~Christian

"Mister Rodriguez, please have a seat."

Christian tentatively walked into a room that echoed nothing but the footsteps of the two walking men. He couldn't stop himself from turning his head side to side, as if he were expecting something from the shelves or the tables to leap out and pin him down to the ground in one fast move, just as Ace did; his eyes darted side to side, from one direction to the other in a frightened, fast pace. He was feeling extremely cautious and aware of his surroundings, as if he were walking into an unknown cave filled with hidden creatures, and secret suprises.

How come, though?

Deep down, he knew the answer.

He is nervous.

But why?

Well, when first thinking about it, he never walked into the principal's office before, especially due to a fight or another violation against the school's code of conduct, or any type of rule, really. He has always managed to get himself out of trouble before his actions would lead him to an office referral. In here, however, he didn't feel like the confident, mighty and triumphant young man he was when he fought Ace. He felt like a suspect in a court with hundreds of eyes staring accusingly at him; a suspect of a local crime scene.

He felt all of his glory and pride getting sucked right out of him the moment he laid foot on the floor of his principal's office.

Yet, to say the honest truth, he knew very well what the consequences for his actions were, so he really shouldn't be feeling this way. But something kept tugging his heart, something that made him feel sad, scared, ashamed, and, as well, guilty. He couldn't get a hint of what could be leading to this feeling, whatsoever, which made him a bit angry with himself.

Nonetheless, he sat down on a brown, comfortable chair that was placed in front of the principal's desk. He let his eyes dance about, wandering throughout the entire room with curiosity, but also to haste away his notion of fear and unease. After much observing, his eyes soon locked with a photograph of the principal, his wife, and an old, yet, beautiful lady, with a smile as sweet as honey behind them, hugging them both close together like there was no tomottow. Her warm eyes reflected love and the devotion of protecting them both with her entire life life. But what struck him the hardest was the stunning resemblance between the gorgeous old lady and the principal.

Could she be...the mother of the principal?

And that is what seemed to finally define the nagging of unease in his heart.

Mother...

Christian felt completely hollow all of a sudden; he felt sad and scared and extremely apprehensive.

My mother is going to be so disappointed! So much for not letting jerks like Ace get in my way today! So much for a great day! Christian cried out bitterly in his head.

In contrast to his explosion of emotions and thoughts that was buzzing about in his head, he was able to maintain a firm, steady gaze at the principal. He just hoped his eyes wouldn't betray him by finding the picture of the old lady, at least not during the time being.

"Mister Rodriguez, it...shocks me. You were never really known by students and teachers to have a perfect reputation, but never would I, or any of your past teachers or classmates, have dreamt of a day where you, Christian Rodriguez, would walk up to a student and deliberately try to beat him up. That goes against our school rules, you should know, and-"

"Mr. Oaker, don't you know that the student I was trying to beat up is one of the most deceitful, cruel and quite spoiled students in the ninth grade, possibly the entire school? It truly wasn't my fault, I-" he tried to explain, but the principal cut him off with a thundering voice.

"We saw you purposely trying to shove his face onto the concrete. He could've gotten a concussion, or a serious injury! And you say that is not your fault? You put a student's safety in risk and grave danger. That violates the top priority of this school! You should be ashamed of yourself!" The principal snaps incredulously to Christian.

"I didn't start it! That was him! He always looks for a way to hurt or humiliate me, ever since we were in elementary. See this scar right here?" Christian asked, desperately trying to convince the principal that it really wasn't his fault, although deep down, he knew he could've avoided the fight; he could've screamed for help.

And let Ace take home the honor and glory of humiliating you again? His mind counter argued. Christian had no time to say anything back before he could lose the opportunity of seeking his principal's support and understanding; he lifted his left hand and showed the brutal, black scar that ran from his pinky to the bottom of his wrist.

"That, was caused by Ace in sixth grade, followed by a black eye and, if I remember correctly, a concussion! Don't I have the right to act in such a way back to him, or to at least give him a taste of his own medicine? After all those years of taunting, bullying, threa-"

"Wait, let me take a closer look?" Mr. Oaker asked, now expressing concern all over his face.

Christian let him take his hand; he reminded him not to be too hard or rough with his hand. The principal suddenly looked up at him and asked,

"Did you tell your family or a counselor about this?"

