can't help myself.
I don't like being messed with.
On Friday, I finally get my opportunity.
As I was making an appointment on the secretary's iPad, I surreptitiously scrolled through to see what days were generally open to students. Mondays and Fridays seemed to give the best options, so at the end of the week, I slip over to hide by the bathroom next to the curving staircase, and I wait.
When a boy strides by like he knows where he's going, I creep up the stairs behind him, pause just outside the stone archway that leads into the secretary's office, and then I wait. The two boys exchange words, and then the student sits down to wait. Ten minutes later, there's a buzz on the intercom, and the secretary stands up to open the door.
I dart forward, shoving past them all and stumbling into an ostentatious room with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, five throne-like chairs, and a long table meant to intimidate.
The secretary darts in behind me, panting and sputtering, but it's too late. I'm already standing here.
I rise to my full height, puff my chest out, and stride forward, slamming my palms onto the surface of the table, right in front of Church Montague and his shiny gold Student Council President sign.
“I want my locker put back where it was,” I demand, and he just looks at me like I'm not worth the lint on my jacket.
Speaking of …
“Untidy uniform,” Church says, frowning at me. “That's worth at least a day of detention.” He glances over at Ranger, the dark-haired dickhead, sitting on his right. His sign says Vice President. How nice. “Don't you think, Ranger?”
“At least,” he spits out, and I swear, I can see this bundle of dark shadow energy fizzing above the guy's head. “And bursting into the Student Council Room without an appointment?”
“Janitor duty,” the twins say in unison, sitting on opposite ends of the table. They both grin at me, leaning back in their chairs at the same time, like it's a choreographed routine or something. One has a sign that says Treasurer and one says Secretary. I guess maybe the boy from the front desk is like an assistant then or something?
“I make a motion to charge Chuck Carson with one day of detention, and a week of after-school janitor duty,” Church says, smiling at me as he leans back in his chair. It's actually a fairly nice looking smile, like either he really is a nice person who just hates me or … maybe he's a psychopath who's really good at imitating human emotion?
“I second the motion,” Ranger replies, frowning so hard I expect his lips to get stuck in his awful, ugly expression. He reaches up and tugs on the big black plug in his earlobe. He's got one on either side, and a handful of silver hoops on his right. Emo loser asshole, I think as I frown.
“You can't do that,” I spit, because this whole super powerful Student Council thing is not real. It's just a dumb TV trope that's in too much manga and anime. They can't actually punish me. Back home in California, they could barely manage to get organic vegetables on the school lunch menu.
“Can't we?” Spencer asks, speaking us as the twins chuckle on either side of the table. “Your father said we could punish you however we saw fit, for failing to help fix Church's project.” My mouth drops open. True, Dad and I have barely spoken a word to each other in the last two weeks, but you think he'd mention this? “I third the motion.”
“Agreed,” the twins say together, leaning their elbows on the table and grinning at me.
“The motion passes,” Church says, nodding his chin in Micah's—or Tobias', whatever—direction. “Make a note of it and have the headmaster sign off.”
The twin on the right, with the Secretary sign, gets to work tapping away on his laptop.
“Now, get out of the Council Room before I start adding days onto your detention,” Church says, clearly the leader of the group. Makes me wonder because he seems much less alpha than either Spencer or Ranger. “We haven't quite decided on the full terms of your punishment, but the more I look at you, the worse I want it to be.” He lifts up a mug of coffee and takes a long sip, sighing in pleasure.
“He's so short and puny,” Tobias whines, laying his body across the surface of the table. “Can't we just beat him up?”
“Yes, please,” Micah groans,