Trapped

The stupid metal knob wouldn't turn with just the half hold he gave it. Nate jammed the lunch bag under his arm, flung the backpack across his shoulder, then with the freed hand took a firm grasp and yanked the heavy door open. The final bell sounded overhead as he stepped into the classroom, but the disapproving look Mrs. Picker shot him squashed his relief.

"Late again, Nathan?" she asked with a sneer on the usual round and flushed face.

"Nah, I beat the bell," he answered. "This is your fourth tardy of the month. That's an automatic detention." "But I made it," he insisted. "I'll be sending a note home to your parents explaining your detention for the habit of arriving late." Nate bet she lived to relish moments like these. She responded to his glare with a tilted chin and arched brow. "Care to try for insubordination, too?" "No ma'am," he said then forced himself to say the phrase required of all students late for class. "Requesting permission to join the class, ma'am. I apologize for the disruption to my classmates."

"Very well, Nathan." She tugged at the hem of her jacket, and then recited the school's motto. "It's a wonderful day at Boston Preparatory." Nate resisted the urge to roll his eyes. A tardy student was required to acknowledge the motto before taking a seat. "Yes, ma'am. It is." He walked to the back of the class and took a seat next to his best friend Ell. He winked at her, and she hurriedly wrote on a slip of paper and passed it to him.

I told you to hurry! Why didn't you listen to me!!! Nate read the note and smiled. Elleana Rodriguez kept getting her role as his best friend confused with that of his mom's. He pulled a marker from his shirt pocket then scribbled on the back of the note: I ♥ u L, t...

... middle of paper ...

..."Sir, this morning Mrs. Picker called me late and I really wasn't. Can you do something about that? "You were seated in the class, and she called you late?" "Well, sort of, I stepped through the door right before the bell." Principal White smiled and shook his head. "Sorry. I'm not getting involved in that one."

"That's cool." Nate hunched his shoulder like it didn't matter. He opened the door and heard Principal White call: "Remember, Nathan, Mrs. Picker better not come down with a mysterious case of diarrhea, or somehow lock herself into a closet." Nate turned. Principal White waved a Kleenex from the tip of his ballpoint pen. "Truce."

Nate grinned. "She won't, sir." He would never have guessed The Hawk had a sense of humor, and might be okay. For a moment, he almost gave some consideration to the lecture he just endured, but that moment quickly passed.