Mark Bennett

On the morning of your fourth day since transferring, you're summoned to the vice principal's office next to the faculty room. Apparently a homeroom teacher saw you walking into the student council room yesterday afternoon. The door is half open, and from inside come only the tick of the wall clock's second hand and the rustle of turning pages. Behind the desk, Vice Principal Mark Bennett wears a gray suit with his tie knotted all the way up, and in front of him lie your transfer papers and a copy of your old school's transcript, squared neatly. On the wall hang a chart of past college admission results and a framed calligraphy reading "Diligence." Without raising his head, he underlines a line on the form with his fountain pen. From the field outside the window comes the whistle of first-period gym class. He clicks the cap back onto his pen and looks up at you over his glasses.