Bluffington Preparatory Academy

“Mr. Johnson, do you know why I’ve called you in here?” asked Principal Dumbass from his regular perch behind his desk.

“Well, I wouldn’t know Mr. Dumbass, I don’t recall doing anything wrong.” I leaned back in my seat, stretching my arms above my head and shot him my usually smirk.

“It’s Mr. Dumas Nathan and you know that.” He practically growled, causing my smirk to grow to full capacity. “And I called you’re here because I have been notified that a member of our janitorial staff has reported finding you drinking on campus. You of all people should know that this is not something we tolerate at Bluffington Prep.” Glowering down at me, he took a detention slip from in front of him and began filling it out.

“I’m so sorry, I keep forgetting about that little rule. Oh well, what’s one more detention?” I asked, shrugging.

“We’re beyond that Mr. Johnson; it appears one detention is not enough to teach you a lesson. I will be seeing you for Saturday detention for the next month, if during this time you break anymore school rules, you will be facing expulsion. I don’t believe your father would be very happy about that.” I could’ve sworn he smiled a little at the thought.

Richard Johnson, my father, graduated from Bluffington Preparatory Academy twenty years ago, first in his class. He moved on to attend Harvard and later get his bachelors degree at Yale business. Currently he is the owner of multiple uber successful businesses and he firmly believes his son will follow in his footsteps. False hope, it’s a sad thing.

“Come on Mr. Dumas, what have I done to deserve this?” I asked sitting up with indignation.

“Lets see. Besides pulling fire alarms, using illegal substances on campus, and on one occasion assembling automobiles on the roof of the building? The list can go on if you’d like.” He leaned forward, getting as close to me as he could with his desk and fat stomach in the way. “I suggest you just take the detention.”

I took the slip from his outstretched hand and exited the room, grumbling obscenities under my breathe. My names Nate Johnson, not Nathan as certain school committee members insist on calling me. This is pretty much how the majority of my days end, walking back from a wonderful talk with my principal. You could say I’m the schools resident bad boy, a rebel of sorts, that’s fair enough. But it’s just a way to pass the time, I don’t actually care what people think of me as certain people tend to think.

I pulled out a cigarette, lighting it, and stomping out the match on the ground. Taking a long drag, I headed back to my dorm room.