Clang! The lockers reverberated as Divonne's body slammed against them. "I'll mess you up!" Divonne yelled, struggling against the relentless grip and rapid punches from his opponent.
In the background, other students gathered, some chanting "Fight! Fight! Fight!" as if cheering on a brawl.
Divonne managed to knock the other boy down, who fell with a loud thud on his back. Gasping for air, Divonne gathered his strength, but before he could react, a swift blow landed on his chin, followed by more punches blinding him. He realized too late that Grayson was not someone to mess with.
"Hey! Get off him, Grayson!" a voice boomed in the distance, scattering the onlookers.
Ignoring the warning, Grayson continued his assault, relentless in his attack on the bloodied Divonne.
A teacher intervened, firmly grabbing Grayson's biceps. "This is the third time this week! Enough of your nonsense!" he scolded, escorting Grayson down the hall.
Later, Grayson found himself seated before Principal Mr. Stone, who looked visibly frustrated. It was the fifth incident that week-three fights and two instances of classroom misconduct.
"What's the issue this time?" the principal grumbled, hand on his face.
"He got into a fight and seriously injured another student," the teacher reported, expecting swift disciplinary action.
Grayson rolled his eyes defiantly. "He had it coming," he muttered.
"That's it!" Mr. Stone exclaimed, reaching for the phone. "I'm calling your guardian directly. This is your fifth visit to my office! What's going on with you, Grayson Charles?" His frustration was palpable.
Grayson scoffed. "People are jerks. If they didn't provoke me, none of this would happen. Why am I always the target? Is this some kind of discrimination?" he questioned, slouching in his chair.
Mr. Stone frowned deeply. "Sit up this instant. You're on thin ice. One more incident and you're expelled," he warned sternly.
Rolling his eyes once more, Grayson begrudgingly complied. The teacher shook his head at Grayson's attitude.
Principal Stone dialed a number, holding the phone to his ear. "Mr. Griffin, this is Mr. Stone, Grayson's principal. I regret to inform you that Grayson is being expelled from Greenville Middle School," he announced, awaiting a response.
Grayson stared blankly at the wall, seemingly unfazed.
"We've tried contacting you multiple times for meetings, but you never showed up! This child needs serious discipline, starting with your involvement in his schooling," Mr. Stone continued, frustration evident in his voice.
"I doubt he'll ever fit into society with behavior like this. Hello? Hello?" Mr. Stone muttered, hanging up the phone and turning his attention back to Grayson and the teacher, who remained silent.
"You heard me. Good luck, Mr. Charles," Mr. Stone said, his expression serious.
Grayson sat up abruptly. "Luck's got nothing to do with it," he retorted, knocking over a stack of files before leaving, hands in his pockets. He went to his locker, struggling violently with the zippers of his bag until they broke, forcing him to discard the bag and its contents in the trash just as the final bell rang. Students peered at him in the hallway giving him judgemental stares including teachers who had tasted his violent stunts.
Walking out on the street, Grayson wiped his nose and ran a hand through his jet-black hair. He strolled past a shop and crossed the road, narrowly avoiding a car without flinching.
YOU ARE READING
Safe Hands
Teen FictionGrayson is one more teenager who announced trouble by mere looks, breaking every rule on his path with a home he dreaded returning to after school and would sometimes walk the street wishing he never made it back. He worked too many jobs to pay a de...
