How to Make a Human

When we arrived at the principal's office we were told to sit in the front room. I felt nauseas and queasy, but I couldn't tell if it was because the odd smell of Windex, coffee, dusty books, and old lady perfume that filtered the room, or the fact that it was only my second week of school and I was at the principal's office. A large woman who's saggy bottom hung off the sides of her office chair typed tiredly with a sour grimace on her "didn't have a mirror this morning so I just used all the lipstick in the tube" lips. Occasionally she would glance at Demetri and I just to make sure we weren't planning on running away. I sure as hell was planning to run away. Demetri may not have had such a cowardly thought, but I was prepared to run if need be.

"Ohmigod-ohmigod-ohmigod," I muttered quickly under my breath.

"Relax," Demetri soothed passively.

"Can you get us out of this mess? You get sent to the principal's office a lot, right? You're a hoodlum, get us out of here!"

Demetri tilted his head towards me and raised an eyebrow in an inquisitive matter. "What makes you think I'm a hoodlum?"

"What? Nothing. God, paranoid much? Do you know how to get us out of this situation or what?"

"No, I don't," he sighed. "I guess we just go in there and tell him what happened."

"What?" I hissed, "That's your idea? Seriously? Have you ever met my Oma?"

"Look Bobbie, I'll do what I can to help you out in there, but right now I'm kind of focused on the fact that I just punched the principal's son in the face, okay? Now, take a couple of deep breath, redirect your attention, and help me the fuck out!" Demetri snapped, crossing his arms moodily, causing me to recoil slightly. I crossed my arms and slouched back in my chair, occasionally trying to throw mean glares at Demetri to let him know how irritated I was. It was hard though. When I looked over at Demetri, he no longer was feigning indifference, but he looked nervous. He was biting his thumb, running his hands through his hair, and fidgeting with the sleeve of his shirt.

"Sorry," I mumbled, awkwardly reaching to pat his shoulder and then changing my mind last minute and patting his head instead. It was odd. How many times do I have to make an ass out of myself before I put my foot down?

Demetri sighed again and leaned back in his chair with his hands over his face and I heard the muffled words, "No, I'm sorry."

He dragged his hands through his hair and leaned forward against his knees, "I shouldn't have snapped. I know this is probably your first time in the principal's office and you're nervous. Don't worry though, I'll probably take most of the responsibility, after all, I'm the one who punched him."

Psh, what kind of damn drama queen was he? "Wah! I'm Demetri! Pity me because I'm a hero!" Jeez, like I would just sit there and let him take all the punishment. I might have been terrified of my Oma's wrath, but I wasn't going to let him take all the blows. That wasn't fair at all.

"Demetri Bodello, Bobbie Heising, the principal will see you now," the fat secretary droned, not looking away from the computer screen except to size us up for a moment. I twitched nervously and hastened my bag over my shoulder, breathing in deeply. I grabbed Demetri’s hand and squeezed it because I was scared but let go quickly.

We entered the Principal's office which wasn't half as intimidating as I though it would be, in fact, it was downright fluffy. There was one wall displaying all the professional nonsense you would expect to see: liscenses, awards, PhDs, etc., but then on the opposite there was posters of cute baby animals. One had a baby chimp hanging from a tree branch saying "Just hanging out!" in bold orange letters, while another had a grumpy looking wet kitten saying, "Uhg, Mondays!" in a curly, purple font. I feel like all of this would have been acceptable if this was a elementary school, but in the current situation, it was weird.

The principal was leaning comfortably in his office chair, tapping the side of plate of cookies with his pen. His wavy brown hair was receding, and his caramel eyes looked oddly welcoming (seeing as how we might have broken his son's nose). He wore a blue turtle neck under a grey suit jacket and reminded me of a 1970's salesperson.

"So," he said after a moment of judging us and deciding if he wanted to use the good cop or bad cop routine on us. He pushed the plate of cookies forward, "Cookies?"

I guess he chose good cop.

"No thanks," I mumbled, wringing the strap of my messenger bag.

"Oh, come on! Everyone loves cookies!" he persuaded, leaning forward in his chair. Demetri hesitantly grabbed one, mumbling "thank you, sir," but not eating it. The principal beamed and stood up from his chair, stretching slightly.

"Good, good! How about some milk?" he asked, shuffling to the mini-fridge behind his desk and pulling out three glasses and filling them with milk. Milk and cookies? Seriously?

"I'm fine, thanks," I declined politely, but he simply waved away my protests and handed me a nice cold glass of milk. I smiled thankfully even though I wasn't.

"I am Mr. Fredricks," he introduced. "You may call me--"

He paused and took a slurp of his milk.

"--Mr. Fredricks."

I glanced at Demetri but he was looking straight ahead, probably trying not to cry… or something.

"So, from what I have heard," Mr. Fredricks drawled, sitting back down in his chair, "you two were involved in a fight with another student who is currently with the nurse, is that correct?"

Demetri nodded, "Yes, sir."

"Alright," Mr. Fredricks nodded, "Before you say anything, you should know that our secretary is currently trying to get a hold of your guardians so they will be informed of the situation. Now, tell me what happened."

I sucked a breath in. Damn.

"Well the other student attacked Bobbie and I couldn't pull him off of her… so I punched him."

Mr. Fredricks nodded his head pensively, pursing his lips. "Who was the student?"

Demetri looked down at the ground and the sighed, "Actually it was--"

"It's not really important, is it?" I interrupted before I could stop myself. Demetri gave me a "you're pregnant?!" look and Mr. Fredricks' eyes widened. Where did my sudden bravery come from? Milk does crazy things to me, I guess.

