The heavy oak doors of the Oakridge High main auditorium loomed ahead like the entrance to a courtroom.
It was 8:15 AM on Monday morning. The school board members, three local police liaisons, and a handpicked selection of senior faculty were already seated inside, their hushed voices echoing off the tall plaster walls. My father had orchestrated this meeting with the precision of a military operation. It wasn't just a standard disciplinary review; it was a public execution of Julian’s academic record, designed to brand him as a criminal and seal his transfer to the county alternative facility before first period even ended.
I stood beside the hallway drinking fountain, my hands tucked tightly into the pockets of my jacket to hide the violent trembling of my fingers. My father had unlock
