Clarisse

I sat in the office, waiting for my father to finish scolding another student. I could feel all the women in the office staring at me.

I watched a brunette rush out of the principal's office. Tears glistened as they rolled down her cheeks. I wonder what she’d done to deserve being yelled at by my father.

As she passed me in the chair, I handed her a tissue. I was pretty used to the people who came out of my father’s office.

“Thanks,” she said with a sniffle. I didn’t have time to respond because my father was summoning me. I lifted that backpack of mine which weighed a hundred pounds and started heading over to the torture room. I had crossed most of the room when I clamped my hand onto my wrist.

It turned around. It was the nurse, Darla.

“Don’t anger him too much,” she warned. It was no surprise that my father had a temper. “Clarisse? Please try to get in and get out.” She held onto my wrist until I nodded.

“Clarisse, get in here,” my father called out, not bothering to come out of his torture chamber. Darla gave me a quick hug before sending me on my way.

“Yes?”

The office was plain. No pictures on his desk of his loving family. I don’t know how he spends so many hours in a room so boring.

My father gestured to the seat in front of his desk. “Sit down, miss Shaw.”

I rolled my eyes. He didn’t even bother calling me by my first name in his office.

“What did I do this time?” I recited. “Light a house on fire?”

He didn’t bother to look up from his laptop. He just sat there, clicking away, not bothering to respect me enough to look me in my eyes.

“At least look at me if you’re going to try to accuse me of something,” I snapped.

He raised an eyebrow. “Who are you to speak to the principle this way?”

I crossed my arms over my chest stubbornly. “I just happen to be the principle’s daughter, if you have already forgotten.” I slammed down his computer, watching the rage fill his eyes. He knew he couldn’t do anything to me at school. Where there were witnesses.

“I have a suspicion that you went snooping around in my office the other day and got hold of a copy of test answers,” he said calmly, leaning back in his chair.

“Nope.” I leaned forward and drummed my fingers on his desk, watching him frown. “It wasn’t me. Can I go to my class now?”

Dad clasped his hands tightly together on his desk. “No. You’re going to be truthful. Did you or did you not go through my desk?”

I smiled, watching as his jaw clenched. I was playing with fire, and it was very clear to see.

“I did not.” We stared at each other, him enraged while I remained calm, which irritated him almost more than anything else I’d done.

“Go to class,” he demanded stiffly. “We’ll continue this conversation later. Have a good day, miss Shaw.”

My blood froze when I realized I had just dug my grave. The fact that he didn’t even yell shows how much I’m in for it later.

I bowed my head as I left his painfully bare office. The women at the front desk exchanged confused glances with each other.

Darla pulled me aside. “Are you okay?”

Despite my fear, I managed to smile for her. “Of course. Don’t worry.”

“Just know if anything happens, I’m here,” she told me, lowering her voice.