Start a Revolution

"Drew Hemingway and John O'Callaghan."

There were quite the few "ooooh"s and "oh damn!"s as the two spoken teenagers get to their feet and walk toward the front of the classroom. John gives his girlfriend a little subtle wink before the turn around to meet their peers' gazes.

"What do you two have prepared for us this morning?" Mr. Bobbet asks in his flat, monotone voice. You could tell by his facial expression though that he was interested in seeing how these two did.

Drew smiles. "We have—"

A knock on the classroom door cuts her off. She crinkles her brows as Mr. Bobbet heaves out a large sigh. He makes a grunt as he gets to his feet, a large torso blocking his path to the door. He squeezes around his podium before making it to the door. A couple of his students laugh at his trouble before he shoots them a glare. They shut up.

He opens the door, his eyes widening. "Why, Principal Higgins!" Immediately, everyone in class sits up straighter and picks up their pencils. "What brings you here today?"

Principal Higgins gives Bobbet his infamous grimace-slash-smile. Drew's brows furrow further as Higgins steps inside of the classroom. Bobbet goes back to his desk to sit. "Good morning students," Higgins says in his overly-polite administrator voice. He turns to the head of the room. "Good! The two people I just needed to see are already up and prepared. Would you two follow me to my office?"

More "oooooh!"s make their way around the classroom.

John's own brows now crease in the middle. "Drew and I?"

Higgins nods.

The two teenagers exchange looks before nodding quickly, walking back over to their things and grabbing them. John wanted so badly to reach out and grab Drew's hand but refrains himself from doing so. The principal holds the door open for them before following suit.

"This way," he mumbles, beckoning them down the hallway. They follow behind the large man, John's hand inconspicuously touching Drew's lower back.

It seemed to take eons as they walked to Higgins' office. Each step felt like they were leaping across the moon; vast and empty and scary. Neither of the teens knew what to expect, both holding fears that they didn't voice to the other.

When they finally walked into the front office, both of their hearts dropped to the pit of the Earth.

"Mom?" Drew asks, her throat closing up as John subtly slides his hands away from her. As they walk toward Higgins' office, he made sure he kept a distance from her. "Dad? What are you doing here?" Her heart pounded in his chest so hard and so loud she felt it would beat against the bone and fly out from behind her rib cage.

Mrs. Hemingway got to her feet, her face pinched. "Get in the office, Drew."

"Mom?" John seemed to echo Drew, his eyebrows raising. And as he got closer to the principal's office, the surprise didn't end there. "Dad?" His father got to his feet as well, his face anything but happy to see his son. "What...what?"

Higgins' holds open the door to his office, beckoning the six people inside.

Drew and John were the last to walk through the door into the tiny office, the boy reaching over to squeeze his girlfriend's hand. He could tell that she was moments away from a full-on freak-out. He was trying to stay strong for her, because someone had to be, but he himself was steps away from throwing up all over Higgins' nice, clean white carpet.

John sat in beside his mother and Drew sat beside him. John's father and Drew's parents stayed standing, but kept a safe distance between each other.

"It has come to my attention," Higgins clears his throat, "that—"

"Is this true, John?" said boy's mother speaks quietly, her voice cutting through nonetheless.

John hesitates, glances at Drew through his peripherals, and then looks back at his mother. His throat ran dry. "Is what true, Mom?" he asks back. He knew he was taking the high, dangerous road.

He didn't care.

John's father hits his fist on top of Higgins' desk. "You know what John," his father seethes. Spittle was forming in the sides of his mouth and Drew winces. "Don't act coy. You've been...with...one of them." He said the last word like someone had filled his mouth with rat poison. Drew felt that old, familiar bubble of hatred toward the O'Callaghan's forming in her stomach. It had been quite awhile since she felt that; or at least, it seemed like it had been awhile.

"Them?" John mutters. "Them? They're people too, Dad!"

"They aren't people," his father says venomously. "They are—"

"What?" Mr. Hemingway cuts in. "We're what?" Drew looks back at her father. He had his arm around her mother, who was glaring at the floor. Her father looked more mad than she'd ever seen him. He tie was askew. "Murderers? Go ahead. Say it."

Drew gasps. "What?"

John closes his eyes, squeezing the lids together until he was seeing shapes. His elbows find his knees as he stuffs his face in his hands, rocking back and forth. This is not how he wanted Drew to find out about the scandal.

"What else do you want me to say?" John's father spits, his dialogue now directly trained at Drew's father. The two teenagers sat in stony silence, John in despair, and Drew in confused air. "Your daughter is the cause of all of this. If only she could have kept her slutty hands off of Kyle for two sec—"

And before anymore could be said, the sound of palm hitting flesh resonated throughout the office.

Everyone was in stunned silence as Mr. O'Callaghan grabs his cheek and Mrs. Hemingway lowers her hand back to her side. Drew didn't know whether or not to be appalled or happy that her mother just slapped the man she'd been taught to hate. She didn't know what to think and she couldn't very well get any answers out of John when he was too busy rocking back and forth like a toddler who had dropped his binkie on the ground.

"Do not say one word about Ann," Mrs. Hemingway says in a deadly whisper. Drew had never heard such a dark tone emit from her mother's mouth. She curled her knees into her chest at the sound of it.

What about Annie though? Why was Mr. O'Callaghan calling her awful names? What was she the cause of? Just...why? All Drew wanted to do was understand but no one was giving her that.

