God, wars were exciting. And the office had never been more on edge— or more lively. Secretaries tromped past each other with fierce bravado and, save for the sound of their thick heels on the carpet or the occasional climper of a keyboard, the office was dead silent. High noon was about to start, and Johan and Delilah had just closed the doubled doors behind them with visible apprehension— polite people who never wanted to cause too much trouble. Gentry knew the type, smiling when he saw Zach saunter in behind them. He was dressed down, and a visible anxiety straining his features. What did he expect? That’s what happened when you resisted an officer.
Of course, Nasty wouldn’t have called the police if Zach hadn’t argued with the attendance lady. And the attendance lady wouldn’t have argued about the Delinquency (or two) she stamped on Zach’s permanent record if he would’ve checked into the office after that test. None of this would have happened if Zach would have stopped by the office before going to class. But no, Zach fucked up the natural order. Gentry perched his head on one hand. Delinquent.
Although it wasn’t his job, Gentry sat at the front desk. He almost always fooled people into thinking he was the secretary, because those kinds of things were easy with a grim expression and a firm voice. The real secretary was off on her lunch break, but parents didn’t know and at the moment, neither did the office.
“Can you be helped?” Gentry asked the man who approached the bar. This was probably Mr. Johan Tyler. But you were not supposed to use peoples’ names when addressing them; only students did that. Adults used “you” a lot, and if they didn’t it was because you were probably in trouble.
“We have an appointment with Grau Harolds, the Principal?”
“He’s busy. Please take a seat by the door.”