“Alright, I’m ready now. Come in.”
“What can I do for you?”
“We need to talk.”
“You’re right. And the first thing I have to say is you don’t talk to me that way.”
“Excuse me?”
“No.”
“EXCUSE ME?”
Laughter. “You heard me. I said no. You don’t tell someone ‘We need to talk’ It’s offering and taking away a false choice all in the same four word sentence.”
He glowered at her and narrowed his eyes. “I suppose you’d like a gilded invitation?”
“No. I want you to stop living up to your name.”
“What’s THAT supposed to mean?”
“You suggested canceling Christmas vacation,”
“We have mandatory teaching hours we have to hit to keep federal funding. You know this.”
“That doesn’t give you permission to act like a….Dick..ens.”
“You know what. I don’t fucking like you.”
“Good. I would be worried if you did. What do you want?”
“The Shelley kid. I can’t handle another pissed off parent. I’m transferring her out.”
“The fuck you are.”
“EXCUSE ME?”
“Your problem is you keep forcing your blunt insistence against the rotation of the galaxy.”
“And what the FUCK is that supposed to mean?”
Laughter. “As soon as you figure that out you’ll be a much happier man.”
“I’m the principal. You are the vice principal. My say goes.”
“Sayeth the dictator.” She admired how he was able to turn an even darker shade of red.
“I suppose you have a better idea?”
“Of course I do. You are both a fool and an idiot. That girl is a genius. We aren’t shipping her off because no one can deal with her.”
“And you do?”
“I tell you what. Give me two weeks. If her behavior hasn’t dramatically improved, I’ll drive her to the new school myself.”
Dickens glared at her. Then a crafty look stole over his unimpressive features. It didn’t take a psychologist to figure out he had calculated she was going to fail.
The world’s biggest shit eating grin stole over Dicken’s face.
“Done.”