Principal Higgins pushes his shock away and brings himself back to the conversation. "Please, ladies and gentlemen. If we could refrain from violence...I know we have quite the situation on our hands, but I don't think it's serious enough where blood needs to be drawn." He turns his attention to Drew and John, who were both looking uneasy in their own ways. "I got a call from Mrs. Hemingway this morning, and Mr. O'Callaghan shortly after. Why?"

The two teens look briefly to each other. Drew decides to answer, clearing her throat loudly. "Because we lied to our parents about being project partners. This wouldn't be the first time they've overreacted about something that has to do with John or I." Drew could feel the heated glares her parents were sending her, but she chooses to not acknowledge them.

Mr. O'Callaghan grits his teeth. "No, little girl. That isn't—"

"Shutup!" Mrs. Hemingway bites back. John's father curls his lips but stays silent.

"Unfortunately, you are incorrect," Higgins says, wiping at his pasty forehead with a handkerchief. You could tell it had been a long day already by the stress lines in his face; even though it was only first period. "I was informed that you two are seeing each other."

"Obviously," John tries to joke. "We see each other every day. We have class together."

Mr. O'Callaghan raps John upside the back of the head. Drew winces and immediately moves her hand to comfort him but is painfully aware that every adult was watching their every move. So she moves her hand back to her lap and twines her fingers together.

"You know what I mean, John," Higgins says, lowering his gaze.

A tense silence follows this accusation. The teenagers knew it was inevitable; they'd been caught. They'd been caught by the principal, of all people. Granted, their parents, somehow, found out first, but it was still embarrassing to be called into the dean's office for dating someone just because their respective families didn't fucking like each other.

"This is bullshit," John finally says out loud, his voice clear.

"John!" his mother gasps. "Watch your—"

"No!" he growls, getting to his feet. "Why the fuck should I? Why should I watch my language? Why should I eat my broccoli? Why should I do my homework? Why should I not be allowed to date the fucking girl I love just because you have some bullshit problem with her sister that doesn't even involve her?"

"Because Ann killed Kyle!" Mr. O'Callaghan explodes, reaching out to grab John by the arms. "She killed him! My...son..."

Drew's jaw was dropped and she didn't even realize it.

Annie...killed someone?

She killed John's brother?

The girl dares a look back at her parents. Upon seeing her gaze, her mother looks away, biting at her bottom lip harshly. Her father just sets his teeth and keeps his face directed at the O'Callaghan men. She couldn't believe it. Annie had killed someone and no one bothered to tell her for the past ten years.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" she says, louder than she'd intended.

"Drew—"

"How could you not tell me?" she screams, also standing. Her mother flinches but her father remains still. "Did you think it would somehow shelter me?"

Higgins felt the control slipping away. "Could everyone please—"

"You can't tell me who I can and cannot be with," John retaliates to his father. His dad was so mad, his face was purple and veins were popping out of his neck. "It's my decision. You have no say in who I have feelings for!"

"Drew, you don't understand it's very complicated—"

"It's not complicated!" she shouts, stomping her foot. "You just chose to hide it from me because of your fucking reputation!"

"Please, stopping cussing everyone and take a—"

"Dad, this isn't something you can argue with me about and expect to win!" John was still ranting, his arms shoving his father back. "Just because one Hemingway made one mistake doesn't mean that they all made that mistake! Shit, get over yourself!"

His father snarls. "How can I when Ann was never put away!"

Drew's father shakes his head. "Drew, stop overreacting—"

"Oh, I'm the one overreacting! How about you take a step in my shoes for a moment, shall we? You kept a huge secret from me for ten years, then expected me to hate someone for absolutely no reason, and then tell me now that I have to stay away from him? When all of this is fucking Annie's fault?"

"She didn't do anything wrong!" Mrs. Hemingway gasps. "Take that back!"

"She killed a human being!" Drew scoffs. "How is that not doing anything wrong?!"

"She was drunk—"

"Hell yeah, she was drunk—"

"John, you are completely ruining—"

"Don't try and justify her actions—"

"Please, everyone—"

"This isn't something you can just—"

"SHUTUP!" Drew finally screams at her mother, who had been babbling about nonsense. The message got across and everyone in the office falls silent in the middle of their sentences. It was like the Pope had walked into the room. The thickness of the atmosphere was choking Drew. She couldn't breathe.

Higgins was so nervous and so sweaty that he had to air himself. "Thank you, Drew. But could everyone please sit down so I may—"

"No," Mr. Hemingway says. He was looking at Drew stonily. "We're leaving."

Drew's face falls. "Dad, no—"

"Yes," he interrupts. "Get your things. We'll meet you in the car." Then her parents were exiting the office before she could anything else. She watches as they walk out, the door slamming behind them. Mr. O'Callaghan looks to the girl. She looked so helpless, so lost.

"Annie didn't mean it," Drew finally says to John's father. John looks at her, his eyes wide. "I still don't know everything that happened, but she couldn't have possibly meant it."

Silence.

"Are you defending her?" John mumbles, his voice choking on the third word.

Drew opens her mouth, closes it, then sighs. "I don't know who's side I'm on. All I know is..." she looks to John's parents, to Higgins, to her lap, then back to John. "I'm leaving." Then she stands, grabs her bag, and leaves the room like she didn't just crush John's heart into a million pieces.