Chapter 5

One week later.

Early in the morning, within the quiet estates of Old Bullworth Vale, the privileged denizens of Bullworth's upper class side were busily going about, carrying out the day's usual routine of the rich's activities.  Husbands went out to tend to their inherited fortunes, housewives gathered for coffee and gossiped about the ones who were absent, and their children were all about shopping with their credit cards or busily socializing to keep their status within the circle.  Except for one family.

Within the otherwise sunny and luxurious suburbs of the Vale, stood house number twenty, the shadowy dwelling that was home to the Smiths.  Settled in the corner of the block that surrounded the Happy Endings Retirement Home, the dull, pale green structure stood on the edge of a dirt path that led to the cemetery.

Living within was Glenda Smith, a woman who had devoted her life to tending to all matters concerned within the house.  She was tall and broad shouldered, and her short auburn hair, which she loosely held back with a folded yellow bandana most times, ended in an old fashioned upwards flip.  A young woman in her late thirties, she hid the stresses of her life behind an even coat of make-up, along with a love of bourbon and a pack-a-day habit.  Typically the subject of discussion among the gossiping circles of other housewives, she managed to retain a mask of composure and regality despite this.

Living with her was her husband, Harold Smith.  Taller than his wife, he could be a large and imposing man when he wanted to be.  Currently in his early forties, he had hair that was a faded version of the one in his youth, and the stern demeanor of a person who had little to laugh about.  Harold was once a man who devoted his life to his family, but had long since relegated the task to his considerable income.  Within Bullworth's judicial system where his name was venerated, he had influence and respect, an atmosphere not duplicated at home, so he buried himself in his work.  Deadlines and procedure now occupied his life.

With them now was their only son, Gary, who was currently making faces while his parents stared him down as he took his daily medication.  He glared at them before he popped the last one in his mouth and clenched his fist as it ripped its way down his throat.  He clapped the small paper cup down forcefully onto the counter.

"Open," Mrs. Smith said holding out her hand.

Gary turned his face towards her and opened his mouth.  Mrs. Smith took his chin in her hand and tilted his head side to side.

"Lift the tongue," she ordered.

Gary rolled his eyes and sighed though his open mouth as he obeyed.  Mrs. Smith angled her eyes around and, much to Gary's dismay, stuck her finger inside, pulling his cheeks out and scrutinizing every corner.  She finally retracted her finger and released his face when she was satisfied.

Gary smacked his tongue against the roof of his mouth in disgust and took an extra sip of the water left in his cup.  He nursed the inside of his cheek with his tongue where his mother's long nails had scratched him.

"I took my pills," he huffed, "You don't have to conduct a cavity search."

"You can tell me that when you give us reason to trust you again," Mrs. Smith said wiping her finger off with a tissue.

'Again.'  Rather generous of his mother.  Gary's eyes shifted to his father.  Mr. Smith stood rigid with his arms crossed, eyes steady on his son and frowning.  Most times the man looked at his son he was frowning.  It was nothing special for Gary.  The man hadn't said anything to him yet all morning either.  Also not remarkable.

"Come along," his mother ushered him, "We have to pay a visit to your parole officer.  Then after that you need to see your therapist again."

"Oh, goody," Gary said making his way to the door.

His mother flicked him on the ear.

"Ow! What?"  He clutched the side of his face.

His mother only glared at him.  There was still the same stern look from his father.  Gary turned back around and grumbled his way into the back seat of their car.

* * * *

Melissa sat hunched, elbows on her desk, chin in her hands, and the heavy weight of boredom resting on her attention span.  Math.  Ick.  Not that she was particularly poor at the subject, but the brunette had a hard time seeing how the quadratic formula was going to be applicable to her later in life.  About the only thing that kept her awake was the entertaining sight of nearly the entire female student body swooning over the instructor, Mr. Bickford.  As she understood it he was a new addition this year.  Apparently the last one left due to some controversial conduct.

