Silent storms

Chapter Two

Taking the same route as everyday, this walk to school seems longer than usual. Starting at 8:00 a.m. Brock leaves roughly at 7:40 a.m. This morning he makes a wondering assumption to why he grabbed a hoodie. Draping over him, looking down, scuffing tiny pebbles off the bottom of his shoe; Brock floats in his thoughts like a lost bird searching for its destroyed nest. Wanting to fly, he has no destination, not while leaving his mother behind anyway. Money is the issue, time is his enemy.

Approaching the school he drops his hood and enters.

Start of first period, Math. Enjoying that school goes slow; today he does not. Ready for lunch - it stretches miles. Hunger awaits, being the last thing on his mind. Getting good grades is never on his mind. You have a better chance of throwing Brock in an immure room before you get him to do homework. Mr. Bentley found that out fast, so he stopped handing notes out to him the second week of school.

"Mr. Bent-" Brock throws his right hand up beside his head cutting himself off while Mr. Bentley walks by passing out papers. "Can I get one of those."

"You actually plan on doing your homework for once?" Six-foot built wall, partially bald with a full dark beard stares down at him with curious eyes.

Brock shakes his head softly. He feels the whole class pressing their eyes on him. A fresh attired mannequin behind the glass. Feeling like the center of attention, he mumbles his words quick. "Want it for scrap paper."

Mr. Bentley drops his eyes to him, handing him a paper. "At least pay attention today. Please Mr. Kizer." Mr. Bentley continues passing them out as Brock starts sketching dollar signs.

"Okay class. Any questions on the homework from last night?"

"Number 7." Alisha Davis. Opposite from Brock, she cares more than ever about her grades.

"That's a tough one. Anyone else have trouble on number 7? Lets take a look at it. Turn to page-" The telephone rings. All eyes swarm to it like a bunch of buzzing bees. "Page 112. Hold on kids."

Taking the phone from the wall. "Mr. Bentley speaking." Soft voices roam the open air. Mr. Bentley cuffs his right ear to block them out. "I do. . . Yes. . . I will. . . Okay he will be down." Brock stares, feeling a gravitational pull by Mr. Bentley's tone. Locking eyes; Brocks face steams embarrassment.

"Mr. Kizer. You're needed in the principals office." Crumbling the note paper in his hand, he stands. Tossing it in the trash by the door; he walks out.

At the office quicker than wanted, he witnesses Principal Wilkins through the glass window, talking to the schools secretary. Brock swings open the door, putting their conversation to an end.

"Brock. Lets go to my office." Waving him over they head down a narrow hall. First door on the left, they enter. "Take a seat." The door shuts behind them. Lounged deep into his seat with sprawled legs, Brock rest his chin on his right hand.

"You walk home from school correct?" Principal Wilkins voice cast out, wanting Brock to bite.

"I thought you knew that?"

"I do. Just want to be sure."

"Okay. Why?"

"It was brought to my attention that yesterday when school ended, while still on school property, you took your shirt off." Throwing his elbows on his desk, Principal Wilkins leans forward.

"So? It was hot."

"You have to follow the dress code while being on school property. Public indecency is strictly prohibited on any school grounds."