About a Girl

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How long I had been sitting in the school police officer's office, I had no idea. I'm sure bells had rung, and considering how many times different teachers walked in and out of the room, I wouldn't have been surprised if someone had told me that the school day was over. Time wasn't even existent in my mind at that moment; I was distracted, completely ignoring anyone or anything that was going on around me, but if someone were to ask me what I was thinking of, I wouldn't have been able to answer. Not the fight, not my injuries, not my record, not James, not my mom, not my probation, not Maya- my mind was off.

How long i had been sitting like that, like i said, i have no idea, but when Mr. Matthews, of all people, walked into the office, I was suddenly snapped back into reality.

"Lucas," he said.
After hearing him say my name that one time, i felt as if an entire person had left my body and I was back to normal. It sounds weird, but that's the only way i can think of to explain it- here i was, handcuffed in a chair of an office, with a police officer standing by the door and the dean sitting across from me, and then there was this man, this second father to me, who had only ever known me as the smart, kind, southern friend of his daughter, in the room amongst us.

"Sir," I replied. My voice was quiet, but my mind was back to normal.

"Lucas," he paused, and looked at me with an angry expression I had only seen him have on the rarest of occasions. "What was that?"

I felt like crying right there; he had asked me the question that at least 5 people had already asked me that day, but with myself back to normal, and him being the one to say it, i felt like I was six years old getting scolded.
I couldn't just shrug him off, I couldn't just lie and say something like 'the bastard had it coming to him' as if i was answering my PO after a slip up back in texas; this was Mr. Matthews.

"I had to." It was the most honest response i could think of.
There was a long silence before i continued, "I slipped up. I know I shouldn't have, but I'm telling you, i had to. He deserved it. He did. And i was so angry i just couldn't control myself."
The second that last line came out of my mouth i knew that i had said the wrong thing, but it was too late, they had heard it.
"You couldn't control yourself?" The dean questioned.
"That's not what i meant-"
"That's what you said, Lucas. I think that's what you meant." He continued.

Mr. Matthews chimed in. "Listen Lucas, i know you don't like talking about this stuff, but this is serious. If this is what happens when you're off of your meds, maybe it's not for the better."

"No! I'm sorry sir but no. Every single time i get angry or sad or whatever, everyone just automatically goes to the fact that I'm not on meds anymore. I get angry one time, I'm not a psycho! I'm sorry I'm raising my voice, but you know that."

"So why'd you do it?" The dean asked.

"Who said I started it?" I defended. Why i bothered defending myself, i don't know.

"Did you?" he retaliated. I was quiet, but that was all the answer he needed. "Lucas, what happened with you two, why did you hit him. What were you even fighting about?"

In my head I replied, saying, "We weren't fighting, I didn't want a fight. I wanted to hit him hard enough that he couldn't hit me back," but had i said that out loud, the court would have all the evidence they needed to send me to prison forever. Instead i remained silent, which, in the dean's mind, was an invitation to egg me on.

"Was it an ego thing? Was it a bet, was it about a girl, was it an ongoing thing... I've never seen you two even interact with one another before, so why the sudden violence."

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