The Nerd Diaries: Harold (18+)

Eleven: The Principal's Principle

"Don't be here. Don't be here. Please, God. Make him be at the church talking to you."

I place my hand over my heart and squeeze my eyes shut before I open the office door. If there weren't already several other worse reasons why growing up in a small town just...sucks. I'd say this next one without a doubt tops the list.

I take a deep breath and straighten my shirt. And well, probably because of my horrible streak of sins as of late, my savior—most of the time—did not take my prayer into account.

Or, the pesky little devil butts in. He doesn't care anymore. I vote, walk out now and save yourself.

"Harold," Preacher and also Principal Augustine acknowledges me.

I can manage no more than a simple nod back before ducking my head and doing an entirely different walk of shame to the one last available chair in the room. The guy has known me and my family since I was in diapers. This is like confessing every stupid thing I ever did to my grandfather. Or worse, because he preaches to us about not doing exactly what we just did.

I'm the kid with his hand caught in the cookie jar and Christmas day's pie.

Exactly, shoulder angel mutters.

Hell. I try not to sink in my seat, or move at all really. Right by my side is Jean, by hers, Brad. I fixate my eyes on the floor because I'd rather not see the disappointment on Preacher Augustine's face, or the sadness I saw in Jean's eyes.

God, I just want to run. Even more than that? I want to hold Jean's hand.

I want to hug her, take her home, and just put this day behind us. I know that isn't going to happen today. I pray it will, anyway.

"I never thought I'd see the three of you here, and for the reason you are," Augustine sighs. "Who wants to explain to me why physical violence was the one solution to your problems?"

A knife could cut the tension in the room and it would sound a lot like a cinder block slamming into concrete floor. My face turns red, if at all possible, my body slouches further, and I want the earth to open up and take me to hell right now.

A very long, very heavy heavy silence takes place in the room. Deep down I hope he notices our obvious, or my obvious shame, and lets us leave.

That's not the case.

In a hard tone Preacher Augustine says, "Well, then I guess all three of you will. Whoever wants to explain themselves first can join me in my office. Neither of you are to leave until then."

I watch his feet move until they disappear behind his door. Great. Just perfect. At least with his focus on all of us some of my nerves weren't frayed as flip. One on one... I'm going to be a mess.

The sooner it's done with, the sooner you're absolved of your pathetic misery, the devil mutters. —forgiven for your sins, the angel quickly amends.

I sigh aloud. Maybe I should be the one to come forward, regardless. I did cause the confrontation, not intentionally, but still. And even if it hadn't happened, I still made the conscious choice to raise my hands against Brad.

So stupid, I think to myself. All I did was cause more problems. I'll probably be suspended, shunned at church for however long it takes everyone to move onto the next thing...and on the outs with Jean.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

Wiping my palms against my slacks, I prepare to stand and get this over with.

Jean grabs onto my wrist as soon as I move and pushes me down. I meet her eyes, lips parted in confusion.

"Look," she whispers, motioning behind her.