My feet have lost their vigor, sloping into madness with each step I pound into the variegated tile of the administration office hallway on my route to the principal's room for a crime that I shouldn't have committed in such a pool of anger but nevertheless did, because I've professed my duty as Dallon's friend many times before, and I will not surrender even in the threshold of punishment.

Yes, maybe I am to blame for abandoning Dallon so that I could retrieve my English book, for practically forcing him to wear concealer (even though he didn't), for overreacting to the mental health business card situation, for everything that skewed itself into a frenzy, but surely that was all because I'm Dallon's friend, right?

I'm being reprimanded for sticking up for a companion who did nothing wrong besides experiment with pills, and it's not like I wouldn't gladly do it again to protect him, but it's unfair that devils such as Spencer Smith still reign at this school, still peg anxiousness at our hearts, still slip away without a scratch on them or their permanent record, while I'm the one with the pink principal sheet being crumpled within my fists on my way to the office of a boss about whom I know little to nothing.

No one really knows anything, so we've fabricated absurd myths about him, like the idea that he is a vampire, or the idea that there is no principal and the school is being operated solely by his subordinates who only claim to work for someone, and though we recognize that this is all fun and games, it's stimulating to our phobia of him.

Principal Hall is usually hiding in the shadows of this school, never materializing in the corridors for any reason in order to save that opportunity for the rare assemblies that he schedules regarding community service and the occasional choral performance, but other than that, no one really knows much about him, besides the wild stories the frequent troublemakers narrate to us next to the science building in between class periods.

Everyone at this school is terrified of him, and I suppose that correlates to the fear of things that you cannot see, and because he's always lurking in his office, no one ever does see him, so an ambiguous nervousness is ringed around him.

I, personally, have never submitted myself to that peril of never trusting our very own principal, because I find no reason to do so. The teachers and administrators seem to like him enough to converse with the man, and though they're adults with more social skills, I'll have to side with them on that one. The kids are much more wary of Principal Hall, but that's because they're kids — immature, floppy, unguided kids — and the frequent troublemakers are, well, frequent, so it makes sense that their punishment is steadily increasing with each scheme they pull off, with patience excluded from the equation, and as a result of that, Principal Hall is crafted as a malicious monster who only emerges from his office to prey on the kids of this school. Everyone's fear of him is miscalculated.

However, now that I'm shuffling over to his office with a slip woven into my fingers which states that I'm an immoral person, that ginger beard of his is more like a trap in which to restrain me, that professionalism of his area is more like a deception, and that pen gripped in his hand is more like my future murder weapon. Now I understand why he's feared. Maybe it's just the paranoia.

Gathering the shards of my doubts before I begin my descent into hell, I knock frantically on the door until Principal Hall acknowledges me, invites me inside.

"Brendon," he says, voice marinating in menace as it spills onto a file that he's somehow selected without even knowing that I'd be here. "Please have a seat."

I've barely seen Principal Hall and am now in his office, yet the man is less amazed than he should be for these circumstances. I've never so much as nicked the boundaries of the law, never cheated on a test, never sassed a teacher, and my file should disclose that.

I've been told that I'm a good kid, by many teachers and administrators and all the suburban parents at dinner parties, and it's so unlike me to root myself in a principal's gaze after acting up. It's not so salient that I was being an upstander, like every video in middle school advisory classes directs you to be, because I overreacted and pushed a kid, despite the helpful intentions, and I'll be punished for it.

Is it that this man doesn't care about any of this, does he even know anything, or did he figure everyone ends up in his office at some point in their career?

Only wasting two seconds to ponder Principal Hall's peculiar apathy, I dubiously slither into the seat, hands embracing each other and curling in every possible direction to fuel my anxiety of the verdict.

"I've never seen you in here before," Principal Hall notes, finally vocalizing what I had been wondering about.

"I make a point of never getting into trouble."

"Yet here you are, but let's not focus on that. Your objective was probably ethical, at least." The man's back tightens from a ruler of civility, diverting the subject. "So tell me what happened."

A sigh of relief sags out of my lungs, doting on my new flexibility. Principal Hall has no idea what brought me to his office, what spiteful deed I plucked into existence that Mr. Way happened to detect, which means that I may depict my story however I like without it being discredited by the punitive sentence of a teacher — I opt for the truth.

"Yesterday I found Spencer Smith pinning Dallon Weekes — the new kid from France — to the lockers, but I dragged Dallon away before any more damage transpired." I wrestle with my words, repeating them over and over in my head, but they never sound just right. "Then today...Spencer decided it would be hilarious to give Dallon a business card to a mental health organization, and yeah — maybe that doesn't seem so pernicious, but he wasn't seeking to help Dallon, rather tease the veritable struggles that may or may not pertain to him."

Principal Hall is only somewhat lost, sympathizing with me and Dallon yet not quite comprehending why I'm in his office when Spencer was the actual perpetrator of the crime so far, but I continue.

"So in defense of my friend, I chased Spencer back and pushed him."

Principal Hall doesn't produce any sort of noise, only swivels to the phone and calls Mr. Way, whom he knows to be on lunch duty, to beckon Dallon and Spencer to his office.

Until the two arrive, our time is imbued with an awkward silence of tapping feet and fidgeting hands and sometimes creasing papers, but once the witnesses drift into the office, that silence is terminated.

Dallon's face is flushed and restless, and it pains me to observe such panic tessellating his skin, for he did nothing wrong, nothing to deserve a trip to the principal's office, nothing to ship this level of fuss to him, but he's present in the stench of apple cinnamon air freshener anyway, while Spencer's countenance is smug and just might induce something a bit stronger than a push, but Principal Hall speaks before it can.

"Brendon, I would like you to apologize to Spencer."

If Spencer wasn't arrogant before, he definitely is now, so my teeth are fettered in candid rage for him as I rise to mend something that isn't in any need of being mended, with words so deceiving that it fools even the principal.

"I would like to formally apologize for pushing you." Every hair on my head is as obdurate as possible, every ripple of emotion quelled so that I won't unmask the smirk of someone who just succeeded in fooling those around them, and Spencer believes me, if only for this exact day, because everyone with a brain is aware that we will forever despise each other and tomorrow will reset the clock, so for now we're suspended in an agreement.

Principal Hall nods to the alternate person in the room, not quite finished with us. "Now Spencer, you will apologize to Dallon."

All ounces of Spencer's cockiness are now but ghosts in the night, and it entails every dash of willpower not to beam at the bully's fate. If Dallon is amused, he doesn't show it, because unlike me he has at least a tad of respect for others and doesn't hope to perpetuate any umbrage between him and Spencer — that, or he has something else planned.

"Dallon." Spencer shoves the words out one at a time, like an industrial machine in a pretentiousness factory. "I'm sorry for being so rude to you."

"It's all right." And he smiles — truly smiles, though that could perhaps be the precursor to his plan.

Principal Hall claps once to signal the cessation of this feud, and he grants us an escape from his office, but before we go, Dallon halts by Spencer and, flicking out the business card, leaves a parting gift with the bully. "You can have this. I'm sure your therapist needs it back."

~~~~~

A/N: I DON'T THINK YOU REALISE HOW FUCKING SAVAGE DALLON CAN BE OML

Quaimz: Apple or Microsoft?

Aimz: idek I feel like we should leave these to the misogynistic 12 year old gamer boys who write reviews for products at school (yes, I've seen this happen)

~Dakapple