The Prince

Chapter Four: I Rocked A Pink Leotard & Tutu

Chapter Four: I Rocked A Pink Leotard & Tutu

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Well this is exciting.

"How're you doing, Mr. Johnson?" I grin an innocent smile, and spin around in the swivel chair. He strokes his clean-shaven face, his posture seemingly on edge, uncomfortable. His hazel eyes dart around the room.

"Where is Dane McFinley?" He asks, fiddling with his hands, nervous. How in the world does he conduct a high school when he seems scared of me? Well, I guess I could kill him here and now, but I wouldn't. Mainly because I'm not a psycho, but also because that would be gross and hard to clean up.

"I'm not too--" Dane stumbles into the room, holding a bag of ice to his black eye, scowling. "There's Dane!"

"No shit Sherlock." He grumbles, limping into the office. He stops right beside me, groping around for a chair. He seems to grab a hold of one of the swivels, but when he pulls it in to seat himself, the rollers spin away and he lands on the ground.

"Oh, clumsy, clumsy Dane." I tsk and shake my head disapprovingly as he props himself upright, and he grabs ahold of my tie, pulling me close as he glares at me intimidatingly.

"What did you say, Falls?" He growls, and tightens his hold on my tie.

"Dane. We should create a bit of space between us, don't want anyone else thinking you bat for the other team! Unless you do, which is perfectly fine, in fact, my uncle--"

"I don't want to hear about your gay-ass uncle." He lets go of me, in which I smoothly slide back into my chair, and he storms back to his.

"McFinley!" Principal Johnson cries, shaking his head. "We don't use those words here at L.V Rogers." Dane's facial expression doesn't change, as he probably continues to imagine beating me up, judging by the way his fists clench.

"Anyways, Sir, I was wondering why I'm here in the first place." I put on a confused face, as if the bruises scattering McFinley's body couldn't possibly be my doing. Mr. Johnson watches me, and I don't think he's caught onto my ruse. "I mean, I was just helping dear Dane over here up when some freshmen shoved him into the lockers!" I widen my eyes, shrugging. "They're quite vicious nowadays, aren't they?" Principal Johnson nods, soaking up all my lies.

"Fuck you." Dane mutters under his breath, and Johnson's head snaps up.

"What was that Dane?" He asks, furrowing his immaculately plucked eyebrows. (what dude has such nice eyebrows?)

"Oh, I was just thanking Xander." He replies bitterly, pursing his lips. "In fact, Xander is such a good helper, he should be a lifter for the ballet class!" He grins, and Principal Johnson's eyes light up. "I mean, he is rather strong. I've heard Madame Wilkins needs a good strong boy."

"Why, that's a perfect idea!" Johsnson chirps, his bright white teeth on display. "Whadd'ya say, Xander?" He asks, still smiling. Oh lord.

"Yeah, Xander. What do you say, buddy?" Dane grins, an evil glint to his eyes. What does Xander say? Xander says 'Fuck you Dane McFinley.'

"Sounds great." I reply between clenched teeth, a sad attempt at a smile.

"Well boys, I have no idea why Mason called me here, because it looks like you both will become the greatest of friends!" Can Principal Johnson seriously not see that Dane is staring pickles at me (much scarier than daggers, trust me,) and I'm trying to radiate my bad vibes to ruin his mood? "Oh, and here's a pass for your next class. Ballet commences right--" The bell buzzes, signalling the start of the next period. "Well, right now!"