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Elias found himself in the headmaster's office again.
The man looked at him across his dark wooden desk, lacing his fingers together as he settled back on his seat. "Do you know why you're here?"
"Because you invited me for tea?"
He was not amused.
"I'm not sure how many times I have to inform you of this," he gestured to the boy's attire, "but it's getting out of hand."
Honestly, Elias didn't have a problem with the dress code. A navy blazer with the Academy's crest, white dress shirt, matching navy tie, grey trousers and black dress shoes—it made him look smarter than he actually was. Other times, though, he much preferred only wearing the dress shirt, if not the top buttons popped. It simply suited him better.
He didn't think the headmaster would appreciate that excuse.
"Might I suggest, sir," he started, "that I see it as artistic self-expression."
"Or student misconduct."
"Perception is key."
The headmaster sighed, taking off his one-eyed spectacle. "Mr. Sabatier—"
"It's Sabatier."
Elias was really asking to be expelled.
The older man narrowed his eyes. "I am well aware that you are a prominent figure in our Academy's lacrosse department. Your team has been the best we've had in years, and I know the big game is approaching. However," he paused, "your sportsmanship does not fully excuse your misbehaviour."
"This isn't just because of my dress code, is it?"
He shook his head. "The Academy board has taken note of your frequent tardiness and recklessness during classes. This would have been spared... if it weren't for your current academic record."
There it was.
"This is your second year of sixth form," he stated. "Your final year. And pardon me for being blunt, but by the looks of it, you won't make it to graduation. Our Academy teaches students to be well-rounded, yes, but academia will always be the foundation of this institution. So might I suggest, Mr. Sabatier, that you start taking things seriously and get matters into your own hands."
When he stepped out of the double doors, two of his best mates, Charles Graham and Nolan Parrish, both looked up.
"And the lad lives," Charles quipped.
Elias rolled his eyes. "Put a sock in it."
"What was it about this time?"
"Just the same bollocks," he muttered. "But I think he's starting to make sense now."
