The Red School

(12) She's Been Promiscuous Since She Was Twelve.

Picture of Valeria to the side.
CHAPTER 12

                Principal Sachler’s office goes extremely quiet; in fact the only thing that can be heard is the slight hum coming from the computer on her desk. The tension is so thick in the air that I can practically taste it… or maybe it’s the cologne that Claude Irvian is wearing. He seriously overdoes it.

                My entire body is on fire, the anger that I’m feeling right now heating it up more and more as every second passes. A sharp pain stings the inside of my hands, and I look down to realize that my fingers have clenched into tight fists. Loosening my fingers, I grimace, my gaze landing back on my father.

                He’s watching me. The deep black orbs on his face never leave my own eyes, and I can feel nothing but rage. It’s like he’s waiting for me to react, but I’ve yet to say anything. What am I supposed to say anyway? It’s not like he’s here for me. No, he’s here for Flora, to be a father to her, to discuss her punishment with Principal Sachler for the food fight we had. Certainly not to discuss mine.

                But still, I can’t look away from him. After all these years, he pretty much looks the same. Well, of course he looks the same, he’s a vampire. He stopped aging a long time ago. But still. Nothing about him seems to have changed, apart from the new chill that seems to be radiating off of him in waves. Maybe the frosty look in his eyes, which certainly wasn’t there before.

                It’s Flora who breaks the intense silence. “Dad?” she calls out to him, almost desperately, and I look over to see her staring at him with a strong hope in her eyes. “Dad… what are you doing here?”

                Another second passes, and Claude Irvian finally pulls his gaze away from me. I know it must’ve been hard for him, to lose a staring contest with his daughter who hates him. He locks eyes with Flora,  blinking once. “Your mother couldn’t make it,” he tells her finally, his tongue running over his top row of teeth, something he does when he’s lying. “She’s sick, so I’m here to take her place.”

                I don’t know if Flora can tell that he’s lying or not, but her face contorts into a scowl, which my father pretends not to notice and returns his attention to me. A low chuckle escapes his lips, “You are the last person I expected to even be involved in something like this, let along sent to the office. I’d have been less surprised to walk through those doors and see my eldest child’s face, but not yours.” His voice holds a mixture of surprise and amusement, the small smile on his face making the corner of his eyes crinkle.

                Inhaling a sharp breath, I try my hardest to fight back tears. I don’t know why, in my fury, in seeing him after all this time, all I want to do is cry. It’s pathetic really. There are plenty of people out there with daddy issues, there’s no need to cry about it. “People change though, right?” I finally speak for the first time since he’s stepped foot in the room, and my voice cuts through the air like sharp fangs through flesh, though it’s still shaky. I can’t even bother to feel ridiculous in front him right now being that I’m covered in cake ingredients and drenched in water.

                I don’t miss the brief grimace that passes through this man’s face, but it’s quickly replaced by a blank look. I don’t know what to expect from him. He’s feared by a lot of people these days, and I’ve heard that he’s even sarcastic. I’m used to his sarcasm—I’ve dealt with it my whole life. But it was a different kind of sarcasm, a friendly version, a playful sarcasm. The Claude Irvian I’ve known in the past is kind, smart, and sarcastic. But I can already tell that this Claude Irvian is evil, still smart, and still sarcastic, but in a different way. In an angrier way.