Go Ahead, Expel Me

During study hall, everyone in the classroom was going through their homework. Meanwhile, I had my earphones plugged in, playing a mobile game. My teacher and classmates all noticed this, but no one stopped me. After all, I was the state's top scorer. The headmaster gave me privileges, and I could spend my time how I wanted. However, the new dean of students had no idea. He snatched my phone away and bellowed, "What's your name? What do you think you're doing? Everyone else is working hard, so why aren't you?" With a deadpan face, I answered, "My name's Finn Wood." "You're at the top of your year, right? Just because you have good grades doesn't mean you get to disrespect your teachers! Everyone else is putting in the effort, and sooner or later, they'll catch up to you! You'll write a 5000-word reflection, and you're not going to bed until it's done!" I wrote two copies of the reflection. One for the dean, and the other for the headmaster. The reflection only had one string of numbers written on repeat. "154-XXX-XXX." Only the headmaster realized what number that was. It belonged to the headmaster of another high school. Chapter 1 New Dean Only the rustle of pen against paper scratched the air during study hall. I had my earphones in as I focused on my game. A year ago, I promised I would become the state's top scorer in exchange for two million for the headmaster and total freedom during my senior year. Ivory Chaucer, the girl who sat beside me, poked my shoulder. She kept her voice low and mouthed, "The teacher…" I ignored her. The homeroom teacher had long since turned a blind eye, but the scorching gaze from behind was bothering me. It was Leslie Zimmer, the perpetual number two, the one who was always beneath me. He clutched his pen so tightly that his veins bulged, his jealousy and venom almost palpable. I was about to complete my game when someone snatched my phone away. "What's your name?" I took my earphones out and raised my head, meeting the person's sharp gaze. I didn't recognize the middle-aged man with the square jaw. "How dare you fool around during study hall!" He held up my phone like it was some sort of evidence. "Everyone else is working hard, so why aren't you?" The classroom fell into silence. Everyone stopped writing and watched the scene furtively. "My name's Finn Wood," I said, my face deadpan. The man froze. Apparently, he knew my name. "You're at the top of your year, right?" He sneered. "Just because you have good grades doesn't mean you can flout the rules! I'm George West, the new dean of students! And I'm telling you, I'll be whipping this school into shape!" He raised his hand and slammed my phone against the concrete ground, and the screen cracked. "I'll help you kill the addiction. It's for your own good." He looked at me like he thought he was better, and he said coldly, "Everyone's working hard. Students as arrogant as you will eventually fall from the top." I looked at my phone, which flickered for a bit before the screen went dark. I said slowly, "The headmaster gave me permission…" "I don't care who gave you permission!" George interrupted me rudely. "I don't do special treatment here! Everyone must follow the rules!" Chapter 2 Fake Apology "Your behavior is ruining the air of hard work! You must be punished!" He jabbed a finger in my face. "You're giving me a 5,000-word reflection! I want to see it in my office by tomorrow morning, and you're not going to go to bed until you finish it!" The bell rang, and everyone started packing up. I slowly bent over and picked up the scrap metal. Leslie went by me. There was a smirk on his face, apparently gleeful about my predicament. He said softly, "Some people think too highly about themselves." I ignored him and went back to my seat, then took out two pieces of blank paper. As if that man was worth wasting my time writing a reflection for. I wrote my so-called reflection on the first paper, and a string of numbers on the second. It was already lights out for the dorms. I snuck out quietly and folded the first paper, then slid it through the crack under George's office door. I sent the second to the headmaster's office. … The next morning, I walked into the classroom, immediately noticing the shift in atmosphere. Ivory placed a new phone on my desk and said quietly, "The homeroom teacher told me to give you this. It's compensation from the school." I couldn't even get a word in before someone kicked the classroom's door open. George was standing at the entrance, his expression dark. He held up the sheet of paper with nothing but the word 'Reflection' written on it, glaring at me. "Get over here, Finn!" I stood up, but another silhouette came in a hurry and pulled him back. It was John Lawson, the headmaster. His forehead was drenched in sweat, and his tie was crooked. "Calm down, George!" He yanked George back so hard he was nearly dragging him. After they went into the corridor, he slammed the door shut. The door cut off most of the conversation, but we could vaguely hear John roaring with worry, "That's Samuel Hoffman's number! It's that sly old fox! Do you know what this means? If he leaves Peak High, we lose the millions, and our reputation tanks! You'd better apologize right now!" A few minutes later, the door opened again. John was standing at the entrance, and his smile was stiff and forced. Behind him was George, looking grimmer than ever, as if he'd been forced to do something unsavory. He trudged slowly toward my desk while everyone watched him in silence. George forced his words out. "I'm sorry for my rash behavior yesterday. I shouldn't have smashed your phone." He paused, as if he was enduring some sort of humiliation. "I've been informed of your special circumstances, and I'm sorry." He turned, walking away, but he was tense as a board. I knew this wasn't the end of it. His apology was barely skin deep, and there was no trace of sincerity in his eyes. I knew the war against me was just beginning. … During math class the following day, I put on my noise-canceling earphones as usual and was about to deduce a Fields' Medal-level hypothesis when someone pressed a hand over my notebook. It was Leslie. He adjusted his glasses and said almost bureaucratically, "New rules from Mr. West. To ensure discipline