His Only Exception

Marked

I knew I’d end up in the new principal’s office sooner or later this year, but I definitely didn’t expect it to happen on the first day of school. I heard Principal Navarro got hired because of the reputation he built at some strict high school over in Westbrook. Someone must’ve decided I was the leader of every bad decision around here, because I’m the one sitting in this chair instead of one of the other South Side guys.



So here I am, pulled out of gym while Navarro gives me his whole speech about school rules and discipline. I can tell he’s studying me, trying to figure out what kind of reaction he’ll get as he says, “…and this year I’ve hired two full-time armed security officers, Adrian.”



His eyes lock onto mine like he’s trying to intimidate me. Yeah, right. I can already tell that even if Navarro understands the culture, he doesn’t understand my streets. Next thing I know he’ll probably start talking about how he grew up struggling too. People always say things like that. I doubt he’s even driven through my neighborhood.



He steps in front of me and folds his arms. “I promised the superintendent and school board I’d personally deal with the violence that’s affected this school for years. I won’t hesitate to suspend anyone who ignores school rules.”



I haven’t done anything besides mess around with the cheerleader princess a little, and somehow this guy’s already talking about suspension. Maybe he heard about what happened last year. That little incident got me kicked out for three days. Wasn’t completely my fault either. Mason Cruz had this ridiculous theory about cold water affecting white guys differently than Latinos. I was arguing with him in the boiler room after he shut off the hot water heaters when we got caught.

I had nothing to do with it, but somehow I still took the blame.



Mason even tried telling them the truth, but our old principal wouldn’t listen. Maybe if I’d fought harder, things would’ve been different. Then again, what’s the point of fighting when people already made up their minds?

I already know who got me called in here today.



Brielle Hart.

Think her perfect boyfriend would ever get dragged into Principal Navarro’s office? Not a chance. The guy’s a football hero around here. He could skip class or throw punches and people would still treat him like he hangs the moon.



Colin Adams knows exactly what he’s doing too. He pushes buttons because he knows nobody’s going to call him out for it. Every time I’m close to losing my temper, he suddenly disappears or magically ends up standing near a group of teachers.



Teachers who already expect me to screw up.



One of these days...

I look back at Navarro. “I’m not startin’ any fights.”



Might finish one though.



“That’s good,” Principal Navarro says. “But I heard you had an issue involving a female student in the parking lot today.”



Seriously?

Almost getting run over by Brielle Hart’s shiny car is somehow my fault?

For the past three years, I’ve managed to stay out of the rich girl’s orbit. I heard last year she got a C on an assignment, but one phone call from her parents somehow turned it into an A.



Would’ve hurt her chances of getting into a good college.



Must be nice.



If I brought home a C, my mother would smack me upside the head and tell me to study twice as hard. I’ve worked for every grade I’ve gotten, even with people acting like I cheated to earn them.



Like I’m not smart enough.



College isn’t even the point anymore.



It’s proving I could get there if life handed me different cards.



People act like South Side kids are somehow dumber than North Side kids, and that’s complete garbage. We’re not stupid. We just don’t spend our lives worrying about expensive clothes and elite universities,most of us are too busy surviving.



Probably the hardest thing Brielle Hart has to deal with is deciding where she wants dinner every night. The girl walks around looking perfect and somehow everyone falls over themselves for her.



“Care to tell me what happened in the parking lot?” Principal Navarro asks. “I’d like to hear your side.”



Yeah. Not happening.



I learned a long time ago that my side usually doesn’t matter.“This mornin’ was a misunderstanding,” I tell him.



A misunderstanding where Brielle Hart apparently thinks two cars can fit into one parking space.



Principal Navarro leans against his desk. 



“Let’s make sure misunderstandings don’t become a habit, okay, Adrian?”

“Adrian?”



He frowns. “Hm?”

“I go by Adrian Reyes.”



What he knows about me is sitting inside some school file that's probably thicker than a dictionary.



Navarro nods once. “All right, Adrian. Get to sixth period. But understand something I’m paying attention, and I’m watching your every move. I don’t want to see you back in this office.”



I get up, but before I reach the door, he rests a hand on my shoulder.



“For what it’s worth,” he says, “my goal is for every student in this school to succeed. Every student, Adrian. Including you. So whatever assumptions you have about me, throw them out the window. Understand?”



“Yeah. I got it,” I say, still wondering if I should believe him.



Outside, the hallway is packed with students rushing toward class. Lockers slam shut and voices bounce off the walls. I pull my wrinkled schedule from my back pocket while heading toward the locker room.



After changing out of my gym clothes, the bell rings through the speakers I look down at my schedule.



Chemistry with Ms. Kline. Perfect.



Another hard ass waiting for me to screw up