The Last Lap

Chapter Eleven

I picked up my stuff and headed as quickly as possible. It was finally a good sign. Finally some progress for today. Before entering each hallway I made sure I didn't see Isaac. It was like a game of hide and seek. I caught a glimpse of his beanie outside of the office as he walked by with his friends. They were all laughing together and from this angle he looked peaceful.

What was a chaotic storm like me thinking I could ever get with a calm pond like him? It was impossible. I waited for him to pass a couple feet down the hall before I slipped into the main office doors.

A faint smell of disinfectant and warm vanilla sugar cookies filled the air. They always tried to make Westbrook High seem less of a prison everyday. Occasionally, it worked but then a boy would start play fighting with his friend or a girl would start a rumor and you were reminded of the hell that was high school. I couldn't wait to graduate.

"Hello, can I help you?" The lanky secretary greeted me, peeking behind her square framed glasses over her paperwork. Sticky notes clung to every sheet of paper and scribbles of numbers and names filled them. She did not have time for me or anyone for that matter.

"Uh, I'm Ema. I'm here to see the Principal," I explained, shifting my stance a couple times and lifting up my books higher. She nodded and pointed to his door. It was decorated with white and blue snowflakes, obviously celebrating the fact that it was winter. Tinsel hung from the front desk. They might as well have hung a Christmas tree and lights with the way they decorated.

I knocked on the door before entering. I felt nervous but calm at the same time. A weird in between where you could feel the bubbles in your blood but tricked yourself to think it was nothing.

"Come in," A deep voice called. As the plain, dark door creaked I noticed an even stronger smell of vanilla. The fluorescent light bulbs that hung from his ceiling were the only bright thing in the room. The rest of the furniture was bland and dark, almost identical to the color of his suit.

Principal Richardson was about as average a principal that you could find. Behind his shaved head and endomorphic body hung a board full of different papers. There were a couple Christmas cards from past years and pictures of what seemed his grandchildren. A small little picture of a couple faced him and the only thing separating us was his desk and a laptop wide open.

"Hi Mr. Richardson," I greeted him with a nervous smile. He looked at me with a blank expression but invited me to take a seat in one of the chairs across from him.

"I received your email and I found it quite interesting. I think you are on the right track but the..." He trailed off as he took a glance at all of me and looked back at the picture frame on his desk, "solution is not something that I think would be an option. We just don't have the money."

I frowned and looked at him, "We can fundraise. We did that for the new track jackets. I think that we can do it for at least a couple of students to come experience a semester at our school."

His lips pursed into a line and he looked at me. He splayed out his fingers and put them in a triangle shape, "Miss Muratovic," He addressed me with the wrong pronunciation, "I don't think that you understand that we can't afford an additional group of students. There is just not enough money in the budget. Maybe you should take the time to think about this."

I looked at him without any words. My chest felt heavy. I had no other ideas and no other people to go to. The drawing board was blank once again.

"So it's a no?" I asked in a low voice.

He shook his head, "I'm sorry. I can't go with this idea. I like where you're coming from. Just come back with Plan B next time. My email inbox is always open and so is my door. Ms. Frank can give you a pass in the main office. Have a good day Ema," He waved at me.

I picked up my things and lugged my way to the other room, defeated. I looked at him once more before shutting his door on the way out. There was no way I could go to class without bursting into tears so I walked myself to the weight room on the other side of school with my pass in my hand.