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Silence.

The only sound in the room is the expensive looking designer clock that hangs in the centre of the back wall. Mr. Henderson's office is big and full of modern furniture - a pure oak desk, sleek black filling cabinets and even a little corner where he keeps his coffee machine and microwave.

There's two fabricated sitting chairs positioned in front of his desk; I happen to be occupying one of them, whilst trying my hardest to look anywhere at him - since he's been giving me a withering stare for the past five minutes as we sit in complete silence.

I bounce my leg up and down in nervousness and grip the sides of the chair so tightly that my fingertips start to turn white. He hasn't spoken a single word to me. He's just sat back in his chair and is observing me with a thoughtful expression, watching me desperately hold in the squirm that is itching to come out.

For five minutes we sit like this. My heart beats in my chest like a jack-hammer. Sweat cascades down my neck and dampens the hair that has come loose from my ponytail - it takes everything in me to not lift a hand and rub it away, but I don't dare move. Or make a sound.

Mr. Henderson has quite a ruthless reputation. In only a short few months of him being here, it has been known for him to have a quick temper - especially when dealing with delinquents or students that disrupt other students learning time. The stories about him paint him out to be a man with little patience towards misbehaviour. And with intimidation doing sprints throughout my body, a big part of me understands why even the bad boys of the school openly admit to being afraid of him.

Also, the small part of me (which isn't trying to hold back tears) can't help but feel slight anger towards coach Mathews. I thought he was on my side - he has always been so kind and patient with me throughout the years that I didn't expect him to throw me into the fire like this.

If I ever come out of this office alive, he's going to wish he never set me up like this.

Finally, after another long five minutes, there's a knock at the door and a sheepish looking receptionist peeks her head into the room and pushes her square framed glasses further up her nose. "Here's the other student that you had asked for, sir."

She pushes the door further open and in saunters Tyler Black who is now supporting a bandaged nose and a slight purplish left eye. Guilt and amusement clash together again as I look at him. I want to just burst out laughing at how ridiculous he looks, but I also want to speak up and make sure that he's OK.

I don't do either. Instead, I cast my eyes forward and wait for him to sit himself next to me, ignoring the venomous glare that he sends my way. He keeps quiet too. Neither one us makes a sound; we both wait for Mr. Henderson to speak up first.

With an exaggerated sigh, Mr. Henderson takes out two files and smacks them down onto the table, both mine and Tyler's school photos stare up at him.

"Carter Jane Fray," He starts, reading the words on the paper. I gulp at the use of my full name. "It says here that you're a straight A student. You were on the student council for three years and according to teachers, a model student - one that is definitely going to go somewhere and be successful in the world."

He switches over to Tyler's file, "Tyler Graham Black," I can't help but give him a sideways glance. I never knew he had a middle name, "Like Miss Fray, over here, you too are a straight A student. You're the co-captain of the rugby team and despite some bad reports - it looks as if most teachers would describe you as hardworking and respectful."

He then opens his desk drawers and pulls out another file, this time our photos are stuck together, side-by-side. He finally looks up to address us both, a challenging eyebrow raised, "Now this," he points to the file, "Is a report I made your teachers make about the both of you. When you're together in the same class."

Oh no.

"Ok, but sir -" Tyler starts, sharing the same panic that I'm now feeling.

"Tyler and Carter - where to begin. While both are academically smart and are able to interact respectfully with others, it seems as if the two lose all of their manners and forget how to behave when around one another." Mr. Henderson begins to read, ignoring Tyler's attempt to sidetrack him.

"Carter is a model student - one that I would happily choose to mentor other students or even join the pastoral team - however when observing the way that she interacts with Tyler Black, she becomes the type of student that I would constantly have in detention and would sit at the front of the class just to keep her in check."

I stay silent, quite shocked at what is being said, especially about me. Mr. Henderson continues:

"It is clear that Tyler has grown up with manners and knows how to respect other students. However, when I have been forced to discipline him, it has always been when interacting with Carter Fray. He can be rude, disrespectful and is constantly finding ways to annoy the girl. These two students bounce off each other - they can't be in the same room as each other for less than a minute before they're causing a scene."

"There's plenty more where that came from, even the dinner ladies were able to make a report about the two of you."

"I'm sorr -"

He puts up a hand and silences the words leaving my lips. "I have always been aware that there was something going on between the two of you, but I had hoped that you would have grown up and sorted it out yourselves."

"But -" Tyler tries to say, but he too is stopped.

"If your reports weren't as good as they are, I wouldn't think twice about expelling the both of you,"

Holy shit. I'm about to get expelled?

"But," he continues, noticing my panic stricken facial expression, "you two have good grades, good behavioural records - when not around each other - and the teachers all like you being in their classes."

My heart calms a little in my chest.

"Instead of expelling you, I'm going to give you two months to turn your behaviour towards each other around. And to help support this, you will be going to the guidance councillor every friday afternoon to discuss your progress."

"A guidance councillor?" Tyler repeats, bewilderment clear in his voice. "Why do we need to see a guidance councillor?"

"Because she will be able to do activities with you that will ensure that you guys won't constantly be at each others throats."

I'm in shock. He really wants us to go to therapy together? Isn't that a thing that couples or married people do? We aren't either of those - not even friends. Does he really think that this will work - putting us in a room and forcing us to talk about our feelings?

What an idiot.

"And what if it doesn't work?" I dare to ask.

"I'll have to expel you. It's as simple as that," he informs us seriously, "You're both dismissed. Tyler - go home, let your face heal and Carter, you can go back to class."

And that's that. End of discussion.

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"Therapy!" My best friends hysterically laugh around me and look at me like I've miraculously grown three heads. I just sit on the bench and pout, replaying the whole conversation in my head again. It happened so fast, Mr Henderson didn't really give us any time to process what he had said before dismissing us.

Therapy. He wants us to go to the guidance councillor and share our feelings? It's like a recipe for complete and total disaster. Me and Tyler don't even have to be speaking to each other before an argument breaks out between us - and when we do talk - all hell breaks loose. It will take for pigs to start flying before we can sit in the same room and be nice to each other.

"He's crazy. That poor guidance councillor, she's being set up for immediate failure." Ryan shakes his head, trying to brush off the initial shock and amusement of my news.

The girls nod their heads in agreement and look at me sympathetically. "At least you're not getting expelled." Freya says, trying to remain optimistic. I shrug my shoulders,

"Kind of wished he did. This is going to be complete and utter torture. God knows what Tyler is going to say or do."

"Well, no matter what, we're here to support you. Even if Tyler doesn't listen to the advice given, if you show you're willing to try, Mr Henderson might ease up on you." Veronica explains calmly, giving me a reassuring smile.

"Thanks guys, I appreciate it. I have a week to prepare myself - besides what can go wrong? We're just going to be talking."

Despite the words sounding optimistic, I'm far from it. What could go wrong?

Just about everything imaginable.

God, how I hate Tyler Black.