Steven
"Steven, how many times have I warned you?" Ms. Tadić yelled, her voice laced with worry. It was soft, yet packed with a sharpness that left no room for arguments.
I stared through the dirty window pane at the gray, gloomy sky threatening rain. Her hands gently wiped the blood from my split lip, the cold metal of her wedding ring skimming my cheek and making me shiver. I caught the scent of her perfume mixed with the sharp tang of iodine—a weird combination of high school and a hospital ward.
Ms. Tadić was one of the few people who looked at me like a human being, maybe even like her own kid. I never understood why she tried so hard. I guess she figured that under all those layers of rage, there was still something left worth saving.
"What are we going to do now, huh? You're risking getting your behavior grade lowered again. Why did you get into a fight, Steven?"
Her words echoed in my head, but I didn't feel a single shred of guilt. He swung first, didn't he? Why am I always the problem? I was just defending who I am. Everyone saw it, but nobody had the balls to say it out loud. At least, that's what I kept telling myself while my pulse pounded in my cheekbone.
"I'm fine, Ms. Tadić," I muttered, careful not to move my lip too much.
It stung instantly. I didn't ask her to play doctor; I'd seen way worse wounds than this tiny cut. It's not as bad as it looks from the outside. Not the first time, not the last... I thought to myself. I'd been in much worse spots—the kind where nobody brings out the iodine, and blood doesn't get wiped away with tissues.
"Are you going to tell me the truth?" She stepped right in front of me, locking me down with that sharp gaze that cut through any excuses before I could even make them.
"I was defending myself... This time I swear I didn't start it." My voice sounded completely hollow. I knew she didn't believe me; I'd lied to her too many times for my word to mean anything now when it actually mattered.
"You know the whole class is going to testify in his favor, right?"
"I know. I know I'm fucked, Ms. Tadić. You don't have to spell it out for me," I said honestly, feeling my stomach tighten. Most of them side with Ilija. He's got backup; he's got status. That's more than enough to make me the fall guy for this bullshit. The principal has hated my guts since day one. He's just waiting for the perfect moment to throw something in my face.
"Bite your lip," she said, opening the bottle of yellow liquid—the stuff that burns worse than the actual punch.
A strand of her light blonde hair fell across her face as she leaned toward me. She brushed it away nervously with her fingers, leaving a dark smudge of iodine on her own skin. That small clumsiness, that tiny mark on her face because of me, made me forget about the pain for a second.
She poured a few drops onto a cotton ball and gently pressed it against my split lip. It hurt; it burned like absolute hell. I'm not going to lie. I clenched my fists, digging my nails into my palms, and kept my mouth shut. I wasn't about to make a sound—I had to stay tough in front of her, even while the pain was eating up my face.
"There, all done. Just be careful when you eat, don't open it up again," she said, stepping back.
She crumpled the bloody cotton and tissues together and tossed them into the trash can by my feet. In that brief look she gave me, I could see a genuine, almost maternal worry—the kind I never got under my own roof. That silence between us felt heavier than any threat.
The strand of hair slipped down her cheek again as she snapped the metal first-aid kit shut. The clinking sound echoed through the room like the end of a round.
"Tadić?" I called out, my voice sounding a bit deeper.
"Yes, Steven?" She turned around, and her warm, brown eyes turned guarded for a second, like she was actively expecting some new kind of trouble.
"You missed your class because of me... again."
She smiled faintly, the way you smile at someone you can't help but like, even though you know they're walking trouble. "Since when did we become so informal?"
I shrugged, using that childish gesture to hide everything I was actually feeling. "Can I at least take you out for coffee?" I stood up from my chair and faced her, trying to look sharper than I already was, even though she had a full head on me.35Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ2brulPdtWu
"Thanks for the lovely offer," she said, holding her smile. "But I'm going to have to pass. Sit down, Steven."35Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡQvMPTKVhWE
She pointed a finger, telling me to get back in my seat and shut up. I sat down without a word, but I noticed her smile lingered for a second longer than it should have.
And then, the door swung open. No knocking, like a police raid.
My eyes shot straight toward it. Shit. My smile vanished faster than it had arrived. Principal Miller walked in alongside my mother. Of course they were together. It was like they'd been dying for this exact moment.
Without a word, he brushed past me and Ms. Tadić, let out a quiet sigh, and sank into his comfortable armchair. That sigh of his... it's always the same. Like I'd just personally ruined his life.
His hair was perfectly styled, and his face was tight, like he'd just stepped out of some kind of hell. He was wearing a black blazer and a crisp, white, well-ironed shirt.
My dear mother stood right in front of me. She didn't scream. That was the worst part. When she's quiet, that's when I know it's going to hit the fan later. Her sharp gaze cut right through me. I could see her cheeks twitching with nerves. She was furious. Who knows what lies he'd been feeding her on the way over here.
Ms. Tadić gathered her things. She passed by me, and so quietly it barely grazed the air in my ear, she whispered, "I can't help you anymore."
I know. You've already done too much. It's over, man.
She walked out, and the door closed slowly, like the gates of freedom slamming shut. I was left alone against the two of them. Old lineup, familiar script. I'd been used to this exact clinch since middle school.
"Steven, Steven... I can't deal with you anymore," the principal spoke, adjusting his glasses. "You're impossible, kid."
He sat behind his desk, which was buried under papers and grade books. He didn't even look at me, just shuffled the pile around as if searching for the verdict he'd prepared for me a long time ago.
I let out a short, dry laugh. I knew the verdict was already sitting somewhere in that pile, typed up and ready to go. He was just milking the moment before delivering it in front of my dear mother.35Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡAnsxcXnwt2
My mother started pacing around the office like a caged animal. A tight space, and her rage was way too big for it. Her face was flushed, her eyes filled with that manic look I saw every time she and my dad went at it at home. Looking at her, all I saw was irritation because she had to leave work, not a single ounce of worry for me.
