The Good Ones

Counceled out

(Y/h) = your height
(Y/w) = your weight

•••••

       You walk up to your locker and find a note taped to the front of it. Your stomach drops at the sight of it. On the front of it is written 12 words, "To those concerning Woodrow Wilson high school's Counseled-Out Program."

       'Y/N L/N' is written directly underneath it. Your mind wanders back to earlier in Mr. Iglesias' class when Principal Madison had said, "And some of you, I will see next year."

       You remove the envelope from your locker. As you inspect it a little closer, your 'counseling-out' a.k.a., your expulsion, is becoming all the more undeniable.

       You make your way to find Mr. Iglesias to ask for an explanation or a way to get out of this, as he seems to be, so far, the only other person concerned by this whole thing.

       You see Mr. Iglesias in the hallway talking to Walt. When you walk up to them it sounds like they are talking about the letters. Finally, I am not the only student worried about these notes that are being left on our lockers.

       "Mr. Iglesias!" Walt calls from the top of the hallway stairwell.

       "Oh, hey, Walt," says Mr. Iglesias

       "Great news," Says Walt, "I'm graduating early."

       Mr. Iglesias chuckles. "Graduating? What're you talking about?"

       "Check it out I got a letter from Mr. Hernandez," Says Walt

       "'Counseled... out.' Walt, you're not graduating, you're -- you're being expelled," Mr. Iglesias explains.

       "Well, I think we can agree, the important thing is, I don't have to come back!" Says Walt, "School didn't want me, and I've never wanted it. This is a no fault divorce. Just like my folks."

       Welp, never mind, still the only student concerned. Although considering it's Walt, you're not surprised that he is embrassing this with open arms.

       "So, what next? Goldman sachs?" questions Mr. Iglesias.

       "Foot Locker. I'll make those stripes look good," Says Walt.

       "Yeah, I doubt that. I used to work there. Heh. I looked like a fat barcode," Says Mr. Iglesias. He sighs. "I think you can do better than Foot Locker."

       "You know what I'd really like to sell?" Asks Walt.

       "Did the State of California legalize it in 2016?" questions Mr. Iglesias.

       "I was gonna say custom rims, but I like your idea way better. Thanks, Mr. Iglesias!" Walt exclaims.

       "Uh, wait, no-- uh-- you know, I was thinking shoe--, -people need shoes!" Mr. Iglesias yells to Walt who is walking down the hallway.

       "Not as much as they need weed!" Walt yells back.

       "Yeah, but they need the shoes to get to the weed!" Mr. Iglesias counters. You giggle a little bit.

       "Hey, Uh, Mr. Iglesias?" You ask him timidly.

       "Oh hey Y/n, Whats up?" he responds.

       "Um so you know how earlier today when Principle Madison said that she would only be seeing some of us back here next year?"

       "Yeah... oh no." he looks at you dead in the eyes realizing you must have gotten counseled out too.