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My conversation with the Principal went about the way I expected it to go

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My conversation with the Principal went about the way I expected it to go.

Him: What is your issue with Mr. Lemon?

Me: He's an ignorant racist asshole.

Him: So he said something? What did he say?

Me: ...Something ignorant and racist.

Him: What warranted such an extreme response?

Me: ...I don't like ignorant racist assholes.

Him: That still doesn't give you the right to hit him.

Me: ...I really don't like them. (at this he sighed in exasperation)

Him: Our school prides itself in non-violent methods of conflict resolution. You know this. So I'm going to ask you again, why did you strike Mr. Lemon?

Me: ...He was looking particularly strike-able this morning. (this is where he rolled his eyes but kind of looked like he was holding back a laugh. I'm not the only one that isn't fond of Liam Lemon)

Him: I understand that Mr. Lemon has a... unique style of communication that doesn't mix well with others. But I can't help you if you don't tell me what he said. You're a good kid so I'll let you off with a warning. Don't do this shit again though (he likes to occasionally curse around us because he thinks it'll make him relatable. It doesn't. He still sucks.)

Me: I won't Principal Borsie.

Him: Good. So...How's Lorena doing?

And then I clenched my jaw so tight my teeth start to grind against each other because that wasn't the first time nor will it be the last time that a middle aged bachelor in Coral Cove has asked about my mother. He spent the rest of the time telling stories about my mom in high school, as though I asked and was curious about the teenage angst version of a woman who's horny enough as it is.

I'm suspended for the rest of the week – which is wild because somehow Liam has never once received any kind of consequence for one of the twenty-seven times he's beat my ass, but whatever. The reality is that this could have gone worse and I received a pretty light consequence all things considered.  

I step out of the principal's office with a sheepish smile on my face and I find Dhalia exactly where I left her before I was ferried into Principal Dipshit's office. Nothing against Anthony Borsie, he's just...not my cup of tea. It's hard to like a man your mother probably definitely may have also slept with.

The school's front office is typically as lively as a hospital waiting room. There is one dingy window facing the courtyard and parking lot that leads to the school entrance; so not only is there very little natural light peeking in through the blinds, the view itself is pretty shitty. Everyone has a tendency to move at a slower speed and no one really looks like they want to be there. The only saving grace is typically the front desk lady, Patricia Pearl, a kind woman who means well but should really keep her nose out of everyone else's business.

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