The Fourth Stall Part II by Chris Rylander Page A

that meant it really was a big deal.
    After talking about some math subjects that would be on the test, he handed out this huge packet of worksheets to complete for the rest of the day. Everybody groaned, even me. Packets are the worst. Nobody likes packets. Well, except for Garret Henley—he loves packets, but he also loves all homework, eating string cheese dipped in grape jelly, and watching the Public Access TV channel. So his opinion doesn’t count for much.
    â€œChristian?” Mr. Skari said a few minutes after handing out our packets.
    I looked up from my math assignment with a frown. It was never a good sign to have the teacher say your name during classwork time. Mr. Skari motioned for me to come to his desk.
    As I got up, he said, “Better grab your stuff.”
    That was an even worse sign.
    I collected my things, threw them into my backpack, and approached his desk.
    â€œYeah?”
    â€œYou need to go see Dr. George.”
    â€œWhy?”
    Mr. Skari gave me one of those looks that said, You know why . For the most part Mr. Skari and I got along pretty well. For him being a teacher anyways. So he’d probably tell me if he knew exactly why I needed to go see Dr. George.
    He handed me my hall pass and I headed off toward the administration offices.
    The place where happiness goes to die.
    So it seemed I was going to get my first meeting with the new vice principal. I would get to see what he was all about firsthand. I’m going to admit that I was a little nervous. I mean, you don’t get reputations like Dr. George’s by being an empty threat.
    As bad as Head Principal Dickerson was, Dr. George would probably be even worse. They were both clearly old cranky guys with little to no hair whose faces would shatter into gory messes of blood and skin if they ever smiled, but the difference was that Dickerson was kind of a bumbling idiot, whereas Dr. George had a reputation for being razor sharp, the sort of guy you couldn’t just talk your way around. He was still a doctor, after all, even if it was the fake kind.
    I shuffled inside the door to the administration offices, and the secretary held out her hand. I wasn’t sure if she wanted me to shake it or something, but then I looked at the hall pass clutched in my own hand and held it out to her. She snatched it away as if she thought I might pull it back at any moment.
    I had never been called to the principal’s office before. I was just a simple businessman, not a troublemaker.
    The secretary pointed at a door to my left.
    The silence could have suffocated me.
    The door was huge, but the nameplate on it was tiny and slightly crooked. I reached to knock, but the door opened before I could. He’d been expecting me, I guessed.
    Dr. George held the door open and swept his other hand toward a chair across from his desk. I sat down. He closed the office door and sat across from me. He was a normal-sized guy. He had a lot of wrinkles, and his eyes moved too much, but other than that and his two-toned fake hair, he looked just like any other crusty old guy.
    We sat there looking at each other for a while. His breathing was loud and his nose wheezed with each exhale. He stared right at me, and I tried to hold his gaze as long as I could, but it was hard. The guy was making me nervous—even more so than adults usually do. What was his game?
    â€œWell?” he said finally.
    â€œWell,” I said back.
    He frowned.
    â€œWhat do you have to say for yourself?” he said.
    â€œFor what?” I dug my fingers into the wooden armrests on my chair.
    â€œDon’t play games with me, Mr. Barrett.”
    â€œI’m not playing games. I wish I were,” I said.
    He pounded a fist on the desk. “I’m tired of this attitude from you kids! Show some respect!”
    He startled me, and I jumped, suddenly more afraid than I ever expected to be in my own school. His voice echoed deep into my brain even after