair of black, polished leather shoes appeared before me.

I looked up and knelt. "Principal Hemmings!"

This had been the nearest that I ever got to him, and his detailed and picture-perfect mustache became the first thing to catch my attention. Not the tears behind his fogged eyeglasses, nor the pale lips that parted from each other. Not the folders and books on his chest, nor the age-old broken watch on his left wrist.

Principal Hemmings shot me a sharp, narrow gaze. Like a bullet coming off a gun. "Out of the way!" he yelled as he kicked me by the head, knocking me back to the floor.

The heel of his shoe whacked against my skull. I felt it. A solid, hard, and strong hit. It could have discombobulated me.

Or MaYbe iT DiD.

MaYbE It dId.

iT DiD.

DEaD.