I went to the school on an investigation assignment and grabbed lunch in the cafeteria while I was at it.
I noticed a girl who'd only gotten herself a bowl of the free broth, so I ordered a meal and set it in front of her.
Someone nearby whispered, "Isn't that the Ivy League girl? How does that guy have the nerve to talk to her?"
Before I could process that, a male teacher was already charging toward me. His open palm cracked across my face.
"What class are you in? Little punk! You think you can harass my daughter?"
The girl panicked, grabbing his arm. "Dad! It's not what you think!"
He shook her off and seized my wrist. "Move! We're going to the principal!"
I tried to explain. "You've got it wrong. I'm from the Education Bureau."
He let out a derisive snort. "The Education Bureau? A kid your age, and you're already lying through your teeth? Move!"
I mean, I just have a baby face!
He dragged me into the principal's office, still hollering. "Principal Finch! My daughter is a guaranteed Ivy League admit! And this little degenerate had the nerve to harass her! A student like this needs to be expelled!"
He wheeled on me, his voice sharp as a blade. "What class are you in? Give me your parents' number. You're done here."
I smiled.
"Go ahead and call. The real question is whether you've got the guts to dial."
……
Vincent Finch choked on that. He blinked, momentarily stunned.
Neil Delgado was practically bouncing beside him. "Principal, did you hear his attitude? This shameless little delinquent needs to be taught a lesson he won't forget!"
I leaned back in the chair and rubbed my wrist where his fingers had left red marks. "Quit wasting time. Make the call."
Finch took the bait. He picked up the desk phone. "What's the number?"
I rattled off a string of digits.
He dialed, hit the speaker button, and puffed himself up. "Hello, this is Vincent Finch, principal of Evergreen Academy. I assume you're this student's parent? Your child has been harassing a female student on campus. I need you here immediately."
Two seconds of silence on the other end.
Then a voice came through, laced with obvious confusion. "Excuse me? What did you say? Who?"
Finch repeated himself, louder this time. "Your son has been harassing a female student at this school! You need to come handle this right now!"
Another silence.
I nearly bit through my lip trying not to laugh.
If Principal Finch had any idea who was on the other end of that line, he'd have wet himself on the spot.
But he didn't know. He just stood there, chest out, waiting for my "parent" to come grovel.
"Principal Finch," the voice on the phone said, its tone shifting to something strange and cold, "are you certain you're talking about my son?"
"Of course I'm certain!" Finch snapped, losing patience. "Are you coming or not?"
The voice replied:
"I'm on my way. And Principal Finch, until I get there, no one touches a single hair on his head."
Click. The line went dead.
Finch stood there gripping the receiver. He let out a dismissive grunt. "Quite the tough guy."
Neil sidled over. "What happened? What did they say?"
"Said he's coming right away." Finch set the phone down. "Told me not to touch his son."
Neil's eyes darted around, and then a grin split his face.
"Principal, I've got an idea! Call an all-school assembly. Make this little punk apologize in front of the entire student body! Kill the chicken to scare the monkeys. Let every boy with wandering eyes see what happens."
Finch hesitated. "Isn't that a bit much?"
"A bit much?" Neil's voice pitched higher, shrill with indignation. "My daughter is ranked first in the entire city on the practice exam. She's the crown jewel of this school! If we don't deal with scum like this, what's next? Open season on her?"
Finch nodded, about to speak, when Neil reached over and grabbed a fistful of my hair.
I caught his wrist and twisted. Hard.
"Ahh!" He yelped, the color draining from his face.
"I can walk on my own."
