Devil on the Rooftop [Book 1]

Chapter 2 - Khaleel

"Khaleel Abdul."

I didn't like the way the school dean said my name, with conviction and authority, like he could discipline me into next week with the snap of a finger. Did he really think he could scare me with that sickly and overworked complexion? He was on the brink of extinction for fucksake. I mean, this man was way past his midlife crisis. The coffee stains on his brown, chequered, elbow-patched suit told a story no one wanted to hear.

"Dean Cartwright," I retorted, glancing at the silver plaque on his desk. He ignored my comment. He had to if he wanted to maintain professionalism.

"Why is it that when something bad happens at this academy, you and your friends are always in the middle of it?" Cartwright asked.

"What friends?" I played dumb, leaning back in the uncomfortable chair. I had become accustomed to it over the years, familiar with its peeling leather and squeaky mechanics. Our school should have funding to replace the outdated furniture, but Dean Cartwright probably enjoyed making his guests uncomfortable. The rest of his office wasn't half bad; it was filled to the brim with wooden book shelves, teaching awards, and philosophy posters. Polyester rugs were tucked under two side tables facing the door behind me, and fake greenery nested on the arched window ledges.

"Nothing bad happened," I assured the dean. "It was just a small misunderstanding."

"Yes," Dean Cartwright sighed, resting his glasses on the oval table. "Please explain. What made you steal a rat from the science department? What made you trap it in a locker with that poor boy?"

I carefully contemplated on what to say next. Not because I was guilty, which I was, but because I had conditioned myself not to tell lies.

"I didn't steal the rat," I answered. "That poor boy of yours did. He set it loose in my locker first. I was just returning it."

"You expect me to believe that one of the brightest minds at this academy provoked you?"

"I can't force you to believe me," I said, bored with the conversation. "And I'm not in the mood to hear another lecture about how I'm ruining Jackheight's reputation."

"I haven't said a word about it."

I combed back my wavy locks with my fingers. "We both know that's your default. So, why don't we get to the part where you call my old man and tell him what happened? He can write you a cheque on top of my suspension to apologize, and we can meet up in a few months to do this all over again?"

"Do you really intend to waste your youth like this?" Dean Cartwright deadpanned. "Are you so bored here at the academy that you find the need to bully students?"

"It was payback, not bullying."

"You know as well as I do that he wouldn't stand a chance against you!"

"It's cute that you get that," I said, used to intimidating people twice my age. "But there are people out there who don't need to overpower others with their brawn—their brains are more than enough. Scarier even. I was called to your office because that idiot challenged a guy who has both."

"Modest as ever, I see," he said.

I wasn't talking about myself, but nothing good would come out of involving my friend right now. He had bigger things to worry about. I could handle Cartwright and whatever predictable punishment he came up with. He wasn't the smartest tool in the shed, but he had influence over the school. Jackheights was known for its academically gifted students and the excellent athletes it produced, it didn't need a dean to discipline anybody, it needed a strategist to motivate and influence students.

"After much consideration, I have decided not to suspend you," Dean Cartwright went on. His determination nearly sucked the life out of me. "Instead, you will be joining the student council for the remainder of the term."

I was dumbfounded. "Come again?"

It was Cartwright's turn to smile. "You heard me, student council member."

"Fuck that. I would rather get suspended."

"That's unfortunate," he mused. "I've already spoken to your father's secretary about it. Kumar has given me permission to expel you, if necessary."

"E-Expel?" I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Was this old fart serious? Did he plan all this before I was called to his office? Was my uncle really supporting this messed up idea? No way! There was no way! My old man invested too much money into the school to let me get expelled. He wouldn't throw all of that away in a single day, not unless—

I sat up straight and glared daggers at the dean.

"That's right," Cartwright smirked. "Expulsion means a one-way ticket back to Pakistan."