Frankly Frankie

Chapter Three

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I guess being the headmaster of a prestigious institute such as Maplewood Academy was a busy job, because I found myself sitting in the waiting room for what felt like forever. Although in reality I had probably only been there for about thirty minutes or so. During which time I'd managed to flip through several educational magazines. Fun fact: did you know that polar bears are left-handed? Hm, I guess what they say is true… You do learn something new everyday.

Finally, just as I had finished the last available magazine, the office receptionist called my name before pointing me towards Mr. Wheaton's room. 

I know that the polite thing to do is knock but the mahogany door was already swung wide open, and if that isn't an invitation to barge right in than I don't know what is. So I did, barge in, taking several heavy steps past the threshold into the pristine office.

It was just as fancy as you'd expect. The wall directly behind the headmasters desk was covered with built in bookshelves that held books I bet he had never read, and trophies he probably hadn't won. The other three walls were decorated with pictures of him shaking hands with important people, and certificates that I didn't care to read. Then, of course, in the middle of the room was a fancy wooden desk, with matching wooden chairs, and sitting in the one opposite of me was Mr. Wheaton. 

He wasn't exactly what I had envisioned a headmaster to look like. Instead of being so old that he was decaying Mr. Wheaton looked to be in his late forties, and didn't have the ever important beard of authority I'd imagined. Actually his face was clean shaved, the only hair on it grew above his dark eyes which were framed by the beginning stages of crows feet. He didn't even have hair on his head, probably thanks to male pattern baldness. Still he oozed power and his mere presence was enough to shake me.

"Francesca Carson, I assume?" He asked in a gravelly voice, and for a moment I considered not correcting him. 

"You assumed right, but I actually just go by Frankie." I guess that moment passed. But maybe just this once I should have listened to the little voice in my head, because Mr. Wheaton looked completely unamused. 

"Right. Well we have a few things we need to discuss Ms. Carson. Would you mind taking a seat?" The inflection at the end of his sentence suggested it was a question, but it felt much more like a demand. One which I quickly obeyed by planting my butt in the chair opposite him. 

Lying on the desk in front of him was a file. A file I could only assume was mine because of the sheer size. Well that, and the fact that my name was clearly printed on the side. Anyway, Mr. Wheaton gazed down at it for a moment as his face morphed into an expression somewhere between shock and disappointment. Then finally he turned his attention back towards me before speaking once again.

"Ms. Carson your record is…" He paused. "Impressive. I'm not too concerned about your grades. They're actually decent, but your disciplinary record is less than desirable. Your file is cluttered with detention slips, a few suspensions, and even one expulsion… And that's just your school record. How is it possible that a woman of your age already has a criminal history?"

"It was a misunderstanding, okay? I know it says I was 'trespassing' on there, but I didn't know public parks closed after dark." I blurted out. "If I'm such a disappointment… If my record is so bad then why are you even letting me attend your school?" I questioned with crossed arms. 

"I don't need you to get defensive Ms. Carson. I was simply trying to point out that Maplewood Academy has a reputation to uphold, and that your past behavior would not be tolerated. Your Grandfather pulled a lot of string to get you here an-"

"You mean he made a 'generous' donation?" I questioned, trying to match Mr. Wheaton's tone.

"Yes, he did make a very generous donation. So I think that it would be in both parties best interest for you to act accordingly. Okay?" He asked with one perched eyebrow, and his hand clasped together over my file. I'm not sure if he was threatening me, or my Grandfather's political career. Which ever the case, my stomach was left turning. 

All I could do was silently nod because even thinking about agreeing aloud left a bad taste in my mouth. In fact this whole situation made me feel dirty, like I was doing a drug deal with a sleazy crime boss, or even selling my soul to the devil. It was suddenly becoming clear that this man was no Dumbledore and this place was no Hogwarts. 

"Great. Now that we have an understanding, there is just one more condition to you being here." He hissed. "We think that it would be good for you to see the school councilor twice a week: Once on mondays and again on thursdays." 

I wanted to scream. I wanted to shout. I wanted to punch Mr. Wheaton in the face, but instead I did nothing. Ever since I was young people have tried to make me see a councilor. Everyone wants me to talk about what happened to me, but I've done enough talking. I talked to the police. I've talked in court. I've talked to reporters. I always thought I was done talking … Until now. "Okay."

As I sat in a dreary haze a repetitive knock came from the doorway behind me, and Mr. Wheaton beaconed the visitor inside. Quickly I gathered myself together and turn my attention towards the stranger. 

She was a girl of average height and beyond average features. Her skin was the color of my morning coffee after I add milk and sugar, and her hair was a modern afro of tight light brown spirals. She could very well be a model with her large hazel eyes and plump glossy lips. In short, if I swung that was I'd be on that like white on rice.

"Ms. Carson, this is your roommate Annie Campbell. She'll be showing you around. Oh! and before I forget…" He said grabbing several pieces of paper and extending them towards me. "Here is your class schedule, and here is a map of the school. It can be pretty confusing the first few days."

"Thanks." I mumbled. 

"I hope you like it here at Maplewood Academy, and I hope our talk will help you adjust." Mr. Wheaton said in a tone I didn't recognize. I guess he puts up fronts for other students. I didn't really care though. I just wanted to get out of there, and with Annie by my side that's just what I did.