Behind the mask

Flirting with danger

It wasn't as if he didn't know the way to the Principal's Office: he had been enough times during the previous years to know the way but there were plenty of good reasons to delay. So instead, he went to the bathroom and stared at his reflection for a long time while he calmed his breathing and tried to process who he reacted: the pale face with fading freckles, forest green eyes and tousled auburn hair stared warily back. It was the face of a loser, of a nobody. He splashed water onto his skin and then sighed. He couldn't put it off longer.

Marsha, the secretary, looked up as he walked in and cocked a well-pencilled eyebrow, her plump face moving into a weary expression.

"Starting a little early, aren't we?" she asked. "Not even lunchtime on the first day. A new record, Mr Haddock." Hiccup nodded and sat silently as far from the door to the office as he could manage, shoulders hunched and head bowed.

"I like to challenge myself," he replied sarcastically, keeping his voice low.

"He's in-and I'm sure he'll be overjoyed to see you," she riposted. He nodded absently, his eyes staring at the floor. She lifted the phone and murmured a few words-and then she looked up. "He'll see you now. Go on in!"

With great reluctance, Hiccup levered himself to his feet and grabbed his bag, then knocked quietly at the door and heard the rough voice invite him in. He squared his shoulders and walked in, quietly heading for the desk. The huge shape of Mr Treacher glared at him and he stopped by the chair. The Principal was a huge man, his jet hair, huge bushy beard and eyebrows all jet black, his eyes dark and face cold and stern. His face twisted into scowl at the sight of the boy in front of him.

"What are yer doing 'ere, 'Iccup?" he growled. The boy flicked up his rebellious green gaze.

"Had a disagreement with my Math teacher," he admitted. The huge man scowled. "Sir."

"Yer need ter learn yer manners," Mr Treacher told him gruffly. "Mr Mildew 'as messaged me: yer were not paying attention in class: yer refused ter 'and over a book yer were drawing in and yer struck 'im." His voice was angry.

"It's my Art notebook. He was going to take it from me." The words were angry and defensive. The Principal rose abruptly, walking menacingly towards the lean shape facing him, slump-shouldered and defensive. He extended his hand.

"Give it ter me, boy!" he ordered. Green eyes flicking up briefly, Hiccup fished the book out of his bag and, after a long moment, he handed it over. The Principal looked at it for a long moment, knowing the book would be part of the boy's coursework for his Art classes that year-then he deliberately ripped it in half. He walked back to his desk, dumping the wreckage in the bin. "SIT!" he commanded. Hiccup stared at him, a betrayed look in his eyes, then perched on the edge of the seat, his eyes inspecting the carpet. "Nothin' ter say for yourself?" Mr Treacher sneered.

"I don't regret it," Hiccup said coldly.

"Yer will," Mr Treacher promised. "I should suspend yer...but it's only the first day and I suppose I could put it down ter youthful 'igh spirits..."

"Whatever," Hiccup shot back dismissively. The Principal's eyebrows dipped in a furious scowl.

"Detention every day for two weeks," he growled. "That should calm yer down and teach yer ter think before yer act!" The green eyes flicked up again: rebellious and verging on hatred. "Remember yer place, boy. Sooner yer do that, the sooner yer will avoid any more unpleasantness!" He glared at the boy again. "GET OUT! Go and apologise to Mr Mildew and report fer detention tonight!"

Hiccup trudged out without sparing another word or look at the Principal, merely tightening his grip on his bag and slamming the door behind him.

oOo