Damon by V.R. Paille

Author:V.R. Paille
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: romance, slow burn, contemopary
Publisher: V.R. Paille

Chapter 24: Damon

Age 7

My feet swung inches from the ground on the hard chair outside the principal’s office. I could hear Mr. Brewer’s deep baritone on the phone. He was calling my dad. Not that I blamed him. I punched Stiles. I punched him hard and kicked him harder. He deserved it though, not that anyone was going to listen to my side of the story. The front door swung open. A pretty woman in a blue dress rushed into the front office. Her voice was rushed as she said, “I’m Stiles’ Mom. Stiles Trainer. I got a call…”

The receptionist interrupted, “Mrs. Trainer, he’s in the nurses’ office. Down the hall to the right.”

Her blue dress flew behind her as she rushed past the hard chairs and down the hall. To sniveling Stiles. Teacher’s Pet. Class Favorite. Straight A Student. Homework stealing Stiles. That’s right. He stole my homework, wrote his name on the top of my worksheet, and turned it in as his. When the teacher asked me where mine was, I tried telling her. She wouldn’t listen, you know, cause he’s the teacher’s pet. The perfect angel in the classroom, but the devil to the other kids. Then he acted all offended at the accusation, as if he would lower himself to stealing my homework. When we went to lunch, he tripped me. My nuggets splattered on the ground. The fruit bowl rose in a glorious arch before landing in the middle of Miss Cafeteria Lady’s blue hairnet. Stiles’ stinking shoes ground my nuggets into oblivion, then kicked my milk carton. It slid into the corner of the sharp edges of the serving area. The edge cut the carton open, spilling my milk. My lunch for the day was ruined. I already had a letter going home about my missing homework that Stiles stole. I guess I had had enough. As my old man always says, “Sometimes, enough is enough. Sometimes, you gotta give an ass whoopin’ or get one.”

So, I doubled up my fist. I tucked my thumb on the edge not inside, the way Dad showed me. I reared back with all of my might and landed a beautiful right hand to his nose. Stiles staggered, but didn’t fall. I followed with a quick jab and finished it with a nice upper cut. He landed with a loud thump. The teachers grabbed me and started dragging me away. Not before, I managed to kick out and land a kick square to his stomach. His face turned a nice shade of forest green. Shrugging, the teacher off, I told her I knew my own way to the principal’s office. She glared at me. “Riff-raff,” she muttered as she walked away.

I held my chin up, proud. I did what I had to. What a man would do. It took almost two hours, but my mom finally pulled into the parking lot. She still wore her nurse’s uniform from her shift. Her black hair frizzed out in all directions and her eyes shot daggers at me.

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