To Manage Inner Fire…With Fire

It’s quite interesting how fast someone can get in trouble in less than 20 or so minutes. In the steps going by getting called out on, speaking back to the arrogant as frick teacher for correcting there grammar (I mean, aren’t teachers suppose to know some English to be an English Teacher?) then…detention.

Sorry. I said that like that was the last step.

Not only did I find myself in my lovely spot in detention….I trashed it. I mean, it’s not entirely my fault. Some girl and guy teased me in my frustrated state, and that frustration may or may not have turned into rage. Hot fiery rage that flowed wonderful and bright within me before withering into only a flicker of disappointment…and ashes.

And now I’m in the principals office, heaving heavy breathes which I try to turn even, though the lavender scented candle fuming throughout the room isn’t helping, and clenched hands I try to relax, doing my best not to think about the words they spoke of me—don’t think of what those actual delinquents spoke of me.

I can’t.

“Mrs. Rives.”

Ny body involuntarily flinches, I cursed at the reflex. I despise my birth parents surname, stupid system in saying I’m too young to change my identity. Not there’s to control, not even close. Ironic to think they set rules for such intangible things and not on more important to real problems.

Why should I care for a name when the holders didn’t care for me?

Like the foster care system.

“I believe you understand why your in heat today.”

I purse my lips, glancing up at the shining yellow tinted light, “Mm…nope. I really don’t, I actually think there’s been a misunderstanding. A frame if you’re will.” I give a lazy back thumb to the door for indication as I lean over the mahogany desk as if sharing a juicy secret, “I put my money on the kids in detention.”

“You where one of the students in detention, Ms. Rives, if I recall.”

“Oh yeah! Guess that was me.” I state with feigned exaggerated astonishment then give a small chortle as if flabbergasted, “Go figure, huh? Life is so full of surprises and sunrises.”

Chestnut brown eyes brows furrowed in something between confusion and frustration before closing his eyes, shaking his head, then opening them to look at me with consideration, “Ms. Rives—“

“You really like my last name, don’t ya? But do you have to be so formal?”

He has that flew right over his head, and it irks me how easily he ignores and deflects my snarky commentary, “Ms. Rives, I will not say I understand your side of the circumstances at your level, but from what I understand as one of your school staff and educators, I think you have something good from which you neglect.”

“And what is that, exactly?”

“Your intelligence.”

I slowly blink at him, trying to decipher if it was a plain statement from his tone…or an insult. Either way, that kinda hurt.

The principal must have noted my offended expression, “Let me elaborate. You have exceptional grades without doing the needed homework as regular studnets. You seem to get phenomenal scorings on your test when you want to. And I believe with a little extra push in the right direction, you can be headed for great things…”

Oh here we go again…

“So I would like to place you in our advance placement, if you agree to this, I shall overlook many other more…consequence as long as you participate and handle your temperaments so I don’t have to.” He leans forward, trying to show how honest eyes, “I want to be able to help students who want it, and put them in the places they rightfully belong, not just in school.”

Bla, bl-bla, bl-bla…I do my best not to roll my eyes. Though the words are different, the principal different, the message…a little strange, it’s all the same. He doesn’t actually care for the students, but the schools reputation.

I stretch my arms out and yawn wide before giving a single smack of the lips to relax in the chair, “Oh…? Another principal who wants to have me make there school look smart and beat the competition? How fantastic! But look principal…” Pausing, I  glance down at the golden name plate shining with his name in bold lettering that shone in the lighting then glanced up with a small smirk back at bright blue eyes, “Mr. Principal Bradly…?” I say slowly then give a little wiggle of the fingers in his direction, “I think I’ll pass on that advancement placement though, you know? Too much work…” And too much homework cutting into my job time.

Principal Bradly sighs heavily through his nose, slowly taking off his glasses to fold them almost dramatically in an exaggerated manner I was all to familiar with. I fight the twitch of my lips.

And expulsion. Another family not wanting to deal with any more of my crap after discovering said expulsion. 

Another gosh dang family in it for the money and not for the children involved. A pathetic an inevitable cycle.

“Mrs. Rives…you leave me no choice then…” He spoke warily. Here we go. Better start thinking what to stew out of the home this time, a little game of ‘hide n seek the valuables from which they’ll never get again and try to blame me for with no evidence’. Very long running. 5 in a row streak I believe since the second house for the Micoms, and the Ms’s braclet is on my wrist currently actually—

“I’ll have to place you in anger management.”

My thoughts go to a abruptly appalling halt.

“Manage who now?”

He clarified, as if I’m an idiot, “Anger management sessions after school—“

I bring my hand my hand up to wave off his words, “NO—I heard what you said, I’m just gonna have to refuse on that too.”

“It’s a shame then that you have no choice in that matter, not until you get the fury straightened out. Temper tantrums won’t land you in the greatest places.”

I gape at him, open mouthed and astonished.

“Are you— Are you SERIOUS? Who are you to FREAKING demand useless after school classes!!”

He slowly blinks, “The principal, young lady.”

I stand up, hot-head with the heat flapping through every inch of my body, as I shout,“SKREW THAT, and—and skrew—“

“Finish that sentence and I’ll have to give you another punishment, Klarea Rives. Please give the proper respect to your staff as I am you.”

That had me reluctantly sitting back down from my standing position, though begrudgingly. Crispy air filled the air around us and I tucked my hand under my arms to try and distinguish the small flickers of flame even though it just might scorched the armpits of my deep blue jacket. I knew the punishment wouldn’t be expulsion, but there are indeed worse things as such, against popular belief…like advance placement, Gate classes, whatever.

Frick, “Can’t you just like—rip off the band aid and get rid of me? Trust me, it will benefit the both is us. Yeah? Yeah?”

He didn’t look so amused by the idea, “And how has that worked so far with your other schools?”

“As you can tell, swimmingly.”

“Hm. I can’t exactly take your word for it, though I can’t exactly blame you since the other schools don’t know how to deal with—“ He paused, lips subtly pursed in thought.

“A delinquent? Trouble-maker? Under even immature?”

“In need of more perspective.”

I paused at that, brows slightly raised at the genuine…empathy? Yeah. I think that’s it…empathy, in his eyes. But how can a man like him be able to empathize with someone like me?

He couldn’t possibly know what it’s like. To be discarded like a toy, left to fend for themselves for pathetic excuses of “parents”…right?

Before I even realized it, my muscles where untense gradually as I sink even more into the plushy chair, glancing at the open window as chief of birds, a cool breeze that breathed with my composing breathes, and swaying small rustles of tree leaves fill the silence he let me have to sort my thoughts and emotions.

I despise to admit it, but the guys right, even I recognize I do need a little help in the anger area. A part of me that breaks free at the most unexpected times of torment, sharp claws springing out and aiming for any target to gouge in.

I mean, I set at least a few chairs and desk on fire. Set. Them. On. Fire. And…it felt good.

It’s…starting to get concerning…

“Alright. Say that I go to these…after school lessons. How will I fit that into the time of my—…work schedule.”

He smiles, and for the first time…I think it’s genuine for what it is.