The rough edge of the window frame dug into my ribs as I struggled for balance, one half of my body inside, the other dangling helplessly outside in the cool evening air. Dust clung to my palms, and a faint smell of old wood and paint filled my nose from the room.
"You again?"
The Principal's voice cut through the silence like a blade.
My heart jolted, then stuttered, losing its rhythm entirely. I froze.
Slowly, I turned my head but I could not see him, but I could smell his perfume (Vanilla mixed with Gal Pacino) so well I knew he stood a few feet behind me,
"Why are you here?" he asked. "Are you attempting to break into a restricted building?" His voice was calm. The kind of calm that made things worse because it sounds like it is from a killer instinct.
"Sir...I wont call it breaking in…I prefer to think of it as an unexpected life choice," I muttered, shifting awkwardly, my leg slipping slightly against the wall.
"Unexpected life choices?" he repeated, stepping closer. His shoes echoed softly against the tiled floor. "Would you like me to leave you there? As an expected life choice?"
I let out a small, nervous laugh.
"Sir, have you not heard that humans make bad decisions daily?" I said, trying to sound playful despite the strain in my voice and the very real possibility of being stuck here forever.
"Yes," he replied smoothly like he was thinking about a comeback. "And I will make one right now by leaving you here. How about that?"
My fingers tightened against the frame as his steps faded.
Okay… time to play my card.
"Well…..." I said, forcing confidence into my tone, "if something bad happens to me, Andrew will take it up. And if the press finds out…" I paused for effect, a smirk tugging at my lips even though he couldn't see it. "…you might lose your job."
Silence.
I thought I had lost until;
"Fine." His voice was clipped. "Three weeks of detention. With full labour of punishment."
My breathing paused, my heart skipped a bit.
Labour of punishment is a student nightmare in this school. It involves extra hours during and after school hours, scrubbing floors, wiping tables, cutting of grass, doing the kind of work no one ever volunteers for.
"No," I said quickly. "One week. No labour of punishment."
"Are you bargaining?" he asked, and this time, there was clear shock in his tone.
"Yes, please sir" I said, lifting my chin slightly despite my ridiculous position. "I am."
A pause.
"You are not ready," he said flatly and turned to walk away.
My smirk vanished instantly.
Panic surged through me, I moved my legs rapidly like a toddler trying to get attention from his mum.
"Sir!" I called, my voice sharper than I intended. "Sir, please…."
He didn't stop.
"I'll take it!" I blurted out. "I'll take it, please don't leave me here!"
He left…..after a while of whining, he stood right in front of me. He came inside to help me out.
Slowly he walked over to me, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied me—half-stuck, dusty, and very much at his mercy.
"These children…" he muttered under his breath.
Then, louder:
"Two weeks of detention and community service with the cleaning unit."
I exhaled, my body sagging in relief despite the uncomfortable position.
"Deal," I said quickly, before he could change his mind.
For a moment, he simply stared at me—really stared this time—taking in the ridiculous picture I made: dust-streaked, half-folded through a window like a badly packed suitcase.
Then he sighed.
"Honestly," he muttered, stepping closer, "I wonder how you students will survive outside this school."
"I ask myself that sometimes too, sir," I replied weakly.
"Quiet." I pressed my lips together at his call.
He moved closer, examined the situation like it was a puzzle he regretted agreeing to solve. His hands hovered for a second, as if debating whether I was even worth the effort.
"On my count," he said finally. "You will push forward, not sideways, not downwards but forward."
"Yes, sir."
He held my hands, ready to drag me out.
"And also try not to make this worse than it already is." He added.
No promises.
"One… two… three."
I pushed while he dragged.
Pain shot through my sides as the frame scraped against my waist. My shirt snagged on a jagged edge, and for a terrifying second, I thought I was genuinely stuck forever like some tragic warning story future students would whisper about and also another problem,
"What if my skirt tears?"
"Push," he said firmly. He places his hand around my waist and then pulled me.
"I am pushing!" I gasped.
"Clearly, not effectively."
I gritted my teeth and shoved harder.
With a sudden, graceless lurch, I tumbled forward straight into his embrace…...then on the floor....
He hits the ground while I fell on him….The impact knocked the air out of my lungs, and for a second, all I wanted to do was just lie there but the on the principal…..nopee…...I hurriedly stood up.
My head screamed freedom although painfully and embarrassing but I am free.
The Principal stood up dusted off himself like he had just completed a major chore.
I pushed myself up slowly, wincing as I brushed dirt off my clothes. There I noticed that a part of my skirt had torn from the impact. I held the part and then decided to; 'Play it cool'
"Thank you, sir," I said, trying to sound at least a little dignified.
"You're welcome," he replied dryly. "Although I'm not entirely convinced I made the right decision."
I gave a small, awkward smile.
"What," he said, "were you doing in a restricted building at this hour?"
"Ah, we are back to that question." I thought and dare not say it out.
"I—uh…" I started, then stopped. Because somehow, every excuse I had sounded worse than the truth.
His gaze didn't waver.
"Take your time," he said. "You seem very good at making… unexpected life choices."
I swallowed.
The hallway suddenly felt colder as we walked out together.
"I was just… looking for something," I said carefully.
"What exactly?" He asked but since I had nothing to say I went quiet.
"You start on Monday." He said. "Now get out" He ordered.
I walked out slowly holding my ripped skirt while he followed behind. He pushed me a little so I can increase my pace.
We got outside, he locked the doors and kept the key in his pocket.
"What is your name?" He asked.
"Jane sir"
"Jane…" He called the name like he was testing how the name would sound if he called it.
At this point he had a different look, it wasn't that of anger, it wasn't fear, it was something that I could place but I am pretty sure that something is wrong.
"Sir…" I called out. "Are you fine?"
"I will be" He said and left first. He looked so deep and lost in thought.
He didn't look back.
I stood there for a moment, clutching the torn edge of my skirt, watching his retreating figure disappear into the dim hallway before walking to my dorm.
ON my way, I couldn't help but think about the number on the letter.
Is it a count down?
Or??