Arabella Academy: Perfectly Imperfect

2. The Wages Of Sin...

The wages of sin is death, but so is the salary of virtue, and at least the evil get to go home early on Fridays.

~Terry Pratchett.

***

His feet tapped on the white tiles outside the principal's office, his hands fidgeting in his hoodie pockets as he unconsciously bit his bottom lip. He could hear the hands of the wall clock synchronise with his heartbeat.

Thump...tick...thump...tick...THUMP!

The secretary stared down at him, nothing but pity in her eyes as she frowned at his obvious fate.

As Marcus sat on the lonely bench, he tried to weigh the possible outcomes of his predicament. On one hand, and the most likely was his mother being summoned, and on the other - suspension. Neither put a smile on his fallen face.

His last resort was a punishment offered by the school and the possibilities of that happening were a thousand to one, but a boy could dream.

Marcus shifted uneasily in his seat and sighed heavily, attracting the secretary's attention.

She eyed him over her elderly glasses and shook her head. Obviously, she was used to seeing him on that same seat. The young boy couldn't keep his hands away from trouble. It was as if he had made a pact with it to become one. She turned her head away and sighed. The troublemaker deserved what was coming to him.

The principal's door swung open and Marcus froze. For perhaps the thousandth time, he saw the layout of the principal's office, or what the students at Arabella called the Chambers. The sight of it still made his bones shiver, no matter how many times he kept coming back.

Nilla and Meg walked out, laughing and chatting to the shock of Marcus.

They paused and sized him up, then hissed and walked away. Amazing how the hate of one boy could reunite two enemies.

Noticing his cue to enter the office, Marcus stood to his feet and made his way in.

"Well well well. If it isn't The Shade Room of Arabella. Take a seat."

How the heck did he know about The Shade Room?

"Now..." the principal dragged. "Of all the things you could do Marcus, may I get a clear explanation of what inspired you to incite those two wonderful girls against each other?"

The words rolled off his tongue in the same dull pattern it had for the past thirty years, the passion behind them a mere ghost of what it once was.

It was the Principal's job to look into cases like Marcus', and that's how he took it. A simple job. Nothing more, nothing less. He never gave them his full attention, because more school attention meant less Arsenal football matches on his office computer.

Marcus studied the principal's bored expression and decided to speak up.

"Those two had it coming for them sir. They have been feuding for like forever. I just wanted them to settle their scores and be done with. In fact, I was actually doing them a favour, not inciting them against each other."

'If he'd already thought I was a bad kid there's no use trying to prove myself otherwise,' Marcus had told himself earlier.

William looked at the boy contemptuously. "I find no logic in your explanation. Although I would understand why you did that, it's been a while since I've had you in my office on the count of inciting a fight, especially one between girls. However, it is only fair that you be punished for your gross misconduct. So starting today until the end of this month, you are to extend your time in school helping in scrubbing graffiti off various parts of the school. You can start with the toilets today."

"That's not fair! Today is only the second of May. The end of the month is like a million years away." Marcus' eyes shone wide as he spoke.

"Young man—"

"Plus...plus you can't have me working in those toilets of yours. It's child labour. Who ever works in a toilet? They are meant for certain purposes only!"

"If you are done," William snapped. "You can make your way to Mr Stevens office where he'll write a letter to your parents informing them of your extension. You may leave now."

Marcus' shoulders dropped as a small frown formed on his lips. "Can't ....why can't you write the letter yourself?"

"Because I don't want to. Now leave my office."

Marcus walked out of his office hurriedly, lest he be called back a another load of punishment added to his back.

A satisfactory smile on his face, he winked the secretary goodbye and headed for Mr Stevens' office.

As bad as it had been, it was still better than what he had expected.

Take Justin Bieber and add sixty pounds on him. Make his hair way less perfect. Take off the smooth skin and add some acne. Shake the bone structure a bit and add a few inches of height. Wipe away the smiling face and replace it with a grim overly beaten up face and you'd have Arabella's Deputy principal, Mr Stevens.

In short, he was not a lovely sight to see. One could admire the magnitude of love his wife had for him to survive it.

At Arabella, no one dared cross the same path as the troll, making it the students' objective to avoid him.

"How dare the principal send me to him?" Marcus grumbled. He came face to face with the dreaded door and froze. With a deep inhale he knocked.

A minute went by and he summoned enough courage to try the handle.

Marcus scrunched his nose as the stench of depression hit. The windows were shut, blocking any path for the sun's rays. Mr Stevens was hunched over his desk, his hands supported his chin as his eyes narrowed at Marcus, his award-winning frown plastered on his face.

"You're Marcus Smith?"

"Y...ye..yes yes sir."

Steven's grunted, then went ahead to grab a blank piece of paper from his disorganised desk. He scribbled down, folded the paper haphazardly and shoved it in a large envelope.

He then handed Marcus the envelope and motioned with his head for him to leave his office. Marcus jumped to his feet and shut the door behind him.

He stared at the envelope in hands and looked over his shoulder at the door.

"Well, that was really civilised of you, Mr Stevens."