The Principal's boy

It was a warm August day in the fifty-first year. A six-year-old boy with ridiculously styled hair entered the school for the first time. He has an inconspicuous gray backpack on his shoulders and his father's shoes on his feet. There are many new and unfamiliar people around him. Seymour enthusiastically looks around and goes straight where his teacher leads him. Mom went to work, and Dad didn't come back from the war for a long time. Sitting at a small desk in the front row, he smiled crookedly and got to know his neighbors at the desk and from behind. There were a lot of impressions. Happiness and fear mixed into delight. Skinner had been told many times about the quirks of school life, which had just begun. His mother always told him to be obedient and quiet, so the boy was rarely noticed. The first two years went relatively well. But people came and went. The class changed and Walter became an outcast. He didn't complain, he just endured it in silence. When the boy entered the third grade, a new principal came to the school. He was stricter and more attentive than the last one. He also headed the senior and secondary schools. Knowing this, bullies often framed him and Seymour sat in the ill-fated director's office almost every break. There was no trust in the boy from the director until he saw everything with his own eyes. Despite the fact that the principal treated him rather badly, little Walter still loved him, as did the rest of the school staff.
— Principal Chalmers, I told you so!  A very childish voice rang out in the scariest office in the building. — You never listen to me.
— You just piss me off, Seymour. You're infuriating and that's it. — Gary didn't think about what he said as he sorted through and collected the papers on the table. — God, what am I talking about. Sorry, Skinner, it slipped out. Hey, don't cry.  — Chalmers knelt down, looking at the sad and vulnerable third grader, tears streaming from his eyes. He spread his arms out to the sides, beckoning to him. Seymour literally rushed to the principal. — Oh, take it easy. — Gary laughed dryly but sincerely and patted the boy's head. He took him by the hand and led him to the exit. His mother, Agnes, was waiting for him there. So time passed quickly. The negativity towards Walter disappeared and they communicated well. The end of the fourth grade, almost May. Teachers still send a crippled Seymour with a disgruntled face to Chalmers. The same one once again sits with an unsurprised face and nods his head indifferently.
— They're hurting me again. Principal Chalmers, please do something. I won't survive breaking my arm a second time.
— I've already tried. Nothing has changed. Just be patient, my little boy. In the fifth grade, you will be divided into different groups. And in general, half will remain for the second year. And more... Why didn't you transfer to another school if you're being bullied here?
— I can't, you're here.  — He was a little embarrassed, clasping his hands between his thighs and looking away.
— Me? I didn't think the kids liked me. I hate everyone and I don't feel sorry for anyone.
— It's not true! You support me and even let me hug you.
— Maybe you're right. — He coughed into his hand and scratched his temple. — You have to go, and I have a job. Till tomorrow.
— Oh, yes, goodbye, Mr. Chalmers! — he got off his chair and ran out of the office, hearing only the words "For you, not Mr., but Principal Chalmers!"
Already at home, sitting at the table and having dinner, Seymour shared his experiences and feelings with his mother. Agnes sometimes did not understand her son and simply did not want to listen to the annoying boy. She just nodded as she washed the dirty dishes.
Two more short years have passed. Walter turned twelve and entered the sixth grade. The principal was right, the boy was less offended and bullied. But he got a new nickname, which was given to him because of his frequent visits to Chalmers's office - the Principal's boy. It's Christmas Day, but the students come to school for the holiday. Everyone gives each other gifts and Seymour did not stay away. He hesitantly knocked on the director's office. Upon hearing the approving reply, he entered.
— Hello, Principal Chalmers. — He closed the door behind him, hiding something behind his back. — I have something for you.
— Hello, Skinner. Thank you, Merry Christmas to you too. I'm already wondering what you've prepared.  — There was no sarcasm in Gary's voice at all. He stood at his desk and began to wait for further developments. Walter smiled so much that even his cheeks were covered with blush. He walked over and held out his hands holding a red silk tie. — Walter, where did you get it? Such things cost a lot of money!
— I've been saving up for a long time. I saw in your book that you would really like a tie. So I decided...
— I'm flattered. — Chalmers carefully put a tie around his neck and tied it. — I almost forgot, I have something for you too. — the principal opened his closet and took out a lilac shirt and safely gave it to Walter. — Try it on. I haven't seen new shirts on you for a long time.
— You spoil me... — the sixth grader was literally speechless and picked up a shirt. — how soft... Turn away, please. — Seymour quickly changed his shirt and signaled to Gary.
— Lilac suits you. — Chalmers smiled and adjusted the student's collar and did his favorite thing - patted him on the head. Skinner giggled, hugging the principal. — I will wear your gift with pleasure.
— And I'm yours! I will always wear this shirt. — and he didn't cheat. He wore this lilac shirt until the ninth grade. Surprisingly, shirt wasn't too small or short for him. The sixtieth year. The boy is already sixteen years old, and his beloved principal is thirty-one. The young man does not stop visiting the director's office, but he does it already for pranks. Sometimes he offends younger students or is rude to teachers. He throws food in the dining room and so on.
— What the hell, Skinner? What happened to you? Until the ninth grade, you were such a pretty, small and obedient boy.
— Chalmy, I've grown up. Of course, I'm already interested in other things. If I want to, I'll do it, you know.
— This has gone beyond the scope. No one dares to call me that. I really don't want to do this, but you're forcing me. — Gary, frowning, went to the door and locked it, at the same time removing the belt from his belt. He folded it and walked over to the student. Seymour's memory is gone. After screaming and begging on his knees to stop doing this, Chalmers stopped, throwing the belt on his desk and crossing his arms. He didn't stop being angry, but his heart was bursting with pity.
— Principal Chalmers, I'm sorry! I will never behave like this again, honestly. — The young man was trembling, huddled in a corner.
— I can't say anything. — He sat down in an armchair and began to observe the student. At first Seymour didn't move, but then he stood up, brushing off the dirt. — Go away. — and he left. That was the end of their conversation. On a bad note.
More than twenty years have passed. Skinner went through the Vietnam War and got a job as a principal. He was very surprised when he saw the superintendent at work. A familiar face, but graying hair and a bald spot. Really Chalmers...?
— Principal Chalmers? What an unexpected meeting!
— Do you still call me that? It's absurd. I'm not happy to see you. — He looked he up and down. — But... I missed you. — Gary smiled dryly and allowed Seymour to snuggle up to him. — Do I still see that damn purple shirt on you?
— I have good memories with her. Very good ones...
— You've grown so much. I hope you haven't gotten worse, like you did back then?
— No. I haven't dared since. I was very sad when you left my life forever. I am... I was in love. Yes, that's right.
— Are you serious? I'm fifteen years older than you.
— That's why I couldn't tell. I was just afraid. I was eight and you were twenty-three. Is it absurd?
—Absurd, my boy, absurd. — Gary patted him on the head. — I cared about you, too. And now you remain the same.
— Chalmy... Let me do this...
— I allow it. — After thirty years of rejected love, Walter has satisfied his desire. He touched his lips to the lips of his boss and tutor. The same one took his hands behind his back, taking control of the younger one. When they pulled away, Skinner's legs, and indeed his entire body, were shaking suspiciously. It made the superintendent smile. — Still, you remained an obedient The Principal's boy.