Dancing Delinquents

"That's it, to the principal's office, now!" Mr Bradford yelled pointing at the door, his face red with fury. Angel scowled at him not bothering to stand up. "You said we could ask you any question, is it bad that I want to know why your wife left you," Angel sneered, at his can't–take–a–joke calculus teacher watching as his eyes twitched in barely concealed rage. Angel had no doubt that Bradford would have hit him had they been the only ones in the class. His hands that had formed fists, looked like they needed an object to take their anger out on. Praise heavens he wasn't going to be the target, although, he might just deserve it a little bit. "I'm not going to repeat myself again Mr Delgado. Get out of my class!" he roared getting even more red in the face and let me tell you, he already looked like a fire truck. "Fine! Damn! Calm your t**s okay, I'm leaving," Angel stated grabbing his bag and moving towards the door ignoring the whispers from his peers. Angel hadn't gotten any book out for the class so he had nothing to pack hence him making it to the door in less than ten seconds. "Have a great day Bradford," Angel called, mock saluting him before shutting the door albeit a little too quickly, knowing Bradford would probably have thrown his white board marker at him if he was there a second longer. Angel roamed the hallways obviously not planning to go to the principal's office anytime–ever. He had been fooling around like he usually did in all his classes and unlike other teachers who either feared or ignored him, Mr Bradford liked to act like he could put Angel in check. Ha, it was nice of him to try. He would regret it though, who does he think he is sending Angel out of a class he wasn't even paying attention to. Angel smirked as a devious plan began forming in his head, Mr Bradford wouldn't even know what hit him. Angel skipped down the empty hall, his fingers brushing the newly painted green coloured walls. The squeaking of his sneakers on the clean tiles was probably a distraction to the ongoing lectures, but Angel couldn't care less. His current target was the science department. After everything was set, Angel stood back and admired his work. Gasoline all around Mr Bradford's car in a neat circle. Now all that was left, was for him to strike the matchstick. A grin made it's way to his face as he took out the match box he had stolen from the chemistry lab –during his visit to the science department– from his side pocket. Angel came closer and squatted down, making sure he was not too close to the trail of gasoline. With an indignant sigh, he striked the matchstick on the matches box, letting it fall into the trail. He watched in utmost satisfaction, as it caught fire immediately. The smell of gasoline oozed out of every angle in the teachers parking lot, making him wrinkle his nose. He decided he had stayed in the lot, for long enough. With a final smirk in the direction of Bradford's currently burning car, he left the parking lot. Going back into the school building, he tried imitating all those many super hero exits that often occured after they had defeated a villain, except, he was the villain. Angel was not even far into the building when the school's fire alarms went off, the shrill sound ringing through the hallway, alerting everyone of the supposed fire. He just kept on walking, his heart racing in exhilaration. Burning Bradford's car, topped all his other delinquent projects. He had never done something as extreme, as this and truth be told, Angel was kind of scared. About five minutes later, the halls were bustling with teenagers trying to scramble their way out of school. Pushing the feeling of fear and all other unwanted nerves to the back of his mind, Angel walked unaffectedly to the exit. His anticipation was momentarily forgotten when he saw a couple of staff with fire extinguishers, trying to put out the fire from Bradford's car. He grinned not caring how suspicious he might have looked. To put it quite frankly, all Angel could see that was left of the car were it's metallic parts, and even those looked damaged beyond repair. You could call the situation unveiling itself –thanks to Angel– a job well done. Seeing the smiles on the faces of his peers, be it from not having to attend classes, or from watching their worst teachers car burn to ashes, Angel decided that he felt accomplished at the moment. Who knew setting fire on people's properties could be this fun, he thought. Another fifteen minutes and Angel was –not at all surprisingly– sitting in the principal's office trying very much to regret his actions. He had been into Mr McCoy's office enough times to give the poor guy grey hairs. Mr McCoy was balding Asian man in his fifties, and unlike Angel, he really did have the calm blood of an Asian running through him. Mr McCoy hated violence with every fiber of his being. "You set Mr Bradford's car on fire, didn't you?" Principal McCoy asked, his fingers interwined underneath his chin. The question was more of a statement than it was a question. But naturally, Angel did not answer straight forwardly. "So what if I did?" He fired back, drumming his fingers on the armrest of his chair. Principal McCoy's beige coloured walls, seemed like they were closing in on Angel, but he refused to let McCoy smell his fear. "Pardon me, but there's no need for this useless questionings principal McCoy. Mr Delgado set my car on fire as a retaliation to me, for kicking him out of my class which he wasn't even paying attention to," Mr Bradford who had been silent the whole time, speaks up from the corner where he had been cooped the whole time. Angel glanced pointedly at Mr McCoy's