Transferring to a new school can be a new experience, especially when you're Vincent Florence. Going from public school to attending the most prestigious academy in the world proves to be a challenge to Vincent as he adjusts to a new environment.
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Vincent Florence
The moment the announcement went out, calling for my presence, I began to panic. It was as if I knew I was caught. So I hid away, and tried to see if anything was wrong. It wasn’t like there was an army here to take us away. Therefore, I should be fine…
Hence why I arrived late to the office.
All of us stood in front of the Headmistress' desk, with other men around the room. She looked up and her eyes pierced me.
“Vinny, I thought I told you I didn’t want you getting into any trouble.” She said to me. I lowered my head in guilt, remembering our conversation from the day I got my early Harvard acceptance.
I simply didn’t say anything, just looked at the shag carpet below me.
“I called you all in here regarding a certain investigation that has been ongoing.” She stood up from her seat and walked in front of her desk, sitting on it. “I’m sure you all know what’s been going on, in light of a recent exposé.”
All of us didn’t reply, just nodded our heads. We felt like children who were caught trying to break open the teacher’s candy jar.
“As you know, the Department of Justice, along with other governmental departments, have been working to track down where these leaked information came from and who leaked them. So imagine my surprise when a friend from the DoJ calls me and tells me that the origin of the exposé came from this very ground.” Headmistress Clemont explained.
She turned to us and watched our expression. We had prepared for something like this and made sure we kept our composure and put on a poker face. I wasn’t sure if our disguise was working, but she didn’t seem to detect anything.
“Excuse me, ma’am.” I said, raising my hand.
“Yes, Mr. Florence.” The Headmistress said.
“So why are we here? Did the tracking specifically say it was us or is this just a witch hunt?” I asked.
“Good question.” She said. “I don’t have definitive proof, but something tells me that you all have a part in this.”
“So the basis of your accusation is based on what, vibes?” I asked. Tavia covered her mouth and let out a small chortle.
“You seem to be defending yourself and your friends a lot, Vincent. Could this be a guilty conscience that is outweighing you?”
“If you were placed on the stand and accused of a heinous crime, wouldn’t you pull out every card and defense you have?” I asked back.
“Very well.” She said. She reached behind her, on her desk, and pulled out a few papers. “Before you’re let go, please sign these papers.” She said.
