Trouble at School
By J. Tomas
Published by Queerteen Press at Smashwords
An imprint of JMS Books LLC
Visit queerteen-press.com for more information.
Copyright 2012 J. Tomas
ISBN 9781611522426
For more titles by J. Tomas at Smashwords visit https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/jtomas
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Cover Credits: Andrey Shadrin
Used under a Standard Royalty-Free License.
Cover Design: J.M. Snyder
All rights reserved.
WARNING: This book is not transferable. It is for your own personal use. If it is sold, shared, or given away, it is an infringement of the copyright of this work and violators will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.
No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously, though reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Published in the United States of America. Queerteen Press is an imprint of JMS Books LLC.
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Trouble at School
By J. Tomas
At quarter after one in the afternoon, Jordan Matthews sits in the principal’s office awaiting his fate. This is the first time in all his fifteen years that he’s been to the principal’s office, ever. The period bell rang six minutes ago, making him officially late for his English class, and he’s going to miss the quiz his teacher gives every Wednesday because he’s here.
In the principal’s office.
Waiting.
He isn’t exactly sure what it is he’s waiting for—his classmate Casey Sothern was sitting with him for a while, until Casey’s mother showed up. Then the door to Mr. Form’s office opened and the principal glared at the two boys over Mrs. Sothern’s shoulder. Casey was ushered into the office with his mother, and Jordan hasn’t seen either of them since.
Until Mrs. Sothern showed up, Jordan hoped things had just been blown way out of proportion. He expected a scolding—maybe Mr. Form would tell Casey and him to be more careful in the future, and even laugh about it with them before sending the boys back to class. But when Casey’s mother arrived, Jordan knew the shit was about to hit the fan. Because if she’s here, that means whoever called her probably more than likely also called his own mother, as well.
And if she finds out why he’s in the principal’s office in the first place, he’s dead.
He sits in the last chair in a row of seats lining the wall. Floor-to-ceiling glass panels close in the principal’s office, separating it from the rest of the school like a prison yard. More like a gas chamber, Jordan thinks. Everyone who passes by the office can see in—can see him. He’s gotten quite a few looks already, and from the way the students whisper to each other when they glance his way, he knows word is already getting out about why he’s in here. He feels like a goldfish trapped in a bowl, his mind swimming in circles with increasing terror. If Mrs. Sothern hadn’t shown up, he could’ve believed he’d get detention, tops. Now he’s thinking in-school suspension, maybe worse.
Is there anything worse? Jordan doesn’t know, but he sure as hell doesn’t want to find out.
On the other side of the reception desk, the school secretary types furiously. Every now and then she peers over the top of the desk to look at him, as if to make sure he’s still there. Where else would he be? In class, he thinks, staring at the top of her head so the next time she looks over, he’ll be looking back. Taking a quiz. Why did I bother reading three whole chapters of The Scarlet Letter if no one’s going to ask me about them? Turns out it’d been a waste of time he could’ve spent with Casey instead.
Above the reception desk, a large analog clock ticks down the minutes to the next bell. He hears the faint tick tock tick tock sound it makes over the clinking keys on the secretary’s computer keyboard. Mr. Form’s door is still firmly shut, and Jordan’s beginning to wonder if maybe there’s a back entrance or fire escape the principal uses to let students and their parents out after they see him, because surely whatever punishment he wants to hand down has already been decided upon…
From the corner of his eye, Jordan notices the front doors of the school open. As he turns to see who it is, his heart drops to his stomach. He recognizes the familiar swagger, the dark green work pants, the khaki company shirt whose left pocket is embroidered with the logo for Matthews Construction.
Oh, God. Dad.
His day just got worse, if that’s even possible. As Mr. Matthews crosses the hallway, heading for the principal’s office, he catches sight of Jordan and scowls.
Jordan sinks into his seat and wishes he could just disappear.
No such luck. The glass door opens beside his chair and his father storms into the office. With a nod at the secretary, Mr. Matthews takes a seat one over from his son, leaving an empty space like a chasm yawning between them. Hunkering down over his knees, Mr. Matthews pins Jordan with a steely gaze and, in a tightly controlled voice, asks, “What’s all this nonsense about?”
Jordan doesn’t know what to say. Did the secretary tell his father why he’s in the principal’s office in the first place? If she didn’t, Jordan doesn’t want to be the one to break the news, but he’s sure Mr. Form will have something to say about it whenever they get called back into the inner sanctuary. Over the past year, Jordan’s played out a wide variety of scenarios in his mind, different ways he’d tell his folks the one major secret he’s keeping from them, but he never dreamed they’d have to find out like this.
“Jordan?” Mr. Matthews asks, anger tingeing his name.
Jordan looks over at the reception desk and sees the secretary’s eyes trained their way. When she realizes she’s been spotted, she ducks down again, her fingers flying over her keyboard. Probably e-mailing all the teachers in the school, spreading the same gossip the students are snickering over as they pass. Jordan Matthews is in the principal’s office. Can you imagine? He was caught in the hallway just after the last lunch bell rang…
He can’t bring himself to say it, so he twists his hands together in his lap and avoids looking at his father. He doesn’t want to see the disappointment he’s sure to find there, staring back at him. This is humiliating.
“Jordan.” His father’s tone softens, but only a notch. He must have seen the secretary spying on them, as well, because he lowers his voice and leans closer to his son. Jordan almost can’t hear him over the sound of the typing. “They called me at the office and said you were in trouble for kissing another boy in the hall. Is that true?”