I Bought Her Lunch and Got Expelled,But I'm the Deputy Director

I let go and looked at him calmly.

Neil clutched his wrist, my steady gaze forcing him back half a step. The obscenity on the tip of his tongue died in his throat.

He hadn't expected me to fight back. He definitely hadn't expected me to be that strong.

In the corridor, he walked ahead of me, glancing back every few seconds to glare. His mouth, though, never stopped running. "Shameless little punk. No manners. No upbringing."

I stopped walking.

He stopped too, eyeing me warily.

"Watch your mouth."

My voice was quiet. He flinched back half a step, his lips trembling twice before he swallowed whatever he'd been about to say.

Principal Finch called from behind us. "Let's go, let's go. The whole field is waiting."

The athletic field was packed. Over two thousand students stood in neat rows by class, a dark sea of uniforms buzzing with whispers.

Neil shoved me onto the stage. He put real force into it, trying to send me sprawling, but I planted my feet and didn't so much as sway.

A flicker of disappointment crossed his face.

Vincent strode to the microphone and cleared his throat. "Today, we are holding an emergency all-school assembly!"

The field fell silent.

"This young man—" He jabbed a finger at my face. "—was caught harassing our Ivy League track student, Gretchen Delgado, in the cafeteria!"

The crowd erupted. Students leaned into each other, murmuring.

Neil snatched the microphone. "Gretchen Delgado is my daughter. First place in the citywide practice exam! The pride of this school! Our ticket to the Ivy League!"

He wheeled on me, his finger nearly touching my nose.

"There have been punks like him before. They all wanted to ruin my daughter. Ruin this school's future! What are they? Nobodies. They're not even worthy of speaking to her."

Vincent took the microphone back, softening his tone, putting on a magnanimous act.

"Apologize in front of everyone. Write a letter of guarantee. If your attitude is satisfactory, I might consider not expelling you."

I looked at that sanctimonious face and couldn't help but laugh.

"You don't even know who I am, and you're demanding an apology?"

Neil exploded. "Who are you? Who could you possibly be? You're nothing but a shameless little thug!"

His rage boiled over. He charged at me, hand swinging for my face.

I sidestepped. His palm cut through empty air. His momentum carried him forward, and he staggered two steps, nearly pitching headfirst off the stage.

Laughter erupted from the crowd below.

Neil's face turned crimson.

"What are you laughing at?!" he screamed at the students, then spun back toward me, eyes wild with something unhinged.

He dug a red marker out of his pocket and twisted off the cap.

"Think you're tough? Think you can keep dodging?"

He advanced on me, marker raised like a weapon.

"I'm going to write 'THUG' across your face! Something you'll never wash off! Let the whole school see exactly what you are!"

The laughter died instantly.

Someone sucked in a sharp breath. Voices called out that he'd gone too far.

The marker tip was an inch from my cheek when I drove my foot into his midsection and sent him crashing to the ground. Neil let out a strangled scream, his face draining of all color.

With my other hand, I pulled my credentials from my pocket and held them in front of his eyes.

"Read it."

He squinted, leaned closer. Then his eyes blew wide.

The badge read, plain as day: Colin Simmons, Deputy Director, City Education Bureau.

"You— You—" His lips shook. Every trace of blood vanished from his face.

I let go.

His legs gave out. He collapsed to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut.

I turned to face the two thousand students below, raised my credentials high, and let my voice carry across the field.

"My name is Colin Simmons. Deputy Director of the City Education Bureau."