Paper Flowers (Pretty Plastic People) ★

024. Breathing Room

A/N: This is the "calm before the storm" chapter, so...let's play a really interesting game in the comments!  In addition to your normal comments, ask any of the characters any questions you want, and I'll answer in their POVs ;)

024. Breathing Room

At Aquino High, the time has come for forgiveness.

"Ignore him," Brynn mutters in my ear, stepping in the cafeteria line behind me. I try to take her advice and study the lunch options instead, but my gaze is inexplicably torn back to Taylor. He's still talking to the boys, and even though one or two of them have trickled off, the rest look enraptured.

Suddenly, the food in front of me doesn't look to appetizing. I cut out of line, winding purposefully around the study body getting its lunch. A few people look at me concernedly, and I figure my eyes are still puffy from crying and my makeup's running. When I turn back around, I see that my friends are looking at me questioningly; I shoot them a thumbs-up and keep walking.

A few minutes later I find myself back in the school, where I stride straight to Mr. Denham's office. His door is shut but I don't see a Do Not Disturb sign anywhere, so I knock loudly.

"Yes?"

Gulping in a deep breath of air, which smells like the cleaning agent the secretary uses in the front office, I walk inside.

"Ms. Soto. I can't say that I'm surprised to see you here."

Mr. Denham is reclining back in his chair, his office phone pressed against his ear. He mutters something into the receiver before hanging up and straightening. "I assume you want to have a rousing, inspirational discussion with me, now?"

I can hear the barely veiled sarcasm in his voice, and I hate that he's trivializing something so important. I wish I could yell at him so that he can understand clearly what's going on, but I know that will only get me thrown out.

Another deep breath. "Mr. Denham, I wanted to know your plans for getting rid of the Post-It system that I discussed in today's assembly."

He loosens his tie. "Listen, Ms. Soto," he says, "I've brought it to the attention of the school board and they will work to figure out an appropriate punishment."

"I don't want people to be punished. I want this to end."

"Ms. Soto." Holding up a hand to silence me, he continues, "You did what you think is right and I appreciate your courage. From here on out, it's up to the board to decide the best action. We understand the complexities better than you could."

No, I don't think you do, I want to say. Mr. Denham can't possibly know about the complex culture at Aquino High, about the color-coded Post-It notes and the social hierarchy. And even if he does, he can't understand it the way I do. I've lived right in the middle of it all year. If anything, he's only been watching from the sidelines.

"I can help—" I start, but he cuts me off with a warning glance.

"If you could send me that recording, that will be enough. I assure you that we'll take steps to resolve this from here."

Wide eyes, I tell myself, so that tears don't start pricking at them again. Mr. Denham is treating me like a stupid child, like I should no better than try to interfere with the school board's agenda. But they're not doing anything about it, and even if they tried to solve the problem they'd go about it all the wrong way. Why can't he listen?

Still, I grumpily attach the voice memo into an email and send it to Mr. Denham. With a curt nod, he opens it. "Thank you, Erika," he says. "That will be all for now. I have a meeting to go to, and you can go back to lunch with your friends."