Snakes Don't Bite Their Owners

Red is Not my Favourite Colour

Despite our extremely early departure from my front door, we arrived at school minutes after the noisy scatter and disperse of students. In other words - we were late. Not that I cared... being on time is stupid - It gives people more time to laugh at you and call you names. Roger, on the other hand, was not happy. 

"We can NOT be late again Harriet. We've already been late 6 times this semester, and we're only two weeks in! We'll have to go to detention after school now... and I really don't have the time for it. I'll have to skip film club and I didn't go last week either so they'll probably kick me out and..."

"Woooahh. Dude, chill. It's fine." He stared at me with wide eyes, like I had just told him that my uncle was in fact the first man on the moon, and there was a statue of him in Zimbabwe because of it... Clearly my words were not very reassuring. "Just don't go. What's the worst they can do?" He continued to stare at me for a few moments before letting out a deflated sigh. "Yeah, I guess." Then we parted ways and I scuttled off to Math class.

Although I wasn't actually planning on it, I wouldn't be in detention that afternoon... Instead, I would be somewhere MUCH worse.

It happened halfway through 3rd period. Right in the middle of Ms Reziya's recount of her first violin concert at the age of 5. And, in a way, I was glad to be relieved of the narration of her childhood, but my joy was short-lived as I found myself sitting in the dreaded chair opposite the desk of Mr. Hexon... our principal.

"Do you know why you're here?" My thoughts flickered to a time in fifth grade where I 'accidentally' let Chuckles, the class Hamster, out of his cage. Then I thought about a moment last year when I borrowed a book from the library, spilled carrot juice on it, and then set it on fire.  As for recent events... nothing came to mind. 

"Does this look familiar to you?" He was holding up a can of red spray paint as though it was a deadly weapon, and it didn't take a genius to figure out that he'd already decided the answer was yes. "So you thought the school needed a bit of decorating, did you?" Uhhhh, what? "What made you think it would be a good idea to break into school on a Sunday evening and vandalize the property?" Again... WHAT?! "What do you have to say for yourself, huh?"

"Um, I think... you... I mean, I didn't... it wasn't me. I don't, I don't really know what you're talking about. Sir." It's good to be fancy and proper sometimes when you're in trouble. It makes people think you're more sincere. "I wouldn't bother with all that if I was you Miss Snoopygard. There's a lot of evidence here that says otherwise." Evidence? "I swear sir, it wasn't me." He smugly lifts up possibly the ugliest knitted sweater I've seen in my life and swivels his computer screen around. I watch intently as a figure pulls a can out of a bag and scribbles over a set of lockers in bright red. This person was wearing the exact sweater that was lying on the desk in front of me. "We found these items in your locker." Oh no.

Before he could tell me that I was suspended or expelled or whatever, I sprinted out of the room in a rage. I had one goal... I was going to find and destroy Jessica Marvante. There was no doubt in my mind that this was her doing. 

So I slammed open the door to room 573, and punched her right in the face.