Suffocate

Chapter 15

Seeing Mr. Kenley so early in the morning is not a sight anyone wants to see. His scruffy beard distracts me from his cold, piercing gaze. We're in his office with Kenley sitting forward, hands locked together on his desk. I'm sitting in one of the shiny leather chairs with my sagging backpack leaning against my leg on the floor.

"I don't understand you," Kenley finally says. I've been in his office since seven this morning; it's now seven-forty-five. He had called, personally, a few days ago, saying he wanted to meet with me Monday morning and "have a word". I really don't know what he wants from me, so I shrug at him.

"I don't get what you mean, Sir," I say, bored. Kenley laughs at me.

"You know exactly what the hell I mean, boy." I clench my jaw in irritation, gradually forcing myself to just relax.

"Principal Kenley," I start after a moment. Kenley barks out a deep huff of laughter. The loud noise shuts me up immediately. I jolt as the sound reverberates in the room.

"What's the point in calling me 'principal' if you're barely a student at this school?" the man asks snidely. "I want to know why you are the most inconsistent student there is!" Kenley proceeds to pull out a large folder I bet he's been waiting to show me. He taps it—more like slams against it—with two fingers. "You see this, Hayden?"

I exaggerate my expression by raising my eyebrows high while glancing at the folder. I nod in acknowledgment. "It's a folder." Kenley deadpans at me. He shakes his head; he's definitely sick of me.

"No shit, smartass." Kenley opens the manila folder and pulls out a few papers, while making sure the other papers aren't disorganized. "These papers here list the accounts you've had in your past schools. Seems like you've got a violent history." Kenley holds up one paper. "Your freshman year here, you were in fights not only held amongst students here at this school, but kids from other schools, as well." Kenley pulls out a purple-colored paper. "Your mother had written an apology letter and pleaded to not only not expel you, but to let you join the wrestling team to deal with your . . . anger issues."

I remember that time. I came home all bruised and beat to hell. Once my mom saw me, a fury burned in her silver eyes. Not only did she beat me for getting into another fight, she got a call from the school an hour later warning her about my soon expulsion if I were to continue my behavior. Mom had pulled me into her room and sat me down next to her while she wrote an apology letter. She yelled at me, saying that if I was going to fight, I could fight by the rules. If I didn't, she'd kick me out of the house. She even said she'd find my father and send me to him so he could straighten me out. I wasn't gonna have that.

Kenley sighs. "That poor woman," he mutters under his breath. I narrow my eyes at him.

"Excuse me?"

Kenley ignores me, looking back at the papers in his hand.

"I notice your wild behavior lessened throughout the years. But, your attendance is so transparent, this sheet here is almost, completely blank." He wiggles the paper until it falls from his hands and onto the desk. Kenley sits back in his chair and folds his hands over his belly. "What I really want to know, is why? You haven't given anyone a clear reason as to why you are so all over the place. You think you can get away with showing up to school once in a blue moon? You never hand in a doctor's note, so you're not sick. You don't go to class on time, you never have your homework complete . . . Why haven't you quit school already?" Kenley asks bluntly.

That's the question of the fuckin' year. I sigh, looking down to my hands in my lap. Kenley coughs disgustingly into his hands, clearing his throat.

"Tell me," he says, "What is your home situation like?"