"My family, y-yes, but not a counselor. I didn't want to look like a baby or a helpless kid, so I never spoke about and-"

"Christian, it's important to tell your counselor about these types of situations, or you may end up having bigger problems that will lead you to nothing but trouble, like this. Going to the counselor isn't showing someone that you're weak or helpless, rather, it shows you are smart and wise and careful of your personal life and decisions for the future."

When Christian remained silent, Mr. Oaker continued on.

"That problem between you and Ace could have been resolved a long time ago. You know our school strictly prohibits any type of bullying, but most especially the most brutal, which, in my opinion is the physical, whether you agree with it or not. I believe Ace would have either been out of the school system by now, or, at the very least, leaving you alone," Mr. Oaker said with a deep frown on his face. He sighed sharply, demonstrating his disappointment and, perhaps, a bit of pity for the teenager. Christian had a very bad feeling that he knew where this was going.

"I'm afraid to say this, Mister Rodriguez, but such actions like these, no matter the motivation, leads to the likeliness of suspension or detention. You might as well give your mother or father a call or text to tell them what happened," the principal said, beginning to stand up.

Christian widened his eyes and began to panic in his mind.

Great, I'm either going to be sentenced to a day of detention or suspension from the school. All because of one, stupid kid, he bitterly complained.

He especially did not want to disappoint his parents; his mother would be utterly heartbroken if she found out what he did; after all the positivity talks and her advice, telling or letting her figure out about the fight he had with Ace would make it seem that her efforts were not enough for him.

Well, Christian, you got yourself into this mess, so now you are having to face the consequences. Guess your slow self should have thought about that before, huh? He said to himself with disgust and disapproval.

But then his mind wandered on to something else: The fervid fire. The very fire he felt igniting in his chest, that exact fire that convinced him to take the chance and act against Ace. That fire that seemed to make him...stronger, and more confident.

"Oh! By the way, Mister Rodriguez, I find it quite shocking-you know, the strength you had to pin such a man like Ace," Mr. Oaker said snapping him out of his reverie, looking at Christian.

Christian glanced up at the principal slowly and only managed a sigh. After a couple of seconds pondering on such events, he said, "Me too. I'm usually not as strong as Ace- in fact, I never was- but I felt a fire, a strange, pulsing fire that spread throughout my entire body while I was being pinned by Ace. It seemed to have encouraged me to take such action, and also to have boosted my strength."

Then, he paused for a moment. He stared at the principal and asked in a small voice, "Have you experienced it before?"

Mr. Oaker didn't even take two seconds of thinking or recalling such experience before deliberately shaking his head, which almost disappointed Christian.

"I sincerely say, I have not heard of an experience or sensation as that before. I want to say it was probably your conscience, but I utterly doubt it." With that, he left the room where Christian was, leaving him to do nothing but tell the story of the small, hispanic punk who dealt harshly against his childhood adversary.

It could have been my conscience, but, like Mr. Oaker said, I don't think so. It actually almost felt like... a spirit! A mysterious, invisible spirit that lurked beneath my soul and provided guidance during my time of trouble. Oh, Christian, now you are just being very silly

Christian scolded himself silently for such thoughts and conclusions, but a huge chunk of him almost wanted to believe it.

Christian got up and reached the phone that laid on the desk of the principal. His heart was racing quickly; he really did not want to do this. He did not want to make his mother cry, or yell, or punish him, or anything that would put him in a worse situation. But then, what could really be worse than detention, suspension, and a possibly distraught, heartbroken beloved one at this point?

Sighing in defeat, he dialed her number gradually, taking a few deep breaths before getting ready to speak. If he spoke now, his voice would break horribly of the sadness and guilt.

If only the principal could actually understand! If only I could get a free pass on this one, or the opportunity to make it up so my family would never have to know!

That's when an idea hit him.

What if he could convince the principal to make up for the fight in another way? What if he COULD get away with the fight, just this once? All he had to do was convince the principal to let him take an alternative, and then he'd be free!

Oh, Christian! This is a horrible idea! It'll probably fail; what if you can't convince him enough? You're not Serena, you're not creative and smart enough to come up with an idea to get out of this mess.

As fast as the negative thought barged into the anxious yet hopeful mind of Christian Rodriguez, it took just as fast to push it away.

Christian put the phone down with a clank and called out to the principal in a loud, powerful voice.