Dust District

Chapter 3 - Parker

12:57.

It's barely past noon and we've already landed ourselves in the Dean's office. That has to be some kind of record. Dean Walters thought it would be a good idea for Reggie to go and make sure there weren't any serious burns from the soup thrown at him. So I've been in here for about 20 minutes with Dean Walters waiting in silence for Reggie to return from the infirmary. The Dean seemed to pay no mind to me. For the past 20 minutes he's been typing away on his computer and answering calls like I'm not even here. I don't know why I'm here. I know we messed up letting our emotions get the best of us, but we didn't start this fight. We were attacked. If anyone should be in this office it should be Thomas and Chase. Maybe the Dean is taking care of it privately. Maybe he wants to hear our side before deciding what punishments to give them.

After a few more moments of silence, Reggie finally walks it with a bandage around his hand. He had managed to block some of the soup with his hands before it hit his face but I guess that resulted in some minor burns. He looks at me and scoffs, mumbling underneath his breath. I guess he thought there'd be more people in here. Reggie slumps down in the chair next to me, with his elbow to the armrest and his good hand to the slight vein popping out of his forehead. He looks to the wall beside him and takes a deep breath. I feel awful. Dean Walters better have a plan for Thomas and Chase. Expulsion. Jail. I don't care, but they don't get to do this to Reggie and get away with it. Is that how it works on this side? If so, maybe we should just go home. Maybe White Oak was a mistake.

"Why are we the only ones here? We didn't start it," I say, turning to the Dean.

Dean Walters sighed heavily, not looking away from his computer. "You know why I brought you to this school."

"I don't know, charity? A tax write off?" Says Reggie.

The dean fixed him with a stern look. He turns away from his laptop and gives us his full attention.

"I believe in investing in people, not just their achievements. When I was in that alleyway, scared for my life, you two jumped in and saved me. A spoiled man you had never met." The dean pauses for a second. "I love all of my students, but I'd be native to ignore the fact that not many of them would have done what you two did that night. Not even a few."

I know a few of the students at White Oak are...difficult, but it's hard to imagine them walking away from someone in need. Surely, the dean is exaggerating. If push came to shove, I think they would do the right thing. They just don't know it yet.

"I need students like you, to bring benevolence and compassion back to this school." The dean continued, his eyes softening. "I need students like you to set an example, to show the rest of the school what it means to be a true leader. To put being good over being great."

I didn't know what to make of this. It's like being the chosen one, the knight that pulls the sword from the stone.

"That's kind of a tall order, Mr. Walters," I say.

The dean smiled. "I know. And I know I picked the right men for the job," he said. "Now, clean up and get to class."

Well, at least we didn't get expelled. Reggie and I head to the in-house dry cleaners to drop off our stained clothes and pick up some new uniforms. We walked in silence, contemplating the hero's quest we were just given. Usually I'd be up for the task, no questions asked, but the culture here runs much deeper than just White Oak Prep. It's decades old and consumes every part of the city. Reggie doesn't seem too onboard. He doubts that the students would be willing to change their ways, doubts he can be the one to change them, and doubts it will have any long lasting effect on the greater good. Maybe this is where change needs to start though. I believe everyone, even the richest of kids, have the potential to change if given the right opportunity. More importantly, everyone deserves the right to change. Who knows, maybe planting a seed here at White Oak is the first step to killing the prejudicial air that engulfs our city.