A TRIP TO THE HEAD

Mrs Green had been in a bad mood all day. So, when the words “Max Best- Heads office... NOW” cracked from her miserable mouth, my wanting to run all the way home and hide in a cupboard was understandable.

I had never been to the heads office before; and I was glad of it. Legend had it that nobody left the dragons cave without a horror-stricken tale to tell. One year had burst in to tears one quivering about wanted to keep her ‘precious teeth’.

As I set off from the classroom, I decided to brainstorm the possible ways I could evade capture, (well my inevitable handing in). The first plan that popped into my mind included living in the toilets for the rest of my miserable days. But I finally concluded that I’d prefer 10 minutes of roasting over a lifetime in some stinky toilets. Sorry ears.

Still without real concrete knowledge of my destination, I passed my favourite teacher Mr. King in the hallway.

“Hello Max” said the cheery art teacher. “Why the terrified look, I don’t bite!”

“Sorry Sir”, I replied “But I don’t think I’ll be present for art last period”

“Why ever not !” came his crestfallen response.

“I have a date” I joked (even though I was still worried, Mr King always cheered me up).

“Ahhh good for you Max! Did Hannah finally say yes?”

“No sir, with the head.”

“Uh-oh”, said my now worried teacher, “Nice knowing you”, and with that he left me to face my impending doom alone.

It felt was if all the eyes of everyone in the classes I passed were burning on the back of my skull. I started the ascent of the mountainous stairs leading to Mr. Wans office and momentarily felt the dark walls caving in on me, like in Star Wars. This was the moment I wished I had joined in at gym class- I could feel the stitch in my gut increase in pain with each step.

My mind left me and tried to understand why I was being sent to the Big Mans office. Maybe it was for the English homework that had somehow found its way into the washing machine, and forced me to redo it on the only paper I could find. Well toilet paper. My detention slip had read ‘ for making a stand against English homework in the most crude yet correct way possible. Mum wasn’t happy with that one.

Or It could have possibly been the time when I was caught vandalising the school toilets. This however was of course a simple misunderstanding regarding me and my brand new sharpie, and my form tutor bursting in only to see my guilty, yet innocent expression next to the words, ‘ Jamie Jackson in a BUM’ on written on the wall. (Suspiciously exactly the same as my handwriting. Still not proven though).

Panting, I reached the top of the stairs. With a heavy sigh I continued the walk of shame to the hell down along the corridor. I could feel the heat escaping the cracks of the door. After three sharp knocks, I heard the all-too-soft voice shape the words “Come in”. Trembling my hand creaked open the door; my head fell, ready to accept my fate.

“Ahh Master Best…”. Here it comes, brace yourself. “Sir” I replied, voice quivering.

“It has come to my attention that you are a big fan of English?”

 “Uhh yes?” There it was… The homework. Nice knowing you world.

“Well” he said, as I gulped, “ I just wanted to commend you on your winning the poetry competition. What a marvellous poem on toothpaste you wrote. Keep it up young man.”

I breathed a sigh of relief

And then he continued “And to congratulate you further, please accept your prize of a free pen and notepad to jot down your next winning ideas on.”

I graciously accepted my prize, thanked the head, and left his office.  As I walked back I couldn’t  help but feel a little bit disappointed. I was expecting an outrageous story to tell my friends when I got back. Maybe I’d make one up?

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