Line of Best Fit

DENIAL

DENIAL
10:21 (2/17)
Albany, New York

Zebulon sat on the bench outside the office, his elbows pressed firmly to his knees in an attempt to keep his legs from shaking. His hand instinctively raised to cup his jaw as soreness began to spread through the left side of his face. The adrenaline was fading and anxiety was setting in.
The other boy had already been taken to the nurse's office, and not without good reason. Even if he started the fight, he couldn't have expected it to end so badly. He also had a semi-clean record working in his favor.
Zebulon wasn't so lucky. This was his third fight, at a school he'd only been at for a little over six months. The principal's face mirrored these facts as he roughly told Zebulon to come inside.
He followed on shaky legs, nearly collapsing in the chair across from the desk. The principal remained standing. That's when Zebulon scanned his office and noticed the man standing in the corner.
"Fuck me..." he muttered to himself, his eyes turning towards the ceiling. The police officer was staring right through him, completely expressionless.
"Mr. Velasquez, I think we have been more than clear about the rules. Lenient, even, after your first two offenses."
Zebulon felt a second surge of anger as the principal began speaking. "Yeah, no shit. So I'm being arrested now?"
"No, but if you continue to act disrespectfully, that may be the case. You're being removed from the premises, and detained until a parent comes to get you."
"I didn't even start the fight!" he argued, throwing his hands up.
"I won't ask you again to watch your tone." Zebulon took a deep breath and nodded, waiting for him to continue. "Even if you didn't start the fight, you used more force than necessary to argue self-defense. Combined with your record at our school alone, we have decided you will not be coming back."
As his words began to sink in Zebulon felt his stomach turn. They were kicking him out. He tried not to let the shock register, but the small smile on the older man's face let him know it had already slipped through.
"This shouldn't come as a surprise to you. Hasn't your conduct already caused you to leave three schools in this district?"
Zebulon sat there, focusing on keeping his face blank. His eye was watering and his cheek stung from a cut on the side of his face. His chest was tight, still cycling between anger and shock and panic.
"Can I at least go to the bathroom before I leave." He stared at his hands as he spoke, refusing to make eye contact.
"Of course, but Officer Reyes will have to escort you."
"Yeah, fine." He got up sharply, rolling his eyes as the officer followed him out the door. Thankfully, he stayed outside of the bathroom when Zebulon went in.
He stood in front of the mirror, pushing his hair out of his eyes and inspecting the damage done to his face. The stark white lights of the bathroom gave his skin a green tinge, and the blood looked fake as it smeared across his tan cheek. He cleaned off his hands as face the best he could with paper towels and soap, his knuckles barely stinging as he washed them in the lukewarm water.
"Alright, ready to go?" he asked the officer as he grabbed his bag off the floor and slung it over his shoulder. "I think I look pretty enough for a mug shot now."
The man guided him out the door without a response, and Zebulon drug his feet as they walked to the police car parked at the curb.
"Do I have to sit in the back?" His question got the officer to pause before shaking his head, opening the passenger door. "Fuckin bet."
The ride to the station was mostly silent as Zebulon contemplated whether or not to text his dad about what happened.
"Are you gonna call my dad?"
"Yes, I'll have to notify him so he can pick you up."
"Are you gonna take my phone?"
"When we get to the station I'll take your bag and have you empty your pockets, yes."
"Okay, so I'm not gonna text him."
"He'll still find out."
"Yeah, but now I don't have to be the one to tell him. You can get yelled at."
They drifted back into silence and Zebulon stared out the window.