you think you’re allowed to attend homecoming this year. You’re lucky you’re still even allowed to go to this school.”
I suppressed the urge to roll my eyes. “Oh, boo hoo. I was just kidding. I don’t care about that crap. When have I ever gone to a school dance? Trust me, not my cup of tea.”
Mr. Elliott pushed aside my file and clasped his bony fingers together. “Mr. Tyler, let’s talk.”
“Thought we already were,” I murmured, keeping my eyes down.
“It’s been my experience that children—”
“I’m almost eighteen,” I snapped in annoyance.
“Children are those who act with a certain level of immaturity and, I’m sorry to say, that’s you.”
I snorted.
“As I was saying, in my experience children,” he looked at me pointedly, “who usually act out are those who are suffering in their home lives.”
I shifted uncomfortably and shielded my eyes.
Mr. Elliott cleared his throat. “As you know, we have great resources here at school. I know at your age it may seem embarrassing to ask for help, but—”
I cleared my throat and folded my arms tightly around my chest. “I don’t need any help.”
The corners of his mouth turned down slightly. “We have a staff of great counselors who can help you turn that restless energy into something productive. You don’t need to go down this path of destruction.”
Productive as in smashing Dwight’s face in again.
“Listen, Mr. Elliott, I have no problems. I really have no idea what you’re talking about.” It was a blatant lie. We both knew it. Everyone in Bethel Falls High knew it. How else can you explain my clothes reeking of alcohol—not all me, I promise—and anger issues? Sure, some girls loved that whole ‘broken rebel’ thing I had going on, but honestly I would give anything to be normal. Just a regular schmoe—another Dwight…well, maybe not him. He’s a douche.
“I see…” Mr. Elliott’s voice trailed off and his eyes lifted, meeting mine. There was definitely pity in them, which I hated more than anything else. I’d take furious yelling over pity any day. He tapped his fingers against the desk and sighed. “As much as it pains me to say this, I’ll give you one last chance.”
I lifted my eyebrows in surprise. “What do you mean?”
“You screw this up and you’re out,” he clarified.
“Of homecoming?” I was skating on thin ice and I knew it, but nothing was more hilarious to me than the thought that I’d care about some bullshit dance.
His eyes narrowed. “Of this school, Mr. Tyler.”
I licked my lips and tried my hardest to maintain a straight face. As much as I hated school, there was no way I could get kicked out. Where would I go? What would I do? It wasn’t as if Daddy Dearest would take me in with open arms, and I sure as hell didn’t want to spend 24/7 with my mother.
“Okay…so, what do I have to do to stay in?”
“For you not to get into any more trouble!” He threw his hands in the air as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
No guarantees.
“Whatever.”
“That’s not all,” he interjected.
I let my head fall back and silently groaned. “I knew it was too good to be true.”
“I want you to volunteer for a school activity.”
“Wait, what?” I grasped the armrests and leaned forward. “I must have heard you wrong, because it sounded as if you want me to partake in extracurriculars.”
He shook his head in exasperation. “I think the only way you’ll learn to respect this institution is by promising some of your time and effort toward it. Seeing as your grades are surprisingly satisfactory—”
“What, do you really think I’m that dumb?” I snapped in annoyance.
His jaw clenched. “Don’t make me regret giving you this chance, Mr. Tyler.”
I pressed my lips together and looked away. Expulsion suddenly didn’t seem so bad.
He took a deep breath and ground out, “I’m sure you need some other stimulus to make sure you keep your idle hands busy and out of trouble. I think working with the school will be good for you. Teach you some responsibility.”
“There’s really no getting out of this, is there?” I asked hesitantly.
He shook his head. “I suggest you start looking for clubs to sign up for. They’re filling up quickly.”
“Surprisingly,” I murmured. This fucking sucked. Not only would I have to endure school during its regular hours, but I’d actually need to stay afterwards? So fucking lame.
Looking entirely too pleased with himself, Mr. Elliott scribbled some notes into my file and slammed