13
The principal showed up.
He was out of breath, his face covered in
sweat, his shirt buttons all messed up. He’d
rushed here straight from bed.
“Are you trying to get yourself arrested?!”
He threw the pictures down on the table in
the office. “The cameras caught you!”
“Oh.” I looked for a comfortable place to sit.
The principal’s chair looked the best, so I
pulled him out of it and sat down, crossing
my legs. “Then call the cops.”
I was wearing a mask and hat when I put up
the posters. They couldn’t have gotten my
face.
Besides, the school was up for an award and
<
the administrators were coming to check the
school soon. He couldn’t risk negative press.
I watched his face turn red, then blue, then
purple.
I kept at him. “Principal, I’m a good guy. I’ll
help you out. I’ll turn myself in. I’ll go on TV
and apologize.”
I pulled out my phone, typed in 911, and held
my finger over the dial button. “Fine, I’ll just
apologize.”
He grabbed my arm, annoyed. “What do you
want?”
“What do I want?” I shook off his hand. “Do
you really not know what I want?”
I wanted a cigarette, but I didn’t want to
smoke my own.
I opened his desk drawer and saw a pack of
Dunhills.
Nice.
I pulled one out, lit it, took a drag, and blew