ticking clock, trying to unravel the mysteries behind it's Chinese writings. It was either that, or he rolled his eyes at Bradford, cursing him from the beginning of the Earth, to it's end. This dude can't take a joke, can he? "If you aren't going to deny his claims Mr Delgado, then I'm afraid I have no more say in this matter. I'm handing you over to Mr Bradford, and, whatever he says goes," his balding principal concluded, rubbing his face in frustration. It pleased Angel that he was the cause of the man's frustration. With a frown on my face, and a smirk on Bradford's, we silently got up from our seats. "I'll like to have a word with your mom after school," Mr Bradford announced as we exited the air-conditioned office. I pushed it's shiny wooden door behind me, making sure it was shut properly. "What for, I committed the crime. My mom has nothing to do with this," Angel argued, anxiety from earlier retuning to him with a pang. Bradford smiled that cursed smile. "Oh but she does Mr Delgado. Once we meet, I'll be presenting your mom with two options, one of which she has to choose. Let's just say, if you really loved your mom, you wouldn't be hurting her the way you do," he sneered disapprovingly. His words caught Angel off guard, so much so that he almost forgot to come up with a snarky response, "I'm not hurting her, you don't know s**t Bradford," Angel grumbled despite not believing his own words. "Language Mr Delgado, you're still on school grounds. I can still give you a detention." "Well why don't you," Angel yelled feeling waves of anger and unease pulse through him. Why in the world, did people like Bradford exist. To put people like you in their place, his subconscious answered. That etched a permanent frown on his face. "Because the punishment I'm going to be making your mom choose for you, is enough punishment to last you a life time. Let me see if your sassy tongue doesn't get tamed after today." For some reasons his words stroke a cord in Angel's usually composed self. Mr Bradford never joked around, Angel didn't think he'd start now. The frightened boy –not that he'd ever show it– rounded the corner frantically, trying to escape Mr Bradford's irking presence. He decided it would be much better if he skip school. He only have two classes left so it isn't that big of a deal. Angel walked through the almost empty streets basking in the chill air that seemed to hang around him. He spotted his favourite icecream shop, and decided to stop for icecream. "The usual?" Miracle asked once Angel was in front of the counter. "Yeah," he answered smiling at the pretty brown skinned girl. Once the icecream was ready, Angel handed over the bill with as much tip as he could afford since Miracle was one of the few human beings on earth that he genuinely liked. He tolerates the rest doesn't mean he doesn't feel like strangling them every once in a while. Miracle doesn't bother questioning why Angel wasn't in school. She had learnt that some questions were better left unanswered. Angel waved at the twenty-three year old woman, before exiting the brightly painted shop, stopping on his way out, to snort at the comical icecream figure in front of it. He moaned once the icecream hit his taste buds, purposefully flooding my senses. Excuse you, but delinquents eat icecream too. None of them were stupid enough to do it during fall, but that was beside the point. Angel has always been different, nothing unusual there. He pushed his shoulder length dark blue coloured hair behind his ear, simultaneously try to warm himself up with his extra large jacket, and contrastingly stuffing his face with icecream while at it. He wondered through the town's park, silently questioning why Florida was colder this year. Not until his icecream was completely gone, did Angel realize that he have barely five minutes to get to school. Despite the fact that he was a twenty minutes walk away from school, Angel wasn't bothered. At least that's what he wanted himself to think. He stuffed his hands in his brown coloured khaki pants and trudged at his own pace to the shitty place that was his school. Angel had arrived to a fuming Mother and a sadistically beaming teacher. He tried not to let their stares affect him. By now the school was void of it's students, with the remainder of those who committed the atrocity of spending a second longer in school. "I'm going to cut to the chase Mrs Delgado. You either send your son to a school for delinquents, or I sue him so he ends up in juvenile. I have great recommendations for delinquent schools by the way," Bradford chuckled loving how he was putting mother and son in misery. Angel stared open-mouthed at Bradford's cruel suggestion, he didn't know the man harboured that much hatred towards him. "So what would it be," Bradford taunted in a sing song voice, his baritone reverberating and sending chills down Angel's spine. "A delinquent school," his mom replied monotonously. Angel felt his heart sink, not at the prospect of getting expelled from his fifth school since ninth grade, but at his mother's face which looked liked it had been plummeted. Mr Bradford was right, Angel was a horrible son. He was starting to understand that fact more and more. For this, Angel vowed not to utter a word of complaint or plea over his punishment. He would take it like the man he had become. Take that dad! A delinquent school now? Even Angel hadn't seen this one coming. Nevertheless, Angel Delgado was not a coward. No delinquent school, whatsoever, was going to make him cave. Besides, delinquent schools are where people like him belonged. He was a delinquent after all. Thanks for reading, I appreciate it. What do you think so far?