We sat outside the principal's office waiting for our parents to come pick us up. Cole had a bag of ice on his eye and tissue wads up his nose, and Michael had ice on his hand; sporting a very nice shiner on his left eye. I sat between them, completing the perfect picture of dysfunction.
Cole had yet to look at anyone in the eye, now being the new school victim and pitied martyr, while Michael was seen as an avenging angel, and I--get this--the homewrecker. You could hear it was we walked the halls, as we sat just outside the office.
"You know, we could have avoided this whole thing if you had just told the truth," I directed to Cole, my expression dark as I surveyed his injuries again. "And if you," I cut back to Michael, "...had restrained yourself enough to let our parents handle
