I play my lingering act outside the principal’s office for what feels like hours. I can hear him on the phone through the other side of the door, talking in low but heated murmurs and I wonder what has beefed him so much that his usual calm composure has made him like this.
I knock once and loud and then several seconds pass before I hear a voice call out and tells me to come in.
Nothing, I mean nothing can shock me more than what I see when I enter the office.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I am surprised my voice remains as leveled as it sounds.
My dad – of all people – stands beside the principal’s desk, dressed in a navy suit, his hair slicked back like he has literally just stepped off a plane mid-meeting and landed here.
“Hi darling,” he greets, and I almost throw the nea
