Blanche, as always, held her head high and stuck her nose in the air as she strutted through the the halls of Primrose Academy.

Her mouth was twisted into her signature 'Don't-touch-me-or-I'll-tear-your-face-off' frown because, quite obviously, she'd been angered by someone.

That was one thing about Blanche, she was always angry.

Whether it was important or not, Blanche would get angry over the smallest of things be it her hair was not styled properly or she didn't get what she wanted when she wanted it.

Blanche was often unreadable, nobody ever knew what to do when around her, she always seemed to give off a sort of aura that would throw everyone into a panic.

Of course, there were the few people who could withstand Blanche's aura of panic. People like her parents or people like the old geezer who insisted he was the principal and had sent for her.

That was the reason behind her anger.

The 'principal' had no respect for Blanche in any way whatsoever.

It wasn't because he was a grumpy old man, it was because he wanted to do something unimaginable to Blanche.

He wanted to change her.

Blanche hated him for that, she hated being in his presence, she hated talking to him, she even hated looking at him.

"Hn." Blanche scoffed as she slowed to a halt in front of the mahogany door that was the entrance of the old man's office.

Blanche, irrespective of the fact that he was her superior, simply pushed the door open without knocking and strutting inside.

She scoffed at how horrible his office was and sat in the red, leather chair. She didn't like the chair because it wasn't comfortable or expensive-looking, but she sat it in nonetheless because it was the seat farthest from him.

His average-sized, square office had coordinating wooden furniture. The floor was wood and the walls, papered. Light was provided by a table lamp and a ceiling light, not to mention a single rectangular window. The room was done in colors that reminded Blanche of a cloudy sky and overall had a quirky look. Among the first thing she had noticed walking in was tacky sculpture and an office toy on the desk.

To sum it all up, the office was that bad.

The old man, also known as Atticus Luke, looked at her with those horrid brown eyes of his. He clicked his tongue, a habit of his, and pushed aside the mountains of paper on his desk so he could get a better view of the blonde girl seated before him.

"Good morning, Miss Carla." He greeted to which Blanche scoffed and stuck her nose in the air.

"That's Princess Blanche to you and let's get this over with." She, in that English accent of her's, replied rudely, crossing one leg over the other and flicking her hair to one side.

Atticus's right eye twitched slightly but he didn't explode at her, just kept his cool and sat up straight. He cleared his throat and began to speak, Blanche shit him out almost immediately and began doing whatever she had to to keep her mind occupied while she waited for the ugly old man to finish speaking.

His office was boring, and he was boring as well. That was another reason Blanche detested the man, he was boring. She also hated him for the fact that he was nothing like grandfathers were supposed to be. Grandfathers were supposed to be sixty year old men with lazy blue eyes and a head of grey hair. They were supposed to be people who spoiled their grandkids and said 'yes' to everything their grandkids requested. They were supposed to be men that were always seen smiling. Finally, they were supposed to be tall, very tall.

But Atticus Luke was nothing like Blanche's grandfather. The man, in Blanche's opinion, was the worst human being to ever walk the face of the earth. He never smiled, never laughed, never gave Blanche any presents. He had horrid brown eyes and a head of black hair, not a single gray strand among them. Finally, he was unbelievably short. Atticus had a serious case of stunted growth and was merely three feet and eleven inches, the size of a three or four year old,

"You may leave." He said at last.

If Blanche had not been trained properly, she would've jolted out of her seat once and ran away faster than the Flash ever could, instead, she got up slowly and very gracefully, walked away, not caring whether or not what he said had been important or not.

She was free, and that was all that mattered.