UNPSYCHIC.

Case 01 :: Chapter 04

"Mr. Macaraeg, for your first day, you've been quite busy; late to your Ethics class and involved in a fist fight all before lunchtime." The Student Affairs Officer, Mr. Vaughn Guerrero, tossed the folder--which I assumed was my file--onto the desk before him. 

He reclined against his chair, the worn seat squeaked in protest at his weight, and steepled his fingers as he studied me. He looked more like a gangster you wouldn't wish to meet in an alleyway with his black leather jacket and with his shoulder length hair gathered in a small pony tail at the nape. Despite his young demeanor, there was no mistaking the years of wisdom behind his eyes as he gazed at me head on, possibly a scare tactic he perfected on his role.

I shifted at my seat uncomfortably as he continued to stare at me right across from his desk, cramped with piles of folders and other documents. It was a miracle he was able to look me straight in the eye. But everything about his office appeared cramped. It was more or less an eight by eight square footage of space with oversized furniture that didn't help improve the area. Behind me was a row of filing cabinets of different sizes and colors, while the shelves on the remaining walls were packed with books and other random knick knacks he must've accumulated over time. 

Straightening my shoulders, I cleared my throat as I tried to make my appeal. "With all due respect, Sir. But that student--"

"Is the only son of San Lorenzo's most generous benefactor." He finished. "Trust me, that kid presented a ten-year plan to me on career day during his senior year that's several times as thick as this file of yours."   

My blood coiled at this realization and I clenched my fists, trying to keep my anger at bay. "So in other words, he gets away with a mere slap on the wrist, even though he started it?" And here I thought dirty politics only remained in government offices.

"Hey, I'm not as happy as you are with how things are run here," He plucked a pack of cigarettes from his breast pocket and flicked a stick, offering me one. After a shocking minute, I gathered myself and politely declined his offer and just watched him light it with a match stick instead. 

"But you're gonna have to understand, kid,' he exhaled a cloud of smoke in the air, "that this institution has struggled in the past few years and it's only saving grace was a group of filthy rich philanthropists who'd figure out funding a historically well-known institution such as San Lorenzo could further their cause down the road." 

When I remained quiet, he leaned forward and rested his elbows on the desk. "Look, I could tell you're a good kid."  He flipped open my folder once more and shuffled through some papers while the cigarette remained jutted between the corner of his mouth, scattering ashes everywhere. "Top of your class since mid-school. Currently on partial scholarship here. And, I see that you've also completed a year and a half of nursing in Manila. What made you switch courses?"

Before I could answer, thankfully the door to the office swung open without warning, and Noelle trudged in, avoiding eye contact. I noticed that her right knuckle was carelessly wrapped with a gauze.

"Glad you can join us, Ms. Hunter." Mr. Guerrero greeted patiently as she slumped on the unoccupied seat next to me. Her expression remained stoic as she poured all of her attention to the bookcase at the side of Mr. Guerrero's head.

"Noelle," he began and extinguished the remaining half of his cigarette in one of those locally made wooden ashtrays with the phallic shape, which was discreetly hidden in one of the piles of folders. "Tell me what happened with Mr. Valencia's kid."

She remained silent, and dropped her gaze as she played with the hem of her hoodie. He sighed. "Noelle, you have to talk to me. You know the situation here. The institution has a zero-tolerance policy of fighting--"