Storybook Island

+ Average, Average, Average...

"Yeah, but my revised version fits the situation better. Way to kill the joke, Abby." 

The hallway continued on until it came to an abrupt stop at a large wooden door. You know how in the movies, they always make the principal's door huge and looming? Well, our principal's door really was just like that. With a glance at each other and a timid knock, the door swung open to reveal Mr. Scones. 

"What do you need, Mademoiselles?" said Mr. Scones, but with his thick French accent, it sounded more like 'vat do you need, Mademoiselles?'.

I looked at Meghan. Meghan looked at me. Then, her eyes lit up, as if she had a brilliant idea. "We were sent down here by Mr. O'Donnell. He wanted us to wish you Happy Birthday."

Mr. Scones touched his chest and beckoned us inside. "Sit down, sit down! Macaron?"

"Sure!" we chimed in sync. He offered a plate with multicolored Macarons on it, small leaves crafted from sugar on top. Meghan carefully selected a pale green once, and I a pastel purple. Mr. Scones popped a pink on his mouth and sat down at his desk. 

"I am so glad Mr. O'Donnell remembered!" He said, smiling. "No one ever remembers to wish me Happy Birthday!"

Meghan pointed up at the TV. "Well, they said it on the announcements."

"Oh," Mr. O'Donnell's face fell and he stuffed in another macaron, blue this time. People joked that Mr. Scones ate his problems away since he was portly, but I didn't see anything wrong with it. I ate my problems away. Like when I didn't get on the volleyball team, I ate a pizza. And when I didn't make the cheerleading squad, I ate a pizza. Then, when I didn't make the advanced jazz band, I cried and ate a pizza. And when I didn't make the spell bowl team, mathletes team, art club, school musical, and the pottery group. My mom runs the pottery group, and the art club was free admission. 

Meghan made an awkward attempt to change the subject from Mr. O'Donnell's tragic birthdays. "So, are you coming to the track meet after school today?"

"Well, I was supposed to go out to birthday dinner with my wife, but she ended up canceling. She had too much to do at work. So, I guess I'll come." Mr. Scones lamented. His eyes darkened with sorrow as he ate an orange macaron. 

"Oh, I'm sorry. Do you normally go for a birthday dinner?" I asked sympathetically.

He shook his head. "No. My wife always has work. I normally just have a slice of cake and sing Happy Birthday to myself."

There was a long pause. "The Mars Rover also does that." Another long pause before the phone rang. 

"One moment, girls." Mr. Scones picked up the phone. "Hello? Charlotte? Char- Charlotte? Wait, Micheal? Charlotte, no! Wait, I-"

He stopped and slowly hung up the phone.

Slowly, he whispered, "My wife hasn't been doing work. She's been doing Micheal."

The silence in the room was deafening.

"Who's Micheal?"

"Abby!" Meghan cried. She grabbed my arm and yanked me up. "We should get back to class. Goodbye, Mr. Scones!"

He looked up sadly. "Au revoir, girls." As the door swung shut, we could faintly hear quiet crying and the tune of Happy Birthday coming from his office.

We went straight to our lockers to grab our things and go. Mr. O'Donnell would be suspicious if we came back. The passing period bell rang as we shoved our way out the door.

"How are we supposed to get home?" I asked, looking around the school parking lot.

"Good question. We could walk..."