Mr. Bickford worked out a problem on the board as he explained how to find a slope on a graph:

"The slope equals the rise over the run.  So on this graph," he pointed to one he drew on the board, "you would count up two squares, which is the rise, then count over three squares, which is the run.  That means this line's slope is two over three, or two thirds."  He turned to the class and stretched his sculpted lips into a smile.  Melissa swore his teeth literally sparkled.  "Get it?"

There was a collective sigh and then a dreamy nod of heads from the rest of the female half of the class.  The male half all glanced between themselves in bewilderment.  Melissa pushed back a smile.

"Good, lets do another problem."  He turned back to his board.

She had to admit, Mr. Bickford was very easy on the eyes.  Tall, dressed casual, but sharp with dirty blonde hair and green eyes.  He looked young, maybe mid twenties, couldn't have been any older than thirty.  However, Melissa didn't get the impression that he had been teaching long, if he had at all.  The instructor seemed sketchy with the lessons at times, and he often made mistakes in class when he was working out a problem.

And then, as if on cue, "…then you want to multiply by 'm' on both sides to-"

A hand shot into the air.  "E-Excuse me, Mr. Bickford."

He turned around, chalk in hand still hovered over the board.  "Yes?"

It was that squirrelly looking girl, Beatrice.  Melissa remembered her name because Jimmy had talked unfavorably about her a few times before.  Her voice was shaky and timid.  "You mean to divide 'm', not multiply.  So that it cancels out on the other side."

Mr. Bickford turned back to the problem and stared at the board for a moment.  He caught the mistake and the corners of his mouth turned downward as he sighed impatiently.  His fingers swiped over the board and made the correction.  "Yes.  You're right.  Thank you, Beatrice.  Again."

She adjusted the oddly outdated cat eye frames on her nose and beamed.  "You're welcome, Mr. Bickford."

The pony tailed brunette sitting behind her - Mandy, Melissa remembered - jabbed a knuckle right in the spine of the poor Nerd.  Beatrice yelped and arched in her seat, grabbing her back.  At the front of the class room, the instructor was still engrossed in his lesson.

"Good job, Miss Teacher's Pet," Mandy hissed as she leaned forward, "Maybe next time you can get him to marry you and have passionate nights of counting pi together.  Then you can have nerdy little zit faced, math wiz babies."

A red-head - Christy, Melissa recognized- snickered next to her.

"Yeah, right," Mandy continued, "Liked he'd ever want to get close to your ugly, infected face.  Why don't you leave this kind of game to the big leagues?"

Mandy and Christy shared an underhand high-five beneath their desks.  Beatrice hunched over and sulked.  Mandy then turned and caught Melissa staring at the three.

She turned her nose up at the shorter girl.  "What are you looking at, Puke Face?"

Melissa frowned.  A sinking sensation of embarrassment and anger rolled around in her stomach.

"What?" Mandy teased, "Are you gonna puke on me?"

Mandy began making fake retching noises while sticking out her tongue and puffing her cheeks out.  Next to her, Christy had a hand over her mouth while she chortled out suppressed giggles.  Melissa felt her face start to burn.  The same sensation of being weighted to the floor overcame her, just as in the cafeteria her first day.  She wished she could say something back, felt the urge push itself against her throat, but it was if her jaw was welded shut.

"Miss Wiles!"

Mandy jumped in her seat and clutched her desk for dear life at the sound of Mr. Bickford's voice.

"I'm sure whatever inside joke you are doing is hysterical, but you can make faces after class.  Right now, I need your eyes on me."

Mandy's eyes relaxed and she leaned forward in her seat, resting her chin in her hands.

"My pleasure," she replied flirtatiously and batted her eyes.

There was a pause from the instructor.  "Good," he said awkwardly.  He eyed her suspiciously for a moment before turning back to the board.

Mandy sat back in her seat, crossed her arms, and rolled her eyes, though Melissa could see the slightest hint of red playing across the cheerleader's face.  Beatrice bit her lip as she stifled a giggle.  Mandy's face twisted contemptuously and she punished the Nerd with another well aimed knuckle to the back.

