Caleb.
Fresh paint and the scent of drywall dust hit my nostrils when I opened the principal's office door. With books in hand, I sauntered towards the desk. "Hello, Mrs. Wilson."
"Caleb, please have a seat," she said with an excited tone while stapling papers together.
Taking the seat across her, I looked around the office. Everything in the office was disorganized. Her desk was a mess. I could bury a body in here, and no one would ever find it.
"How was your winter break?" She had that kind of look, sort of like a cute puppy.
"Good." That is, if you consider your mom and dad getting into screaming, throwing things at each other, a good Winter break. All my Christmas break, I spent it in my room, alone, hearing my dad's yelling and mom's crying.
"Wonderful. "She said it as a statement, but meant it as a question.
Her lips flinched into an almost smile. "How about we shoot this straight?" she said. "Your score in the ACT and SAT are fabulous. Your parents must be very proud of you. I mean, your scores are close to perfect."
My test scores were the least of my concerns. Finding money, so that I can leave that place called home, was the worry that plagued my brain.
I stared at her, and she stared at me.
With a sympathetic look, she said, "I know what's happening to you, Caleb. And I am on your side. If you ever want someone to listen to your side of the story, I am always there for you."
I clutched the spiral metal binding of my notebook until it stabbed the palm of my hand.
She smiled at me before walking out the door. " Then I 've got a job for you. Wait here, and we'll discuss the details."
I was staring outside the window, lost in my thoughts when the chair next to me shifted, and my mouth watered from the aroma of hot chocolate cookies.
I snuck a peek and noticed black, silky, long hair.
Beatrice Borromeo.
I knew her, she was my only friend, when we were kids. Then she left one day. Reason I don't know. But now she is sitting next to me with her long hair falling till her hips. She wore a knee-length denim skirt and tank tops underneath that revealed just enough to get the fantasies flowing.
She stared straight ahead as if I didn't exist. Hell, I probably didn't exist in her mind. People like Beatrice Borromeo irritated the crap out of me.
"You've got a fucked up name," I mumbled.
Without uttering a word, she pointed me her middle finger.
Mrs. Wilson entered a hurry." Coming to the point directly, Caleb, I want you to tutor Beatrice. You can use any classroom after school hours I will permit you."
"What? Tutor her. Mrs. Wilson, I don't have time for this. I have to fill the college admission forms. You can ask someone else." I said her while getting up from my seat.
"I want you to consider it once again and think of the money which Beatrice is going to pay you, Caleb and you can leave your parent's house as you have always wished." Mrs. Wilson had a smirk on her face.
I looked at Beatrice once more before leaving the office. Great now she knows my secret.