sᴡᴇᴀᴛᴇʀ ᴡᴇᴀᴛʜᴇʀ 𖦆 Devon is often described as a problem boy. He always gets hit in the face and has a folder full of reports from the multiple fights he has gotten into.
However, it couldn't be further from the truth. But who could believe him? Af...
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Devon looked at the school principal's horrible wooden desk with exhaustion and irritation. He had seen it so many times that he could tell how worn out it was, probably not changed in at least fifty years. But well, nobody cared about that; it still served its purpose, and Devon just stared at it to pass the time while pretending to listen to the scoldings that pierced his brain. He had heard the same sermon at least a million times, and he was almost sure he knew every word the man would say next.
Principal Dorfman had been scolding him for twenty minutes straight, yet Devon hadn't paid attention to a single word. His face hurt a lot from the strong blow he received from a guy with a wooden board an hour ago, and he was just waiting to be able to go and apply some ice and take a painkiller. If all went well, he also hoped to go straight to bed for a while.
"Devon, are you listening to me?" the principal spoke to him with annoyance.
The boy looked at him but didn't lift his head; he just moved his eyes, which only irritated the man even more.
"Can I go now?" he muttered tiredly. The area around the blow throbbed, and he just wanted to make the pain disappear for a moment.
The director was turning a deep shade of red due to anger and probably desperation. It was as if he were talking to a two-year-old and not to a seventeen-year-old teenager.
"You broke your classmate's cheekbone!" he shouted, then let out a tired sigh, pressing his nose bridge with force, "It's the fifth time this month, Devon. Tell me what's happening. Sean is in the hospital, and his parents are furious. They want to file a lawsuit against you."
The boy shrugged. He really didn't want to say that Sean, the guy whose cheekbone he had broken, had been teasing him and bothering him all week because he discovered him kissing another guy. Normally, he wouldn't care about what people said about him; it seemed pretty normal to him. The problem was when they messed with the other guy. He definitely wouldn't allow that. He also didn't care if he got expelled or arrested and sent to juvenile detention.
Devon settled into his seat, crossed his arms, and looked at the director who was waiting for some response.
"Sean was bothering another student, and I just defended him. Things got a bit... intense, and we ended up resorting to punches."
The director crossed his arms and sat on the edge of his desk. He was very upset, but he knew he had to take a deep breath. They didn't pay him enough to deal with this.
"Sean said you went straight to attack him."
The teenager rolled his eyes in irritation but refrained from letting out a loud sigh of annoyance.
"Well, let him say whatever he wants," Devon shifted in his seat, still with his arms crossed, "anyway, I don't understand why you're asking me if you're not going to believe me. Whatever he says, it seems that Sean has more credibility than me because apparently, I'm a delinquent. They're just waiting for an excuse to send me to juvenile detention once and for all. Well, here's your great opportunity."
