Asked to Compromise

I should’ve been singing the Fresh Prince of Bel-Air theme song. I laughed aloud at the irony of the song and my life, right now.

A taxi was waiting for me at LAX airport with my name on a sign earlier. The flight from Chicago to L.A. was four, maybe five hours. The drive from the airport to the actual school was about two. I annoyed the cab driver for half the ride, until I got bored and started listening to my iPod and texting. I knew the cab driver was frustrated with me and kept going on to himself that I probably deserved to be going where I was.

He pulled up outside a gate and got out, going around to the trunk. I got out, too, waiting for him to get my suitcases. He pulled my three suitcases from the trunk and practically threw them onto the ground at my feet.

“I have important shit in there, you prick!” I shouted at him as he closed the trunk.

He waved his hand and said something in some other language, before getting back in and speeding away. I balled my fists and set my suitcases upright. Nothing better not have broken in there. I stacked one suitcase on top of another to pull with one hand and pulled the last one with my free hand.

I struggled trying to hold my bag on my shoulder while pulling three suitcases. I jumped back when the gates slowly opened by themselves. They already knew I was here. They probably had cameras or something. I continued dragging my stuff until I got onto the actual campus of the school. I stopped walking for a minute to look around. The place was huge, but not what I was expecting.

It was all brick with a huge awning over the main entrance. A.S. High School was in block letters on the brick wall. The bushes were trimmed and the grass was neatly cut. There were a few separate buildings set apart from the main building. It looked like a regular high school. It wasn’t the least bit intimidating under the bright blue sky.

There wasn’t a single soul around. I at least expected some kids to be cutting class or something. Then again, this school was different… but not by much by the look of this place. I was going to enjoy this. Oh, this was gonna be easy.

I laughed loudly to myself. People claimed this place was “bad”. This looked so far from any sort of prison or detention center. I couldn’t believe I was even afraid of this place for two seconds. My mind thought of all the mischief I could get into here.

The door of the school opened and a man started walking towards me. I had to squint before I could really see him clearly. He was tall with spiky black hair and dark shades covered his eyes. He looked semi-casual in a black button down shirt and jeans with black shoes. There was no way he could be a student here, and if he was, I wondered how many times he’d gotten left back.

I laughed even harder at my inside joke, until I couldn’t breathe. I grabbed onto my suitcase to steady myself before I fell over from laughing so hard. I couldn’t even take this whole trip seriously anymore. I tried to straighten up when he cleared his throat. I bit the inside of my cheek to stop myself from laughing.

“You must be Priscilla,” He said smoothly. “I’m Mr. Haner.”

He expected me to take him seriously with a last name like Haner?

“Yes, I am,” I said, snorting. “Sorry.”

“I’ll take that,” He said, holding his hand out for my suitcase. I gave him the two I had stacked on top. “Follow me.”

“Yes, sir,” I said jokingly. I pulled the one suitcase I had. He opened and held the front door for me.

“You don’t have to call me that,” He said.

“I wasn’t serious, anyway,” I scoffed, becoming serious. I followed him down the hallway silently. The only sound was my suitcases rolling on the linoleum floor.

There still weren’t any kids around. We only passed a few “teachers”. I assumed everyone was still in class or whatever. The hallways were clean, like sparkling. There wasn’t even a tissue or granola bar wrapper on the floor. There were a few pieces of art high up on the wall. I wondered how much they were worth and if anyone ever did graffiti on them…

“So, what were you laughing at outside, anyway?” Mr. Haner asked. We turned a corner and walked down the hall a little more. He held the door to an office open for me.

“You don’t wanna know,” I shook my head.

“Humor me,” He said, his lips curved into a smile.

“Well, I got here, expecting something different. Then, I realized I’ve been sent to some bullshit prep school to scare me. I can’t believe that for a moment, I was afraid of this place,” I rambled, letting him know what was on my mind. “It’s just a waste of time and money. I heard rumors about this place, and they weren’t pretty. All rumors are thrown out the window now. My parents thought they could scare me. I’m not going to change for anyone.”

Mr. Haner looked amused for a minute and looked over my shoulder. I followed his gaze until I heard a different voice behind me.

“How do you know the rumors aren’t true?”