The Rhodes Method

one

They will blame us, crucify and shame us
We can't help it if we are a problem
We are tryin' hard to get your attention
I'm climbin' up your wall
Climbin' up your wall
--- The Adults Are Talking, The Strokes

OCTAVIA RHODES

My eyes meet the bruising eyes of the boy I just punched, and I really can't help but frown.

The downward movement of my lips is not caused by the awareness of what I've done, or who I've done this to — because let's be real here, I don't even know the guy's name — but rather because my mind has been hit with the sudden realization of the consequences of my actions. I too have been punched in the face with the understanding that I'm probably not going to get out of this one easily, even though I've been on my best behaviour as of late, and the brown-eyed boy most definitely deserved it.

However, that isn't what Principal Harding's face said when he met me in his office after lunch ended. He didn't need to say anything at all, his face said it all pretty clearly: that he was tired of Rhodes' children enrolling at his school, and that he could not wait for the day that he was free from our torment.

I do think that 'torment' is a strong word to use when it comes to Myles and me. Next to our older brother, Damien, we appear as saints.

I am hoping that it is Damien who is the one to pick me up before my two-day suspension begins. Unfortunately for me, Damien hasn't stepped foot into the school since he dropped out a few years ago and is likely Principal Harding's last option to call from the list of my approved guardians. Even though it's been forty minutes — my eyes keep bouncing between the moving minute hand of the ancient clock and the eyes of the annoying boy in front of me — I guess my Principal refuses to greet anyone else but my oldest brother, Vince, or my second oldest brother, Logan.

He gets his way at the end of the day because ten minutes later, Logan barges into the small room I am in, appearing disgruntled and very pissed off. Logan somehow always manages to appear annoyed, so I don't let it get to me.

He looks the most different from me out of all my siblings: bright blond curly hair, light eyes and a crooked smile. He gets his looks from his mother and we all get our tiredness and anger (which Logan is currently sporting) from our lovely absentee father.

My second oldest brother's eyes meet mine immediately as soon as he steps into the room. Sure his eyes are bright blue, but at the moment they're darkened and outraged. He surveys me head to toe before a scowl sets upon his lips. As he's wearing his reading glasses, I can assume that Harding's call has interrupted him during an online lecture

My brother disappears into the office for another fifteen minutes. When he reemerges, his glasses are off and the scowl is still on his face.

"Octavia," he says my name with bitterness, and slight exasperation, likely because he doesn't particularly enjoy being here either.

Logan has told me many stories of back in the day when he used to journey through the hallways of Springfield High from Monday to Friday with Principal Harding as one of his teachers. Only, Logan was a bookworm and wasn't under our fellow principal's scrutiny, as he preferred to spend his lunchtimes in the library instead of picking fights with other kids. Regardless of this, Logan is still very aware of Harding's habits, after experiencing them for four years.

There are two things Logan and I can agree with. One, my principal needs to work on his conversation skills, and two, he needs to shave off his beard.

Logan continues staring at me when I don't make the effort to respond. He is about to open his mouth again, probably to tell me off whilst using that voice that only he and Vince use when I'm in deep shit, but I manage to avoid this by jumping out of my seat and heading straight for the door.