working for some reason. The Principle is trying to get them to come in sometime after lunch to get it fixed.”
I glanced at the kid sitting next to me on the bench. He was asleep. Drool was oozing out the side of his mouth.
“ And it smells like…ass.” I said under my breath.
The Secretary looked at the boy beside me. “I know baby, I know.”
I wasn’t sure how long I waited. Forty-five, maybe fifty minutes before a door behind the counter opened and Principle Girard leaned halfway out the archway.
“ That Amber Rose kid here yet?” She called out. The Secretary motioned in my direction.
“ ROSE! My office. NOW!” Principle Girard demanded. I could tell she was pissed. What I couldn’t tell is if it was because of me or something else altogether.
The Principle ducked back into her office then immediately poked her head back out again. “Mrs. Greta, what is that smell?”
The Secretary scrunched her nose towards the kid sleeping next to me.
“ Hey you!” Principle Girard yelled out. “WAKE UP!”
Homeboy didn’t even budge. In fact, he actually snored louder.
“ You’ve got to be kidding me? Amber Rose, wake him up.” Principle Girard demanded.
I gave him a quick nudge to the ribs. “Dude, eyes front.”
He came awake slowly, squinting his eyes as if the light was hurting him severely.
“ Oh bloody hell.” The kid exclaimed, rubbing his side, slipping the shades that were resting on his head down to his face.
“ Hey, Mr. American Idol. First, sunglasses off.” Yelled the Principle.
“ But…”
“ Save it for Dateline. Second, where are you coming from?” When the kid took off his shades I could swear I saw his eyes go from white to completely bloodshot in seconds.
“ Gym.” He announced, squinting as he looked away from the sun.
“ Well that explains the…aroma. Third, why are you here?”
“ Well I…”
“ Please do not insult my intelligence by lying.” Principle Girard added.
The kid let out a sigh. “Cigarettes.”
The Principle shook her head. “Your lungs, your cancer. But in the meantime, you’ve just volunteered yourself for the school bake sale this month AND the annual car wash next month…”
“ Is that all?” He interrupted.
“ What? Slow your roll boy and pump your brakes, I ain’t done yet. AND you’ve just volunteered for concession stand duty for the next three home games AND…”
“ Oh come on Principle Girard.” The sullen boy cried out. At that precise moment, she gave him such a look of utter contempt that I had to fight back laugher.
“ Are you staring at my boobs?”
The boy seemed flustered as he tried to garner a response.
“ He was totally checking them out.” I chimed in.
“ Uh…”
“ Please refrain from answering rhetorical questions Mr…” Principle Girard cut a look towards Greta.
“ Horatio Venezuela Jr. Ma’am.”
“ ...Mr. Horatio Venezuela Jr.” The Principle continued without skipping a beat. “Well that’s a mouthful. Venezuela. Son to Salomé Venezuela. I do believe she runs the emergency room up in St. Augustine.”
“ Yeah, she does her trauma thing.” Horatio admitted.
“ She does her trauma thing. How eloquent.” Stated the Principle. “I’m sure she would be very interested in knowing that her son was suspended for a month for smoking on campus.”
This caught little Horatio Juniors attention. “Suspended?”
“ Not to mention the fact, that if you were smoking, then you would have used a lighter, or matches, whatever your pleasure may be, but considering the fact that lighters and matches are on the list of banned contraband and classified as a weapon, I am well within my rights to contact the authorities…”
Horatio sat up in his chair. “Wait, you gonna call the Cops?”
“… to detain you until your mother can come down to the sheriff’s station to pick you up, which should give me just enough time to fill out your expulsion papers for violating…”
“ Hey, come
I glanced at the kid sitting next to me on the bench. He was asleep. Drool was oozing out the side of his mouth.
“ And it smells like…ass.” I said under my breath.
The Secretary looked at the boy beside me. “I know baby, I know.”
I wasn’t sure how long I waited. Forty-five, maybe fifty minutes before a door behind the counter opened and Principle Girard leaned halfway out the archway.
“ That Amber Rose kid here yet?” She called out. The Secretary motioned in my direction.
“ ROSE! My office. NOW!” Principle Girard demanded. I could tell she was pissed. What I couldn’t tell is if it was because of me or something else altogether.
The Principle ducked back into her office then immediately poked her head back out again. “Mrs. Greta, what is that smell?”
The Secretary scrunched her nose towards the kid sleeping next to me.
“ Hey you!” Principle Girard yelled out. “WAKE UP!”
Homeboy didn’t even budge. In fact, he actually snored louder.
“ You’ve got to be kidding me? Amber Rose, wake him up.” Principle Girard demanded.
I gave him a quick nudge to the ribs. “Dude, eyes front.”
He came awake slowly, squinting his eyes as if the light was hurting him severely.
“ Oh bloody hell.” The kid exclaimed, rubbing his side, slipping the shades that were resting on his head down to his face.
“ Hey, Mr. American Idol. First, sunglasses off.” Yelled the Principle.
“ But…”
“ Save it for Dateline. Second, where are you coming from?” When the kid took off his shades I could swear I saw his eyes go from white to completely bloodshot in seconds.
“ Gym.” He announced, squinting as he looked away from the sun.
“ Well that explains the…aroma. Third, why are you here?”
“ Well I…”
“ Please do not insult my intelligence by lying.” Principle Girard added.
The kid let out a sigh. “Cigarettes.”
The Principle shook her head. “Your lungs, your cancer. But in the meantime, you’ve just volunteered yourself for the school bake sale this month AND the annual car wash next month…”
“ Is that all?” He interrupted.
“ What? Slow your roll boy and pump your brakes, I ain’t done yet. AND you’ve just volunteered for concession stand duty for the next three home games AND…”
“ Oh come on Principle Girard.” The sullen boy cried out. At that precise moment, she gave him such a look of utter contempt that I had to fight back laugher.
“ Are you staring at my boobs?”
The boy seemed flustered as he tried to garner a response.
“ He was totally checking them out.” I chimed in.
“ Uh…”
“ Please refrain from answering rhetorical questions Mr…” Principle Girard cut a look towards Greta.
“ Horatio Venezuela Jr. Ma’am.”
“ ...Mr. Horatio Venezuela Jr.” The Principle continued without skipping a beat. “Well that’s a mouthful. Venezuela. Son to Salomé Venezuela. I do believe she runs the emergency room up in St. Augustine.”
“ Yeah, she does her trauma thing.” Horatio admitted.
“ She does her trauma thing. How eloquent.” Stated the Principle. “I’m sure she would be very interested in knowing that her son was suspended for a month for smoking on campus.”
This caught little Horatio Juniors attention. “Suspended?”
“ Not to mention the fact, that if you were smoking, then you would have used a lighter, or matches, whatever your pleasure may be, but considering the fact that lighters and matches are on the list of banned contraband and classified as a weapon, I am well within my rights to contact the authorities…”
Horatio sat up in his chair. “Wait, you gonna call the Cops?”
“… to detain you until your mother can come down to the sheriff’s station to pick you up, which should give me just enough time to fill out your expulsion papers for violating…”
“ Hey, come
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