Prologue
Alex‘s POV
“Quite the track record you’ve got here, Alexander,” Mr. Jacobs said, raising an eyebrow as he flipped through my file.
“It’s Alex,” I said, rolling my eyes.
“Kicked out of eight schools in the past seven years?” Mr. Jacobs continued as if he hadn’t heard me.
I leaned back in the hard plastic chair, crossing my arms. I gave him a cool look, silently challenging him. “Yeah?” I asked carelessly.
Mr. Jacobs sighed, laying down the papers. “Alexander, this is your last chance,” he said bluntly. “You have been kicked out of all the schools in the district, except for this one. I’m afraid, if you mess this up, we’ll have no choice but to send you to a boarding school- somewhere they can… correct your attitude.”
“My attitude is perfectly fine, thanks for asking,” I growled at him.
Frowning, Mr. Jacobs flicked open my folder and put his finger on one of the pages. “It says here you were kicked out of your last school for punching your principal in the face as he tried to give you a detention for vandalizing school property.”
“He was asking for it,” I said, scoffing.
Mr. Jacobs took a deep breath, shutting his eyes and rubbing his temples. His light brown hair was graying at his temples, and he looked old in the thin rays of sunlight coming in from the window. I waited, rather impatiently may I add, while he sifted through his thoughts, trying to decide what to do with me. I’d seen that look on his face a million times, from a million different adults who had had to deal with me.
“Here is your schedule, Mr. Hunters,” he said finally, handing over a thin sheet of paper. I took it, giving it a quick look over as Mr. Jacobs continued speaking.
“The first bell rings at 8:05 tomorrow; please don’t be late. School ends at 2:56. Your locker number is 192. The combination is written on your schedule.” He stood up, crossing his small office to open the door for me.
I stood up, crumpling the schedule in my fist as I went. Striding across the room, I burst out into the empty hallway, my worn tennis shoes squeaking on the newly cleaned tile floor. Rows of lockers stretched out on either side of me, hundreds of them. I wondered vaguely where 192 was.
“Oh, and Alexander?”
Clenching my jaw, I ground to a halt, glancing over my shoulder at Mr. Jacobs, who was leaning out of his office.
“Remember what I said,” he called to me. “And please try to behave yourself.”
Not even attempting to hide the groan of annoyance that escaped from my mouth, I whirled around and stomped away from him, trying to escape the school I would soon call my own.
How many times had I heard that phrase? Behave yourself, Mr. Hunters, or I’ll have to report you to the Principal. And how many times had I cared?
Zero.
You could say that I was more than sick of all the schools in this district. They were all the same, and none of them did absolutely anything to help me. Everywhere I went, it was just snobby rich kids and pushy teachers. I was just tired of it all.
And this school would be no different, I’m sure. How long would it take me to get kicked out of this one? It would just be the same story as all my other school experiences.
If only I had known how wrong I was.