Melissa pursed her lips together and quickly turned away before she got caught within Mandy's wrath again.  Her eyes stopped short, however, when they caught onto a raven haired, wiry, Hispanic boy across the classroom, who promptly averted his gaze back to his desk upon discovery.  Melissa frowned.  That had to have been the tenth time she caught that boy staring at her.  And that was just this class period alone.  For the past week she kept catching him looking at her in class, and she could swear that he had been following her around.  Everywhere she went on campus, he seemed to be there.  She was thankful they only shared Math together.  English class seemed to be the only way to escape him.

The bell rang, and as usual the class dismissed itself without the teacher's prompting.  Melissa gathered her things and hurried out the door as swiftly as she could.  She walked briskly down the hall, glancing back at the door.  Zoe popped out from one of the hallways and swerved in next to her.

"Hey," she said trying to catch up, "Why are we walking so fast?"

"Trying to loose someone," Melissa said breathlessly, her voice bouncing with her steps.

"Who?"

She snuck another glance over her shoulder and caught the boy just as he ducked behind an aisle of lockers.

"This boy keeps following me wherever I go.  I keep seeing him everywhere."

"You have a stalker?"  Zoe's eyes darted around.  "Where is he?"

Melissa only glanced sideways at her, trying not to turn her head.  "He's this skinny Hispanic kid with black hair.  He's wearing a long sleeved vest."

Zoe tried to discreetly take a peak behind her.  She caught the aforementioned boy.  He quickly spun around on his heal and whistled, trying to look like he was going the other way.

"That's the guy that's following you?"

"Yeah."  Melissa frowned.  "It's creepy."

"That's Constantinos Brakus."

"I don't care who he is, I just want him to stop following me!"

"Hold on, we need to stop at my locker."

The two girls took a detour past the cafeteria and curved around to the lockers on the east side of the building.  Zoe shoved her books inside and quickly pulled out a small packet of something that she hid in her hand.  She looked over Melissa's head to catch Constantinos rounding the corner.

"Come on," she gestured with a jerk of her head, "We'll talk in the bathroom."

They darted across the hall, before the stalker could catch up to them, and ducked inside.  Zoe opened the small pack in her hand and Melissa finally saw what it was.  Cigarettes.  The red head stuck one in her mouth and pulled a lighter from underneath the waistband of her skirt.  She lit it up and took a long draw.  The smoke floated out from her lips with a pleasant sigh.

"Don't tell Jimmy.  He's been trying to get me to quit.  I just needed a quick fix.  No big deal."

Melissa was still paused at the sight.  She stopped before her brain considered too much of the situation of deceit going on though, and she shook her head, not wanting to seem lame.

"Yeah.  That's cool.  No sweat."  She coughed and leaned against the sinks to dodge the smoke.

Zoe took another puff.  The smoke blew out in tufts as she spoke.  "So this kid.  You know why he's stalking you?"

"No."

"He say anything to you?"

"No.  And I don't like to say he's stalking me.  He just seems to be following me a lot."

Smoke blasted out of Zoe's nostrils as she snorted.  "Without any explanation or attempt to come up to you.  That's stalking.  You think he sneaks into the dorm and spies on you while you dress?"

Melissa's jaw dropped and her eyes widened.  She clutched her books to her chest.  "Ew.  I hope not."

Zoe waved the idea away.  "Anyway, how long has he been stalking you?"

Melissa sighed and nervously shuffled her feet.  She wished Zoe would stop using that word.  "About a week now."

Smoke shot out of her face again.  "He's gonna try an' kill you."

"Zoe!"

"What?  I'm just saying you should probably look out.  I didn't say he was going to kill you."

A sound of disbelief escaped the brunette.  Zoe laughed.

"I'm just kidding.  He probably likes you."

Melissa blinked.  "He does stare at me a lot in class."

"There you go."  She patted the shorter girl on the shoulder.  "Congrats.  You got your first guy here crushing on you already.  You're a fox."

Melissa laughed awkwardly in embarrassment.  Zoe burst out in teasing laughter.

