The Anti-Delinquent System

O n e : System activated

Picture of Chase attached! Dedication to random comment: _surreality :)

O n e : System Activated

"Eric Monroe, please make your way to the Principal's office immediately. Thank you."

The ring of the intercom is almost inaudible in the noise.

Students swarm through the school hallway, buzzing like flies, and the air is thick with the stench of perfume and puberty. The first day after Spring Break is always a bit exhausting: freshman kids with new class schedules, girls with bad tan lines gossiping about their vacations, and people throwing themselves in exaggerated reunions. I pause mid-step at the mention of my name and almost instantly, a freshman boy stumbles into my back, eager for their next class.

Eric Monroe? I shake my head a little and sigh. I've had three and a half years at this school and the secretary still stumbles on that extra a. I abruptly turn on my heel and battle back through the crowds towards the school entrance. I've been in school for less than an hour and somehow, I've already managed to catch the boss' attention.

I'd have to be living under a rock to have not heard the rumours about Principal Blythe. However, I guess it hasn't quite sunk in yet that I won't be seeing my favourite, four-chinned, booming Mr Boston stalking the school hallways anymore. According to social media, our ex-Principal took a vacation to France and decided not to come back. I don't blame him to be honest, I'd much rather sit in the sun and drink wine all day than deal with some of the goofballs at Lindale High.

However, Mr Boston's gain is our loss. Principal Blythe is supposedly a stickler for discipline and obedience. I've heard that his old school in Hamilton had iron-barred windows. Like a prison. I wonder what I could have possibly done to get on Blythe's radar within the first hour of the new semester. I'm a bit outspoken and cheeky in class sometimes, but I've only just come out of homeroom and I'm not exactly a magnet for trouble.

People greet me on my way to the Principal's office, but I don't stop to chat. As well as finding people's excitement for school exhausting, I'm also too curious. When I finally reach the school reception, I'm almost out of breath. The room is small, boxy and unsurprisingly vacant, aside from the secretary sitting behind a pale birch desk. Brian offers me a thumbs up as he spots me. I cross my arms over my chest.

"Come on Brian, I'm Erika, you should know this by now. Erika. The female. Not the Eric."

"Oops, sorry kid." Brian says, stretching. Our school secretary is in his mid-twenties, wearing an un-ironed polo shirt and a goofy grin. Brian is somewhat of a legend for being so down to earth and friendly, and he tweets under his desk more than any student.

"I'm going to start calling you Bryony," I say, rolling my eyes. "Principal wants to see me?"

"Sure does. Go straight in, Eric my man."

"Thanks Bryony."

I approach the large wooden door and knock tentatively. Knocking on the Principal's door is always quite daunting, especially if you have no idea why you've been summoned. A smooth bass voice beckons me to enter. I push open the door.

Immediately across from me, Mr Blythe sits behind a large mahogany desk. The room around him, once plush with warm furniture and potted ferns, is now bare aside from a coffee cup and some framed diplomas. The papers and photos of Mr Boston's children which used to be scattered across the desk are now gone. As for the man himself, he and Mr Boston could not be more different.

Principal Blythe is dressed in a sharp suit, with piercing grey eyes that somehow make me feel like a rabbit trapped in headlights from metres away. He looks in his late forties, his hair is peppered and thinning. There's not a smile in sight on his clean-shaven face.