Devil on the Rooftop [Book 1]

Chapter 8 - Khaleel

Tomasia took control of the council meeting. More students had shown up; committee members, the secretary, treasurer, class representatives, and the club advisor. The room was filled with all kinds of faces and voices, each with their own agenda and concerns. In the midst of that, I was the fly on the wall. No one had greeted or addressed me since the beginning. They took the extra step to make sure their chairs were far away from mine. I had cause to be pissed but I didn't complain. I understood why a few of them were being cautious, having dealt with them as clients, but the rest were just being rude.

"Class representatives for term one," Tomasia said. "We have now confirmed all field trips, correct?"

A skittish boy spoke up. I recognized him as a recent client—yeah, he was not as smart at he looked, those reading glasses weren't fooling anyone. "C-Class one will be going to the Civilization Museum," he stuttered. "C-Class two has decided on the aquarium, and c-class three was sold on the observatory."

Matilda raised her brow at me. I glanced at the pen and notebook she had forced on me. Apparently, I was supposed to take notes for the meeting. They really thought I was going to waste time on this? What a fucking joke. I crossed my arms and leaned back in my chair in defiance. If she wanted minutes recorded, she could do it herself.

"Class two is the only one who hasn't provided us with all their permission slips," the club advisor added. "Let's try to put a little pressure on them with a reminder."

"Agreed," Tomasia chimed in. "Class representatives, you all need to do better and be more assertive with these tasks."

A few faces in the room nodded.

I rolled my eyes, consumed with boredom. Matilda eyed me again to utilize the pen and notebook. I faked a smile before speaking up, "These mind-numbing locations aren't going to motivate anyone to get their permission slips to you."

The room fell silent when the spotlight landed on me. "Who the hell comes up with these lame ideas anyway?" I asked, looking straight at Matilda.

"The homeroom teachers do," she replied sharply. She looked like she was ready to kick my ass out the door—god, I wished she would. "They are picked by relevance and convenience. We can't have classes going to water parks every year. It would be a logistical nightmare."

"So, why allow it last year?" I asked. "You raised the bar and now you can't follow through? Why don't you try asking the students where they want to go?"

Tomasia intervened, "They have five locations to pick from."

"Oh yeah, because that's the same thing."

"When we want your opinion we'll ask for it," Matilda retorted.

"Well, that's harsh. I'm only taking part in this shit show because I have to."

"Show some respect, you delinquent! You're supposed to be taking notes, not speaking out of turn!"

"Yeah, that won't be happening."

"It's too late to ask students where they prefer to go," Tomasia addressed a few concerned council members. They seemed to agree with my thinking but were too scared to say anything. "We can't be breaking rules just because a few people are slower to respond. If we don't have enough permission slips from class two then they will be asked to use that day for self-study. I will not be pushed around or forced into making decisions so late into the game."

I shrugged indifferently while Matilda continued to give me the stink eye. "I'll just sit here and let you morons dictate the student body then," I drawled.

Matilda got out of her chair and pointed at me. "I told you to be respectful! You were warned! Now, you're unwelcome! Get up and excuse yourself!"

"Happily," I obliged.

She followed me out into the hallway and closed the door behind us. Then she had the nerve to hiss at me to move away. I obeyed. Not because I had to but because I was intrigued by her hostility. This strange girl was angry with me before we even met. I wasn't sure if it was because of my bad reputation or because of a completely different reason? Wait. Did this girl have a thing for me? That would explain it. I moved up behind her, which caused her to instinctively shift against the side wall.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"What exactly is your problem?" I asked, searching her eyes. They looked deceptively hazel under the basement fluorescents.

"You're a bully and a cheat," she said—it looked like she was ready to spit in my face.

I pressed my hand against the wall and moved my face close to hers. "That's a big assumption. Are you sure it's not because you're into me?"