Breaking Her Bad by Michelle Mankin

 

 

 

 

 

Kyle

Sitting beside me, Claire had a wild panicked look on her face.

“Play it cool,” I said low, and she shifted in her chair outside Mr. Garrett’s glass-enclosed office.

“My mom’s gonna kill me,” she whispered, though it was doubtful the principal could hear us. Belinda was in his office with him and Couch Carlisle now, and the discussion was loud.

“You might not get in trouble.” I scooted my chair closer and put my hands on her arms. She glanced down, probably feeling the same ripple of electrical current that I felt touching her, even with all we had going on.

“Oh, I will.” She licked her dry lips. “Mr. Garrett already gave me a warning the first time I got into a fight with Belinda.”

“But she started it.” I gestured to Belinda.

“Doesn’t matter.” Claire’s eyes widened. “We’ll both get punished.”

“Why the fuck does that follow?” I snapped.

Finally, she fully focused on me. “No-tolerance policy for violence.”

“What the hell is that?” I gave her a blank look.

“At Lakeside High, if you’re involved in a fight, you get suspended. Both parties get punished the same.” Her brow creased. “Doesn’t Southside High have a rule like that?”

“Are you kidding?” I scoffed. “If they did, all the students would be out on the streets and the school would be empty.”

“Oh.” Her lips rounded.

“Babe, I’ve been in this situation loads of times. Let me do the talking.” I stroked her skin, drawing tiny circles on her hand.

Claire narrowed her eyes. “Not letting you take the blame for my screwup.”

The principal’s door opened, and she withdrew her hand. Coach Carlisle came out with his hand wrapped around Belinda’s arm.

“Puta!” Belinda lunged at Claire, and I stood, inserting myself between them.

“I got this.” A uniformed police officer strode toward us, clucking his tongue. “Lindy, Lindy.”

“Officer Smyth.” Belinda gulped, seeming to shrink in size.

“This is your second weapons violation.” Withdrawing a pair of cuffs, he snapped them on her wrists. “Let’s go.” After a cursory glance at Claire and a longer one at me, he turned, leading Belinda away.

Coach Carlisle glanced our way. “Mr. Garrett will see you now,”

“C’mon.” I turned, offering Claire my hand.

“Not you, Mr. Murphy.” Mr. Garrett frowned. Filling the doorway to his office, he shook his head at me. “Not today, anyway. Go on to class. Learn something.”

“Yes, sir.” I tried to catch Claire’s eye, but she was no longer looking at me. I didn’t take offense. Mr. Garrett had a way of sucking all the attention and the oxygen from the room. My woman looked light-headed.

“Come in, Miss Walsh.” Mr. Garrett gestured and took a step back.

When Claire stood and went in, I reluctantly left the office.

• • •

Claire

“Sit down.” Mr. Garrett’s deep voice rattled both me and the glass walls of his office.

“Okay.” I collapsed into the closest chair. The hard plastic was still warm. From Belinda or the coach, I didn’t know.

Apparently, I didn’t know anything. I’d thought I was doing the right thing earlier, showing Kyle that I could take care of myself. Right now, I wasn’t so sure.

As Mr. Garrett moved his large frame around his desk, I tried to breathe normally, but I felt like I might pass out.

“Do I need to call the nurse?” His chair creaking as he sat down, Mr. Garrett narrowed his coffee-brown eyes at me.

“I’m not injured.” Not today, at least.

“You look a little pale.”

“Just nervous.” I licked my dry lips. “I’ve never been in the principal’s office before.”

“I know you haven’t.” His elbows on his desk, he opened a thin paper file and ran his hand down the single page, then glanced up at me. “Nothing in here but glowing accolades.”

My eyes shiny, I nodded. “Before today, I guess.”

Watching me closely, he pulled in a breath and exhaled it before he spoke. “You didn’t start the fight.”

There was enough of a question in his tone that I thought it would be wise to clarify. “No.”

“But you were going to finish it, is that it?”

“Yes.” I lowered my gaze. “She . . . Belinda slammed the locker door on my hand yesterday. And she jumped me the first day of school. She—”

Mr. Garrett raised a hand to stop me. “Belinda’s sins are many and known. I hoped for better but . . .” He shook his head. “This is about you right now.”

He tapped my file. “Your grades so far are excellent. I hear good things about your conduct from your teachers. I was worried after the first incident with Belinda that you wouldn’t be able to settle in, but you have. You and Miss Rivera have become friends. And she isn’t your only one.”

“No, she’s not.”

“You also befriended an outcast. And a loner. And a newcomer like yourself.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Kyle. Chad. Tommy. They’re your friends, are they not?”

“Oh. Yes, they are.” I nodded. “But we’re more than those labels.”

“I know you are.” His eyes bright, Principal Garrett leaned forward. “But others don’t. They don’t take the time or make the effort to see the world or the people in it differently than they’re told to. Do they?”

“No. I guess they don’t.”

“I knew you understood.” He nodded approvingly. “Or you wouldn’t have befriended Miss Rivera and the others the way you have.”

I didn’t disagree, though the same could be said about my friends. “Missy put in the time and effort to see me differently. She’s a great friend. My best friend.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” He steepled his fingers. “Did she suggest you dress the way you have today?”

“No, sir.”

“Mr. Murphy, perhaps?”

I shook my head.

“Hmm.”

I hung my head. That hmm was condemning.

“I know you’ve had a big upheaval in your life,” he said softly. “But I also know you’re a beacon for those you’ve befriended. So, the way I see it, it’s you who need to decide. Are you going to let your circumstances dictate your behavior? Or are you going to change your circumstances?”

I lifted my head to find his expression as soft as his voice.

“I’ve never thought of it that way,” I whispered, sagging in my seat. All my energy seemed to have been channeled in the wrong direction.

“Don’t be discouraged, my dear. We all have missteps. The trick is to correct them and to do it quickly.”

“Yes, sir.” I clasped my hands tightly together and sat up again.

“We could use more students like you in my school.”

“More like me how?” I asked.

“Unifiers, not agitators.”

“But today—”

“Today you made an out-of-character move.” Mr. Garrett’s eyes narrowed. “Would you say that’s right?”

I nodded.

“It’s okay to be tough, Miss Walsh. In Southside, an ability to roll with the punches is necessary. Sometimes even to return them. But don’t spend all your time and energy trying to be like everyone else. Be different. Make a difference.”

“How, sir?” I asked.

“By being yourself.”