Then Mandy entered the bathroom.  The laughter stopped; suddenly all the fun had somehow been sucked out of the room.  Melissa froze, as if all the cigarette smoke in the room would help to keep her hidden.  It was like the cheerleader had a subconscious homing device that targeted her whenever she was too happy.

Mandy eyed the two other girls.  "Trailer Trash.  Puke Face."  She walked leisurely towards a stall.  "Enjoying your cancer sticks?"

Zoe's eyes narrowed.  "Enjoying your bulimia?"

Mandy gave a sneer and quickly ducked into the stall.  Zoe ran her cigarette under a faucet and tossed it into the trash can.  She reached in her boots for a pack of mints and Melissa followed her as she stormed out.

Zoe popped a mint into her mouth.  "I hate that bitch."

Melissa looked to the ground.  "Yeah, me too."

* * * *

"You see, Kowalski.  It's a pecking order," Dr. Crabblesnitch said, "A hierarchy, if you will."

The head and his head boy walked leisurely through the campus courtyard in another one of their mandated private meetings.  Dr. Crabblesnitch walked with long strides, talking in an altruistic tone and making courtly gestures, while Petey jadedly followed along side with pen and paper.  The headmaster continued with his musings.

"There are the good boys and girls, and there are the delinquents.  And then there's us.  The authority.  People like you and I who take it upon ourselves to ensure that everyone stays in line.  We don't do this for satisfaction or personal gain, we do this out of a sense of duty.  Because it's what we're best at.  And we are the best at it.  People like you and me find ourselves drifting to these positions of power because it is our calling to ensure the proper order of things.  That's what I sense in you, boy.  A true potential for keeping order.  Control is key to the success of this fine institution.  It's what makes us stand out from the rest.  Remember that, boy.  Are you listening, Kowalski?"

"Yes, sir,"  Petey droned out numbly.

"You are taking notes?"  Dr. Crabblesnitch said, more as a statement,  "I should see that pen moving.  These are important things to know."

Petey sullenly looked at his left hand, trying to work the cramp out.  "Yes, sir."

The small boy put his pen back to his notepad, and the head master continued walking through the campus courtyard, carrying on with the usual gravitas he always bore.

"Now, where was I?  Ah yes.  Authority.  That would be us.  And without us, there would be chaos.  As I said before, there are the good students and there are the delinquents.   The good young boys and girls of this fine establishment are the ones who will grow up and leave this school to become upstanding citizens of our society.  They are the children who are the outcome of our guidance.  But there will always be the occasional ruffian who comes along and causes trouble.  It's our job to put these scoundrels in their place.  Fixing naughty little children is what we've always done best here at Bullworth.  Take that young Jimmy Hopkins friend of yours, Kowalski.  When he first arrived at this school he was one of the worst hoodlums I'd ever seen.  But with time and skill, slowly, but surely, I began to fix and mend the cracks of that Hopkins boy.  By the end of the school year he became the fine, upstanding young man he is now.  In fact, he was the one student last year who showed outstanding commitment to preserving the sanctity of this institution when he told me who the culprit of the riots were so that I could stop the criminal activity immediately."

Petey looked up at Crabblesnitch and rolled his eyes behind the head master's back.  Yeah, except Jimmy wasn't exactly a student at the time.  Either the head didn't realize that Petey already knew the real truth of what happened, or the man simply chose to pretend he didn't.  One thing was for certain, however, the man liked to be in denial.  But Petey said nothing, and allowed him to live in his own delusions if only to avoid being reprimanded.  The tall head master continued.

"You see, Kowalski, we give naughty little boys, like Hopkins, a second chance.  When all other schools fail to instill good, moral values in these little villains, we are called upon to discipline them.  We receive the worst of the worst, but that's only because we're the best.  Every student who comes to our establishment will all graduate as upstanding young adults."

They climbed up the stairs at the rear of the school and passed the large Bullhorn fountain at the south end of the campus courtyard.  Crabblesnitch gazed briefly at Harrington House.

"Of course, there will always be those who naturally outshine the rest of the group - there will always be those destined for greatness.  But the point is, every student will get the chance to succeed and grow up into contributing members of society who follow the rules."

