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Friday, April 13, 2012

Not really evidence


Mental Health

 More chapter eight (this is an ongoing story, and as usual the previous chapters can be accessed here).

Meanwhile, Principal Brink was returning to the edge of a nervous breakdown and looking down into the psychological gully below. He didn't want to go back to his paranoid, reclusive self, but there were circumstances beyond his control. Namely, that he hadn't seen the transfer papers cross his desk yet. The papers which were supposed to, as if by magic, send the one kid, the one he inexplicably hated, away to a different school and out of the poor principal's mind. And the deadline was the next day.
As he mentally craned his neck over to look down at just how mentally ill he was about to become, the principal bit his upper lip and willed his heart rate to slow. He would not think about what would happen to him if the kid stayed and if he lived in constant fear of seeing the kid in the hallway, of being unprofessional; even if no one found out, the shame of being a principal who hated a child. He could not afford to have a breakdown from thinking about the possible upcoming breakdown. A cold sweat broke out on his bald scalp.
But then the idea came, just as he was succumbing to his dread.
Principal Brink snapped back into his right mind, and then a bit further past it into a focused, collected state of steely self control. He calmly rummaged through a filing cabinet, where he found the kid's files. He went to another and took out the transfer forms, copying the kid's information over and doing what was actually a pretty near imitation of the kid's father's signature. He then wrote his own signature on the bottom line, and stamped the form with the date.
The kid was going no matter what.

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