INSTA-Daddy

17

He was Dirty Tom after all.

Jennifer sarcastically smirked. "Oh, so you're a good guy now?"

She got no answer.

"Why are you even helping her? Isn't seeing other's pain your thing?", She question, ironically, again.

Still no answer.

I could notice that Tom's silence pissed the shittake mushrooms out of her. My arms were circled around his shoulder, his hand around my waist as he assisted me to walk.

I suddenly lost my strength. It seemed I exerted a lot of force from earlier just to escape my face from being sucked by the swirly water of doom.

"I'm not yet done with her," Jen croaked with threat.

"Will you shut up?" He growled irritatingly. We already passed her and was standing in front of her, near the doorway where some students were gathering to witness the scene.

Jennifer flinched, letting out a light squeal. Paula hugged her friend's shoulder nervously.

"What is going on here?" Miss Kelly barged in the situation. Mr. Wallace was trailing behind and so did Mr. Ford, the fresh-graduate, freshly-hired Language instructor.

Some of our audiences scrammed away as Mr. Wallace ordered them to do so. The others stayed to finish the scene as if they're watching some kind of TV Show. Mr. Wallace forced them to leave but they didn't so he just sort of gave up.

The school bell ending lunch rang.

****
It was my first time being sent to the Principal's office. This will not look good on my records. My student council record to be clear.

Mr. Wilmer sat behind his desk. It was a bit messy and crowded. Some papers on the side had already piled up, almost levelling to the lava-lamp on the other end of the table.

I was sitting in front of the Principal's desk. To my right sat Tom and to my left was Jennifer who had her arms crossed against her chest the entire time. Tom, on the other hand, was sitting in a 'de quatro' as what we call it.

The three of us were quiet with only the ticking sound of the wall clock making noise. Mr. Wilmer wasn't saying anything yet. He was fondling through the piled up papers on his desk while clearing his throat.

Once he was done with the papers-- he slid it sideways, he eyed the three of us. His glare was sharp enough to pierce through my own eyes down to my spine.

He started with an awkward clearing of throat before clasping his hands below his chin. His elbows were pinned on the table's surface.

I shifted my pupils to no exact direction, just wanting to avoid our dear Principal's sharp gaze. I could see what Tom was doing from my peripheral vision. He was yawning.

Mr. Wilmer cleared his throat again as if on cue. "I assume the three of you know exactly why you are in here," he stated.

We didn't respond.

"I mean Tom, I can understand. Jennifer, slightly understandable. But you, Ms. Cortez," I bobbed my head down upon hearing him mention my name. Meanwhile, Jennifer grunted at the mention of my name.

"It was her fault Mr. Wilmer," Jennifer wailed with a gentle, pleading voice. It was an obvious fake. "She started it."

I rolled my eyes and argued otherwise. I told him what happened from going to the cafeteria ending up with what happened in the girls' bathroom. Jennifer was denying everything.

The Principal's office was bombed with grunts and growls and words of arguments from Jennifer and me. I even found myself hauling my body upward slowly just to exert authority for my defense. Tom sat still gazing at us with amusement.