and the focus of students go uninterrupted, electronics are banned from all classes from today onward." Chapter 3 Foolishness Everyone's eyes fell on me. Some pitied me, some laughed quietly, while the rest were curious. I looked at Leslie and said nothing. "We're being fair." Leslie made an emphasis. "Mr. West said so." I tucked my notebook and earphones away and took out something for a competition. Leslie seemed disappointed, and he went back to his seat. … Then came spring cleaning on Friday. The headmaster would exempt me from things like these, but Leslie placed a broom on my desk. "No one's going to be exempt from building teamwork and pride. You'll be cleaning the men's room on the third floor. Mr. West's orders." I looked at him. He met my eyes fearlessly, and his gaze was filled with satisfaction from revenge. The worst confrontation happened in the cafeteria. I was holding my tray and looking for a seat when a student-athlete on the student council crashed into me, and his food spilled all over my clothes as if he had done it on purpose. "I am so sorry, Finn," he apologized sarcastically. "My hand slipped." Suppressed laughter broke out around us. I looked at my stained clothes and the wholly unapologetic boy, then quietly went to the faucet. Wasting my time with these nobodies wasn't on my agenda, but they had ruined my pace. I could've been spending my time tackling difficult practice problems, but instead, I was being interrupted over these pointless matters caused by people who didn't even matter to me. … The headmaster invited me to his office, his face filled with worry as he made me a cup of tea. "I know things have been rough for you these days. Mr. West can be stubborn and old-fashioned, but bear with him. I'll talk to him." "Sir," I interrupted, "my agreement gives me total freedom in how I study. I will not be tolerating this harassment campaign at all." That worried the headmaster even more. He sighed and summoned George. I stayed on the couch and listened to them argue in the office. "You're ruining him, John! Mollycoddled kids can't weather the real world! I'm building his character!" George's voice boomed. "You're building shit, that's what you're doing! You're pushing our top scorer away!" John's voice was filled with worry. "I stand my ground on this, headmaster! This is how I educate! No preferential treatment in my school! That's unfair to the other students who've been working hard!" The argument went on for fifteen minutes and ended with George screaming and slamming the door. John came out and waved me off, visibly exhausted, but he couldn't say a word. That told me his talks broke down. … When I returned to the classroom, the air itself was thick with something. A crowd was huddled around Leslie, discussing a physics question loudly. The guy would glance at me from time to time, daring me to do something. I went back to my seat. For the first time, I felt frustrated. Monday came, and the school organized a pep talk for the seniors. The field was packed. John said some hackneyed encouraging words and handed the mic to George. George cleared his throat, and his voice boomed across the field. "The SATs separate the elites from the riffraff, and only hard work can get you to the side of success! Consistent hard work, not cheap tricks or preferential treatment!" Chapter 4 Leaving His eyes swept across the crowd like a searchlight, and they fell on me. "Some of you flout discipline and rules just because they think they're smart. Here's a word of advice: it's not easy being number one. Sooner or later, someone will replace you!" Discussion spread among the crowd, and all eyes fell on me. George loved how this was playing out, and he announced, "And now, our brilliant student and valedictorian runner-up, Leslie Zimmer, will be giving his speech." Leslie straightened his uniform and strutted up the stage before taking the mic. He adjusted his thick glasses, scanned the crowd, and looked at me with disdain. "There's no shortcut when it comes to studying. You work for every mark on your paper. The people who think they're above the rules just because they know a trick or two is an insult to the people who've worked hard. The real fight, a fair fight, is just beginning!" Thunderous applause followed. I watched this D-rate show dispassionately. Once the pep talk was over, George found his way to the corridor and stopped me. … Meanwhile, Leslie followed him like a triumphant rooster. George had one hand behind his back, and he looked down at me. "Finn, in order to make sure you study like a real student and return to the right path, Leslie will be tutoring you from today onward." Before I could say anything, Leslie quickly spoke up. "I'll share all my notes with you, Finn! I'll make sure you catch up with everyone else!" George gave an approving nod and pointed at the books I was holding. "Also, hand over all those stupid books. You're a senior, so act like one. Don't waste your time on meaningless stuff." These books included the latest edition of On Quantum Field Theory and writings about string theory. The former was one I'd asked someone to send me from overseas. I looked at his hand, then at his face. His expression seemed to say only one thing. 'This is for your own good.' The last of my hope was gone. I said nothing as I handed over my books. "That's more like it." He happily patted the spines of the books as if they were his spoils of war. I left without even spending another moment of my time on them. … That night, the dorm room was filled with snores. I sat on my bed with the lights off. The silvery moonlight shone on the silhouettes of my sleeping roommates. This place was suffocating, so I quietly opened up my suitcase and started packing up. I tossed my books, clothes, notebook, and my notes George thought were useless into the suitcase, not making a single sound in the process. … At three in the morning, everything was packed up. I looked at the dorm that'd housed me for three years one last time, then I took out a pen and paper to leave one last message on the desk. It read, 'Here's the fair world you want.' I slung my backpack and pulled my suitcase as I left the dormitory in silence. I crossed the deserted field alone and disappeared into the night, never to return.