”This is the second time this week and the fifth time this month!” Mr. Ardel shouted as he slapped his palm down on the top of his desk.

Across from him, Art Gowan blinked owlishly, his brown hair in messy curls and embarrassment written in the lines of his portly body. The call had come while he was in the midst of doing the books for the store, Laney minding the shop while Matthew was at school. He was obviously trying not to fidget, but Matthew could see the way he clenched his fingers where they had them woven together in his lap and the way he shifted his weight from one hip to the other. He was dressed well, but there were hints of his absent-mindedness… a spot on his shirt from lunch, a cloth tucked into his back pocket from earlier in the day when he had been dusting the shop and then forgotten he’d stuck in his pocket.

Resentment flared and the teen turned his head to stare out between the blinds of the principal’s office to the commons in front of Meadowview. His teeth worried at the cut in his lip, but he welcomed the pain and the faint taste of metal. His eye felt swollen, but the blood and dirt had been washed from his olive skin, his hair straightened in it’s low pony tail. Ms. Olson, the gym teacher, had been the one to find him huddled behind the school, nursing his injuries after the beating he had received. A trip to the nurses office and a phone call to his father later, here he was, getting a dressing down for, once again, fighting with other students.

“We can’t keep giving you third and fourth and fifth chances, Matthew! Fighting at school is not acceptable, and the worst part is that I know that you know that!” A flush had crept up into Mr. Ardel’s face with his fervor. It made his cheeks look mottled, like marbled meat. Matthew dropped his eyes, but refused to turn away from the window, resentment bubbling up under his ribs and into his throat.

Orah had always smoothed these things over for him, before. She’d always known the right things to say to his principal to get him to give the teen another chance. She’d been able to explain and to play the stern parent she shouldn’t have had to be, to sooth Mr. Ardel. His father, in stark contrast, was a mass of nerves and blank-eyed confusion. Matthew knew this was more than he knew how to deal with… it was something he had grown up knowing; that his father just wasn’t very good at being a father.

“We’re going to have a long talk about this, Mr. Ardel, I assure you.” Art fumbled, reaching to push his glasses up his nose. Despite every effort to look capable and authoritative, the florist still just look frazzled and confused. “You can be sure Matthew is very sorry. Aren’t you Matthew?”

The teen made a noncommittal sound and his father sighed, reaching up to scrub his forehead. Mr. Ardel seemed to soften then and he leaned forward to put his elbows on his desk, thick fingers lacing in front of him.

“I don’t want to be the bad guy here, Mr. Gowan, but fighting just can’t be tolerated. I know things have been… rough, the last few months. I’m not unsympathetic.”

Art, if anything, looked even more uncomfortable with the turn the conversation had taken and Matthew’s scowl deepened, turning thunderous and mulish.

“I think its better in the long run for Matthew himself to… get a new start. I don’t think that Meadowview is the place for him any more. We just don’t have the facility to help him the way he needs and all I can see is things going down hill from here. He only has one year left… it would be a shame to get so close and end up dropping out or worse.” Mr. Ardel said, obviously trying to be delicate about it.

Mathew felt a surge of something very like panic, but he pushed it down, swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat.

“I don’t… understand, Mr. Ardel. Matthew knows he did wrong, and he’s sorry. Aren’t you Matthew?” Art looked to his son, but the teen has no words to give him, feeling himself sinking deeper into this strange, out-of-control feeling that had been growing over the last few months. When he got no reply, the florist turned back to the principal with a confused expression. “Does this mean… are you expelling him?”

Mr. Ardel glanced at Matthew before he rose, holding out a hand to Art.

“I think, in the end, this will be better for everyone involved, Mr. Gowan. Your son has so much potential, I don’t want to see that thrown away.” Art rose, his expression bemused and worried, to put his hand in Mr. Ardel’s. “I think it best if you two… took the rest of the day to think about things. Relax, get some distance. I’ll call you later and we can talk about your options. I have some people I can put you in contact with.”

“Th… thank you.” Art said faintly as he let the taller man shake his hand. Matthew, sensing escape, shoved himself out his chair as bile climbed up the back of his throat.

All his friends were here… everything he still cared about. They were going to take all of that away from him, and there was nothing he could do about it. The thing he had dreaded for years had finally happened and he truly had no one to blame but himself.

The teen shoved his chair out of the way as he stormed silently out, leaving his frazzled father to trail after him, fingers wringing together. Mr. Ardel sighed as he settled back into his chair, his hands splayed across the top of his desk. He hated having to do this, but there was simply no choice any more. Between the loss of his mother years ago and his sister going missing such a short time ago, Matthew needed help that he felt at a loss to provide him.

The young man needed discipline, something to ground his life on, and unfortunately, he was not going to find it at his school.

Word Count: 1065