Decayed

Dismissal

    It was terribly easy not to like him. It was unlawfully easy to hate him. 

    "Do you have something to say?" Donald Monroe Keye said. I even hated his name. 

    "No," I pushed out with my tongue. I'd never talked to him before. I didn't want to. His actions always repelled me. I looked over at him to see him still typing on his phone. What would he do if he didn't have one? He'll just go ahead and buy one, dipshit! For s**t's sake, he may just go and get two if he wanted! 

    "Then what do you want?" Donald didn't look up.

     "Nothing from you," I replied. His parents probably don't even love him. Hence, his name. No loving parent would willingly do that to their kid. That's straight up child abuse, but they probably spend thousands of bucks on him to make sure he doesn't cry about it.

    He finally looked up at me, "Really?"

    I nodded. 

    "Then quit staring at me!" he said.

    "I wasn't staring at you. I was looking at you! That's what normal people do when they have a conversation with someone else."

    He looked to the front of the classroom, squinted, and saw the teacher lying on the floor. He got up and went to the front desk, eyeing something on the desk. 

    "What are you doing?" He ignored me.

    "What did you do to get in here?" He asked, instead.

    "None of your business." 

    "I got caught with p**n. Now you tell me your excuse." He said it like I owed him.

    "I know what you did. And I'm not telling you shit."

    "Really?" He picked up three pink slips of paper off of the front desk.

    "What are you doing?" I whispered this time. He was too close to the teacher. I was scared the teacher would wake up suddenly and yell at us for acting so suspicious.

    "They still give detention to late students? Huh, haven't heard that in a while?" He played through the pink slips.

    "What?" I said, but curiosity left me once I saw the teacher stir. "Put those down!"

    "You knocked a kid out?!" He yelled. I loudly shushed him, but he looked at me with the ugliest smile on his face. 

    Then, he stacked all the slips together and ripped through them, then again, and then again for safe measure, before shoving it in his pants.

    I was stunned.

    "Come on! Get out!" He whispered, actively, but I stammered with my words.

    "I'm the president's son. I can get away with this s**t. Now go!"

    I grabbed my book bag and dashed out the door and then turned around to say "Thank you, Don Keye."

    The ugly smile on his face turned into an ugly frown, but I made sure to leave before any of the teachers could catch me.