"What?"

"Uh…" I faltered momentarily before I found my ground and began to speak, "I think the ‘what’ and the ‘why’ are more important than the ‘who’ in this story. Just hear us out first. Focus on the actions before the cause, right?”

Mr. Fredricks dunked a cookie in his glass of milk and chewed on it thoughtfully. "Fair enough. Proceed."

Demetri's eyebrows shot up and he gave me a disbelieving look which I responded to with a "I'm too cool for this" look, even though I thought I was going to explode, and we explained the story.

Mr. Fredricks nodded his head and rubbed his chin. "Well, while I don’t support violence in any circumstances, this does seem rather…. Unavoidable, yes? If you were attacked, self defense can’t be held against you. However, I trust you understand the gravity of the situation and the need for an aversion to violence? Of course you do. If I could just get Mr. Gert to sign off on it actually happening, you two should be golden. Your guardians will still be informed, as any conflict resulting in physical contact demands parental attention. I will of course need to clear things up with the other student and see if your stories differ too greatly."

Demetri and I both smiled brightly. Well, I was the only one smiling, but Demetri looked relieved, and I could tell that he wanted to smile, because I have such an awesome understanding on human emotions. Seriously. It's why I'm so good with people and have so many friends. Har har.

"Mr. Fredricks, Mr. Gert and the third student are here," the secretary's voice intoned over the mini intercom between his office and outside.

Mr. Gert smiled and winked at us, "Right! Then send them in!"

The door opened and Mr. Gert, closely followed by a cotton-clogged nosed Ron entered. Mr. Gert looked hassled and annoyed and smiled tiredly at us when he entered. Ron glared and flipped us off when his dad was greeting Mr. Gert.

"Rough Monday, eh, Gert?" Mr. Fredricks laughed, before he saw Ron. "Ron? What are you doing here?"

Mr. Gert sighed, "They didn't tell you? Ron attacked Bobbie."

Mr. Fredricks glanced frantically between the four of us, "You're not serious are you?"

I looked into my milk glass and spun it around in a melancholic manner. My eyes began to tear up; my Oma was going to kill me. Demetri patted my knee.

"It's nothing serious, right, Dad?" Ron said in a painfully innocent tone.

"Well, no one here looks severely injured. We could easily let this slide for all three of you if you just want to put this behind us. I suppose boys will be boys," Mr. Fredricks shrugged, causing Mr. Gert to sigh and roll his eyes. "No use crying over spilt milk."

Ron smirked arrogantly and bumped my shoulder with his, causing me to… spill my milk. Oh, the irony, I thought as I began crying like I was the seven year old on the playground who's sandcastle was kicked down.

"That's bull crap!" I cried, wiping my eyes and trying not to look like a loser. "You said that we weren’t in trouble and you had to talk to the other student! And now you change your mind when you see that it's your son! That's completely unfair!"

"Now, Bobbie, we all know it has nothing to do with that… right Mr. Gert? And that aside, you‘re not in trouble either way."

Mr. Gert shrugged and met Mr. Fredricks' eyes, "You tell me."

"I didn't do anything wrong, that's all," Ron smiled, "Right, Dad?"

"Well, when I compare it to my rowdy school days, it's nothing at all," Mr. Fredricks responded. "Boys will fight, it's only natural."

"In our day we would have gotten kicked out of school for attacking someone, especially a girl," Mr. Gert corrected. "Tom, punishment must be dealt to the guilty party."

It was silent for a minute before an angry German could be heard on the other side of the door. Oh, I guess my Oma was here then.

Damn it.

"Das ist das lächerlichste Stück der Scheiße[1]-- excuse me, is that the principal's office?"

"Yes, but he's busy--"

"Busy with me as of now!"

The door swung open, and there, in all her old grandma glory, stood Oma, her grey braid only halfway done, a blue, flowered dress came to the middle of her shins, but the knee high black socks hid everything else. She put her vein-y hands on her waist and glared around. Oh, pity the soul that makes her mad.

"I get a call telling me Bobbie's in trouble and you're sitting around drinking milk and cookies?"

"Ah, you must be--" Mr. Fredricks began.

"Mrs. Miriam Heising, yes, now explain to me why my granddaughter is in tears!"

Mr. Fredricks opened his mouth to say something, but Demetri cut in, "That kid attacked her."

My Oma glared at him, "And Bobbie is in trouble because she did that to his face in self defense?"

"No, ma'am," Demetri muttered, "I did that."

Oma took a deep breath and narrowed her eyes at him before patting his head, "Good boy."

"Now, that's no way to talk about my son!" Mr. Fredricks shrieked before he could act like the professional he wasn't.

My Oma turned to him quickly, "Are you telling me the only reason this little brat isn't suspended, or at least in detention, is because he is your son?"

"No, Mrs. Heising--"

"If it was my son who attacked a lady, I would have suspended him faster then you can say 'ginger kid'! And here he is, probably after multiple offenses of his bad behavior being ignored, and you're going to let him off the hook?" she hissed.

"Well, boys will be boys--"

"Mein Gott! Are you kidding me? I will go public with this if punishment is not served!"

"Mrs. Heising--"

"No. Sign out Bobbie for the day, we're going home," Oma snapped, grabbing my wrist and tugging me out of the room. She paused and grabbed Demetri's wrist as well, "Sign him out, too."

"Mrs. Heising you can't do that--"

"Watch me!" she snapped, storming out of the office, Demetri and I at her heels.

I heard Mr. Gert laugh, "I'm not counting either of them absent."

[1]This is the most ridiculous piece of the shit--