Operation Awkward.

[00] Prologue

[00] Prologue

An exasperated sigh escapes my lips as I glance at the principal. The fluorescent overhead lights flicker slightly throughout the cold office. The distant sounds of people typing could be heard as I cross my legs.

"Miss Vericiano, do you have a problem?"

I snort. "Well, what do you think, Mr. Jenkins?" I ask, feigning innocence whilst tapping my fingers loudly on the armrest, effectively annoying the old man in front of me.

 “I think,” he begins, pausing. Beads of spit decorate his chapped lips as he starts to yell at me, “that you are a disgrace to the whole school.”

I smirk. "Oh, you do?" I cock my head to the side, continuing the innocent act. "And why is that?"

By now, the man is fuming. His nostrils are flared, sweat trickling down the side of his reddening face.  "Look, Ms. Vericiano, I don't like you and you -" 

I lean forward placing my elbows on the desk. "That's not being a good principal, Mr.Jenkins. You should love each and every one of your students." I mock, wagging a  finger in his face.

 "Amara,” he says impatiently, drawing out my name. His tone of voice was that of a parent talking to a toddler. “I realize you have emotional issues, but that does not allow you to set a bad example for the kids.”

I snort inwardly. Bad example? It’s not like the kids here are any better--trust me, last week a boy by the name of Sean O’Donnelly planted a video camera in the girl’s locker room. Faking a gasp, I put both hands on my chest in mock surprise. "What? But Mr.Jenkins, I'm a role model to everyone here at Monte Claire High."

He opens his mouth, most likely to shout more at me, but seems to reconsider because he closes it again. Instead, he rubs his temples before placing his hands back on the desk.

I raise an eyebrow at him. "Is that all, Mr.Jenkins?" By now I can't help keep the smug smile off my face.  

The man’s face turns to somewhat of a neutral expression, before he opens his mouth again, as if to say something. He straightens his black blazer, before fixing his blue tie, irritated. A small sound came out from the back of his throat before my parents chose this exact time to storm into the quiet office.

 Aww, shit.

 "Mr. and Mrs. Vericiano, please have a seat,” Jenkins said stiffly, before sitting down behind his desk. He took out large glasses with a shiny silver frame and put them on. He began typing furiously on his computer, squinting at the bright screen.

 My parents glared at me, before sitting in two stiff wooden chairs. My mother’s face is expressionless, but you can tell she’s trying to contain her anger with me by the look in her eyes. “What has my daughter done again?” She asks in a thin voice. Her posture is perfect and she’s wearing a crisp white blouse and ironed pencil skirt. Her hair is done perfectly up in a bun, with no stray strands betraying the large hairdo.

 My father, on the other hand, looks like Satan. Quite literally, actually. It’s like he’s about to unleash hell in the principal’s office--flames and all. He taps his fingers impatiently on Jenkins’s desk, waiting for an answer expectantly.

 Jenkins finishes typing, nodding at my parents before twisting the computer screen around so my parents can get a good look at it. It’s my attendance record, as well as my detention record. “Miss Vericiano here is held accounted in this semester alone for ninety-nine detentions, fifty absences, and sixty-seven tardies. An estimated ninety five percent of detentions have been missing Amara’s attendance.”

 It’s true. My goal was a hundred detentions, but ninety nine would have to do. I tapped my beat up Converse impatiently onto the hard blue carpeting underneath me, glancing at a Coke stain. My hands tore at the ripped tights I donned, before pulling at the sharp silver earrings that hung from my ears. I quirked an eyebrow at the principal, amused.

 My dad stood up, before crossing his arms, his face reddening like a pomegranate. He looked as if he was going to explode. Well, no, unleash hell and then explode. “What is the meaning of this?” He asked.

 “The meaning, Mr. Vericiano,” Jenkins told them impatiently, “is that I am hereby expelling Miss Vericiano from the school. Forever.”

 "What? You can't do that!" I rise from my chair quickly, making it fall backwards with a thud. Several people glare at me from their desks before going back to sipping mugs of coffee.

 "I already have, Amara."