Frank got the door for him. An act that brought back memories of just two years ago, when he was (in)famous in the main office. There was a little giddiness in those memories, but this moment felt sad. Like someone still trying to dance as the DJ is packing up and the lights are coming on.

  Ms. Perkins typed away at her computer with her phone ringing, like it always was. Two other students sat in the chairs that lined the wall next to the doors. One looking remorseful, the other doubling down on whatever he did through angry demeanor. Damian didn’t remember his name, but he knew the angry kid from somewhere. They give each other the nod. Then Damian sizes the remorseful kid out of habit. As if he can’t help but react that way to seeming weakness. Though a bit of remorse does bubble up.

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  “And you were doing so well, Damian.” Ms. Perkins said without looking up. She smoothly transitioned to answering her phone, just to put the caller on hold. Her voice pitched up two octaves for her day-job-tap-dace voice for her ‘please hold’ spiel. As she put the phone down she said, “Mr. Reed will take him now.” Frank gestured him forward. They walked to the door beside her desk. “Damian,” she said in her real voice. “I don’t want to see you here anymore, you get that? I don’t like having to call your mom.” She didn’t look up. Damian nodded, ‘taking his lumps’ as his mother called it, and kept it pushing.