The first and second dress code showdowns resulted in a stern warning never to wear ‘ill-fitting pants’ again. The reply was always a firmly grounded “you should never pull me out of class to talk about fashion again.” Exactly two days later, Zach returned to the stuffy office once yet again, with particularly baggy pants and a tell-tale yellow note clasped in his hand. It was Ms.Nasty’s annoying habit to call him out of class by sending him little yellow notes. Piss yellow.
The moment he saw Gentry’s scowling face he knew things weren’t about to get better. The redhead sat alone in one of the shiny blue plastic office chairs, slouching with his legs apart and arms crossed. His dark eyes glanced up once, before a strand of red hair fell into his face. His large red hands gripped his hard, freckled arms with wordless tenseness. They exchanged heated glares, and then irritably turned away from one another, Gentry to the west and Zach to the east.
“What are you here for?” murmured the redhead, studying the carpet for any peculiar fibers.
“These pants.” Came the reply, observing a spider skitter across the ceiling, “Where were you at swim practice yesterday?”
Gentry stole a look at the aforementioned pants, and shrugged nonchalantly, “You fight stupid fights.”
“You don’t fight at all, and you’re here too.”
“Gentry.” Mr.Nilla’s gravely cough broke in, “Please come see me in my office. Zach, get comfortable.”
“There are cameras in the office,” Mr.Nilla went on, “So do not wander off.”
“I wasn’t planning to.” Zach shot back.
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