I’m in the hot seat. The Assistant Principal’s office at West Rowan High School. Called out of class and summoned like a common criminal for crimes against humanity. Violations of code and general principle. I can’t think of what I’ve done. The Assistant Principal is glaring at me. “What did I do?” I ask. “You know what you did,” he replies.
This strategy probably works well with hardened criminals and the usual lowlife malcontents who drift into his purview after being snatched up from the barren patch of grass outside shop class that is the Smoking Area. They stew in their own juices for a while before coming clean and apologizing to God and man and swearing never to do it again. The problem I’m having is I really can’t think of what I might have done to end up here.
The Silver Line 