Cam's Guide to Navigating Rock Bottom

3 - Repercussions

C H A P T E R 3

➺

Staring out the windows I was met with a clear blue sky. The temperature was perfect for a day out. Birds chirped melodiously in the crisp Granite Hillside air, the weather was slightly humid with a cool breeze sweeping across the scene. The bright light filtered in through grey blinds, casting lined shadows over every surface in the room. The scene was aesthetic, like everything in this town, but my current circumstances were not.

Hopelessness filled my being and was further amplified by my teacher telling me to head down to the principal's office. The scene had played out the same way as it usually did. The immature oos that sounded when this was announced, the irritated glare I shot my teacher, and the slow trek through the empty halls.

I had initially not thought much about it until a familiar black SUV sat parked close to the entrance. A familiar number plate stared back at me through clear windows. Taunting me, serving as a warning for the series of unfortunate events that were about to follow.

Suddenly the chirping of the birds was grating and harsh, the sun was a bit too bright for my eyes and the breeze was uncomfortable and biting. The last I had been here was just as the third semester of my junior year began.

I sat within the confines of pebble grey walls, my behind numb from sitting in the plastic furniture. I believe the poor choice of furniture served as an interrogation tactic. The longer any student sat on the hard grating plastic, the more likely they were to succumb to his suggestion or questioning.

Principle Hawkings sat behind a large mahogany desk, his face red as he vented. Chubby hands waved wildly, everything about his current state erratic and borderline unhinged.

I did tend to have that effect on people.

Another time I would have egged him on. I would have attempted to see how red his face could go but today was different. As I was with an audience.

I had been familiar with their type. The ones who attended all shows to offer nothing but criticism void of any praise. Their words had been delivered with a stoicism that was unnerving almost jarring. So unnerving, that the performer (me) would prefer, in all actuality, for them to jest, heckle, or something.

I was sandwiched between my mother and father, as Principal Hawkings rattled away detailing the semantics of my poor academic performance. After years worth of these meetings you'd assume all basis was covered but no. Every time he had the uncanny ability to dredge up something new.

Principal Hawkins and I had somewhat of a complicated relationship.

By complicated I mean we hated each other. Too many times had he been elated to dish out punishment, or revel in my failures. He was meant to be a guiding light, a symbol of academic integrity and all that was good but he wasn't.

He was demotivating, bitter, and an absolute fear-monger. A personification of my insecurities. Repeating everything I had told myself, in some shape way or form. Sometimes in the most inopportune moments. 

Castien and Eva Alvarez sat beside me. Their faces were unwavering, not betraying the irritation and anger that bubbled beneath the surface. Instead, their emotions were betrayed by subtle movements.

Be it the slight adjusting of a sterling silver watch or the noncommittal hum that seemed to drone on a second longer. Maybe it was the way my mother's head tilted away from me every time my name had been mentioned: or how my father's large ears itched at the most inopportune moments. Whichever it was, I mentally braced myself.