Page 19 of Something Rad
“My office, Mr. Summers,” he bellows. “Now.”
The smirk doesn’t waver whatsoever from Robbie’s face. He leans down slowly to pick up his jacket, like he has all the time in the world. After standing back up, jacket in hand, Robbie walks by Denise, leaning down to whisper something in her ear before continuing on. I can only see Denise’s side profile, but I don’t miss the way her teeth push into her bottom lip and her cheeks redden at whatever it was he had to say to her.
“Mr. Summers. Office!” Principal Whileyman repeats, more forcefully this time.
Robbie's gaze slowly shifts from Denise to the principal’s, and I swear he chuckles before he starts walking forward. He has the audacity to clap Principal Whileyman on the shoulder as he passes by him on his way out of the gym.
“See ya there, bud,” Robbie calls to him over his shoulder.
A few very long seconds of silence ensue before the entire gym erupts into cheers.
Principal Whileyman immediately begins shouting into his microphone repeatedly for everyone to settle down. But it doesn’t do much.
I glance to the doorway, seeing Robbie’s figure paused within it, slipping his sunglasses off and into his shirt collar. He hesitates there for a moment, his grin growing wider as he takes in the chaos he just caused. As he realizes the chaos he’sableto cause. I roll my eyes one again, but feel my hands involuntarily move into action.
I raise my camera, zooming in on his face. I capture it right before he turns away. Right before the door closes.
Click.
I capture it.
The look of pure satisfaction, confidence, and power.
six
ROBBIE
My head falls back as the school bell rings.
Everybody around me scrambles to grab their things and get out the door as quickly as possible. But I just allow my eyes to close, take in the sound of the scene around me.
I have to chuckle to myself when I realize that it doesn’t sound much different than a pack of mice scurrying after a piece of cheese, feet shuffling quickly against the ground and the squeaks of pent up excitement and chatter filling the air.
I don’t blame them. They’re teenagers. The very limited hours between 3:30 p.m. and bedtimearetheir cheese during the week. It’s Monday afternoon and they’re finally free. Free at this very moment to peruse an all-you-can-eat cheese buffet.
Free tocheesethe day, if you will.
Can’t say the same about myself, unfortunately.
No more cheese for me during the week.
Free afternoons, that is. At least not for a while. And though I’m not exactly thrilled about what my time after school will look like for the foreseeable future, I can’t stop a grin from coming to my face.
That performance was absolutely bitchin’.
Was it worth it in the end?
Maybe not. Not yet at least. But still.
Bitchin’.
I push out of my desk once I’m the last student left in the classroom, nodding in Ms. Wenzel’s direction before heading out into the hallway.
My interaction with Principal Whileyman after the pep rally last Friday replays in my head as I weave my way towards my destination, admittedly, a place I’ve visited less than a dozen times throughout my entire high school career, and definitely never by choice.
“Care to explain yourself, Mr. Summers?”
I lean back in my chair. “You want an explanation?”