After a brief time and several more steps later, Petey realized the head had suddenly become unnervingly quiet.  The small boy braved a curious glance up from his pen and paper to his head master's face.  The principle continued to walk at a leisurely pace, but the normally harsh features of the man's face had become hardened even still.  His brow became knitted and the lines around his pursed lips became even more apparent.

"Though it is not always only the delinquents,"  the head master finally said after a time,  "that one has to look out for.  Just because one naughty case has been fixed, doesn't mean it's over.  And just because one little boy or girl is good, doesn't mean they'll always stay that way."

Petey remained silent, but continued to look at the head master.  He'd stop writing at this point.

The headmaster's face made a brief grimace.  "The job is never done.  Some members of this school will finally reach the standard that Bullworth demands of them, and then from the highest levels of prestige and trust, just slip right through your fingers when you're not looking."

They finally stopped, and both stood atop the steps overlooking the football field.  There were of course the scattering of ever present Jocks stretching and jogging around.  Across the field, the large scoreboard stood blank, no power running through to light up any of the displays.  The absence of the once ubiquitous screeching from Mr. Burton seemed to leave a gaping emptiness in the area now.  Petey didn't notice it before, but now the silence was somehow eerie.  Deafening, almost overwhelming.

"Everyone needs to be watched,"  the head master said, running his scrutinizing eyes over the field.  He turned his head and looked at Petey.

"Even the ones who seem to already have their noses clean."

* * * *

For the bazillionth time that day Constantinos cursed the pure embodiment of evil and ass-hattery that was Gary Smith.  And he had no more time to do this than when he was watching Puke Girl eat lunch with the Three Musketeers.  Actually, this time they were minus a musketeer, leaving her only in the company of the Fire Crotch Duo.  Number three was surely off somewhere bent over underneath the head master, giving Ms. Danvers a break.  He wondered why the hell he had decided to put off lunch in order to watch the idiots talk about Jimmy's clothes and tell bad jokes to each other.  Again he lamented Gary and his knack for manipulation.

Constantinos heaved a sigh of relief and mouthed a "thank you" to the sky when the bell finally signaled the end of the lunch period.  From behind the corner of the Main Building he fidgeted and waved his hand in a "move along" gesture as "Casper" and Fire-Crotch One said good-bye to Fire-Crotch Two.  Once the punk poser was gone, Napoleon-Complex turned to "I-Like-Hair-From-The-Seventies" as per usual.  Constantinos took the time to snap some photos.

Would she like to hang out?  Of course she would.  But not before changing out of her uniform.  That was fine, she would be meeting Freckle Face by the bike garage, then.  Sounds super groovy!  And then both of them jumped and froze in a mid-air high-five while credits rolled up from the ground.  At least, in his head they did.

Constantinos backed up against the wall and tried to look inconspicuous as Jimmy turned round the corner and passed him on the way to the west parking lot.  Luckily he wasn't noticed.  Peeking out around the building again, he saw his target enter the large circular path link between the two dorms.  He dashed behind a protruding pilaster against the bricked walled planter and then again behind another one when she cleared into the main strip leading to the Girls Dorm.

Half way down Melissa paused.  The area around the dorm before her was deserted but there was a creeping sensation at her nape.  She turned behind her.  For a split second she thought she saw movement, but no one was in sight.  Melissa's skin tightened and her eyes narrowed.  She turned around and continued walking to the dorm.  Constantinos stood rigid behind his cover.

Eventually he dared a peak around the corner.  She had already cleared her way into the courtyard around the dorm and was now out of his sight.  Briskly, he tiptoed his way to the other end of the straight away and peered around the planter wall again.  He had just caught her rounding the cornering of the dorm and heading to the side entrance.  As he hurried over to the left of the building, he absently mused over how bored he must have been to actually bother following her this closely.  He was oddly surprised however, when he peered around the corner and did not see Melissa going through the side entrance, but into the back alley behind the dorm.  His curiosity now piqued he carefully made his way to the edge of the alleyway and when he walked in, she was no where to be found.