"Go ahead and explain to your mother what you did this morning, Steven," the principal said. He gave me a smug, victorious smile—a real devil of a man. He was loving every single second of my misery.
Of course. Like I was back in middle school.
"Why don't you ask Ilija what he did?" I fired back immediately, keeping my eyes locked on him.
"Ilija?" He raised an eyebrow, his face putting on an expression of fake pity. "Steven, do you realize this is your seventh fight this month? School isn't a boxing ring. And it's not a stadium either."
The seventh. Sounds nice when you say it out loud, almost like some bizarre stat worth tracking. I'll admit, in the previous ones, I was usually the one looking for trouble, but now... this time was different.
"What was I supposed to do? Let him beat the shit out of me in front of everyone? I don't get it. I was just defending myself, goddammit!"
"Steven! Watch your mouth in front of the principal!" my mother shrieked. Her voice cracked suddenly, like she'd just been waiting for the perfect moment to explode.
Of course. The swear word and her damaged reputation were the problem, not the fact that my head was splitting open. She hadn't even asked if I was okay, how my lip was doing, or if anything hurt. No, she didn't give a rat's ass about me. All she cared about was what the neighbors and the teachers would think of us.
I felt my blood pressure spike, that familiar hot wave slamming straight into my brain. The blood was pounding in my temples like a drum in the North Stand. Is it really that hard for old heads to understand one simple thing—that I was defending myself? Ilija threw the first punch, everyone saw it, but nobody is going to utter a single word about it. Fear does strange things, and it's the easiest path to injustice.
Principal Miller slowly closed the folder. The sound of plastic slapping against paper echoed through the office like a guillotine. That was it. My death sentence, neatly packaged into one boring bureaucratic move.
"Listen here..." He paused, staring right into my eyes. "I can't tolerate you anymore. You've crossed every line." His voice was eerily calm, which was worse than any threat. It was that feeling when you know your opponent has won, and there is absolutely nothing you can do to flip the score.
"I'm going to have to expel you from this school. Enough is enough. You're being transferred to the School of Economics. The principal there is an old friend of mine."
He dropped the paper onto the desk, right in front of my mother. My transfer notice was lying there—more like my final sentence. This was my breaking point. Nobody asked me if I wanted to go; nobody consulted me. He'd planned the whole thing beforehand, stabbing me in the back with this expulsion while I was still stupid enough to believe in some kind of justice.
"You're expelling me over a stupid fight? A fight that, by the way, wasn't even my fault, but Ilija's?" I asked sarcastically. They're coddling his balls while they wipe me off the table like a stain.
"You didn't leave me any other option. If you blow this chance too, you can kiss your diploma and graduation goodbye."
My mother snatched that paper like it was a winning lottery ticket worth a million bucks. The look she shot me was pure venom.
"Do you hear what the man is telling you? I would've thrown you straight out onto the street, and he's actually giving you a fresh start! Thank the principal, right now!"
"Yeah, sure... whatever," I rolled my eyes. All that's left is to kiss his hand for kicking me out of school.
"Watch your mouth, Steven!" she shrieked, taking a step toward me, ready to slap me right across the face in front of him.
"There's no need for that, ma'am," the principal said calmly. "Let's just make sure his departure goes smoothly."
He stood up from his leather armchair and pointed a finger to show my mom where to leave her mark. "Just sign right here to show your consent. Here, take my pen." Without a single second of hesitation, my mother took his fancy pen and signed away my destiny.
The principal pressed his fingertips together and calmly watched the scene, enjoying the play he'd directed himself. That victorious attitude of his was eating me up inside even more than my mother's disappointment. He'd gotten rid of me with a single move, like tossing trash out of his office, and my dear mother was holding the bin for him. What an absolute asshole, I swear to God, man.
My mom doesn't even realize that he humiliated us way more than he's supposedly "helping" us...
"That will be all. You're dismissed. Steven, you don't need to return for the rest of your classes," was the last thing that came out of his corrupt mouth.
My mother grabbed her bag, and then she hit me with that specific look—the one that meant the car was the only place where nobody would hear her while she ripped into me.
"Move it, get outside. You're grounded until further notice, Steven," she muttered through her teeth.
I headed for the exit but paused right at the threshold. I turned around and looked at him one last time. He was already back to his computer, as if nothing had happened just moments ago. As if I'd never sat in that chair. As if I'd never even existed.
The office door slammed shut with a thud that echoed through the empty hallway. Classes were well underway. I walked slowly, while my mother paced rapidly ahead of me, muttering curses under her breath.
"Steven? What happened?" a familiar voice called out from behind my back. It was Ms. Tadić.
"Well, Ms. Tadić, looks like we won't be hanging out anymore," I said, flashing my classic, bitter smile. I felt the cut on my lip tighten again.
"What do you mean?" she asked, looking confused. Clearly, she wasn't part of the principal's inner circle, so she had no clue about his plans for me.
"I'm expelled... shit happens." The words hung in the hallway, heavy and dirty. I tried my best to hide what I was actually feeling, but the mask was starting to crack.
That fake smile was my only defense. And then my mother roughly yanked my shoulder. "Get in the car! Right now!"
I didn't have the energy to fight anymore. So I just complied and headed out without a single word.
Ms. Tadić was left standing in the middle of the hallway, motionless, as our footsteps drifted away and faded into the silence. I didn't turn around. I didn't know if I was finally leaving this hell for another, or if I was actually running away from the last place where someone had at least tried to understand me.
One thing I knew for sure. This was the last time I would ever see or talk to Ms. Tadić, my physics teacher.35Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡtNGD0Y7HcV
and then Add to home screen.