Constantinos stood dumbfounded for a moment and looked down the alley.  He knew he just saw her turn into here, but it was like she had suddenly vanished.  Constantinos huffed in irritation.

"Whatever," he said under his breath.  What a waste of time.  Why the hell was he even bothering anyway?  He turned around to leave.

Then suddenly he was grabbed.

The world spun around him, and in the brief panic Constantinos reflexively blurted out, "Ah! Don't hurt me!" as he was pinned to the wall.  Melissa stood before him, her hands on his shoulders.  She paused for a moment in bafflement at the boy's wimpy outcry.  Constantinos recovered and tried to hide his embarrassment behind a contemptuous glare.

"Why do you keep following me?" Melissa asked.

"Get offa me will ya?" Constantinos whined while he tried shrugging her hands off his shoulders, "Where the hell did you come from, anyway?"

She looked at him.  "From behind the dumpster."

Constantinos looked over at the near by dumpster he hadn't bothered to look behind before.  He kept wiggling.  "Let go of me already!  You're crushing my spine."

"No," she said, gripping his shoulders firmer.

The wiry boy kept struggling.  "Why?  What do you want with me?  What did I do?"

"You keep following me all over the place," she said, "It's driving me nuts."

His eyes widened a bit.  "No I haven't!  I was just trying to pass through!"

"Behind the Girl's Dorm?"

"Hey I get around however I want to get around.  I don't tell you where to walk."

"Yeah, except you've been going wherever I've been going."

"No I don't."

She leaned on him more.  "Yes you do.  You've been following me around for the past week."

He struggled some more.  "I don't know what you're talking about.  Why the hell would anyone want to follow you around anyway?"

Melissa paused but held him firm in her grasp.  She narrowed her eyes and her voice lowered.  "Do you...like...me?

Constantinos's eyes grew wide with horror.  "Oh God, no!  No way!" he shook his head furiously, "No!  It's nothing like that!  I mean I would never..."

Melissa frowned and huffed.  "Thanks.  So then you at least admit you have been following me."

Constantinos said nothing.

"Tell me why," Melissa demanded.

He was still silent.  He just looked at her.  She pursed her lips and sighed through her nose.

"If you don't stop following me around, I'm gonna have to tell Jimmy to get yo-"

His eyes nearly bulged out of his head.  "NO!  Don't tell Jimmy!  Please, whatever you do, just don't tell him."

She eyed him curiously now.  "Why not?"

"Please...," he pleaded, his hands clasped, "Just don't tell him.  If Jimmy found out why I was following you he would kill me."

She narrowed her eyes again.  "Why are you following me?"

Constantinos silently stared helpless at Melissa.

* * * *

"You WHAT?"

"She had me pinned against a wall," Contantinos said around food, "I had no choice."

"You could have at least had a little spine," Gary leaned in and spat from across the booth table.  The two sat across from one another at Burgers.

The Hispanic boy glared and swallowed his burger.   "She was going to tell Jimmy if I didn't tell her."

Gary leaned back, crossed his arms, and snorted derisively.  "I couldn't give a crap about whether that pasty caveman knew anything about what I was doing."

Constantinos waved a fry around.  "Well, I'm not freaking risking getting my ass kicked again by Hopkins just so you can feel like a super villian again -- Oh and, F.Y.I., super villians are not cool, and nobody cares about how badass you think you are."

"And F.Y.I., everybody still remembers how sad and pathetic you still are, and Pinky is still never going to go for neurotic football mascots," Gary threw back.

Constantinos sneered.  "Hey, fuck you.  At least I still have a school to go to.  And when I do something criminal, at least I don't get caught."

The scarred boy practically hissed.  "I'm not the one here who's a complete moron that can't even accomplish the simple errand of chasing some dumb bimbo around."

The Bullworth student widened his eyes.  "You call that an errand?  I went on a spy mission and risked my life for you.  Explain to me the simplicity in that."

Gary impatiently waved a dismissive hand at the other boy.  "Whatever.  Just tell me what you got."

Constantinos reached into a mustard yellow envelope that was lying next to his food tray, pulled out a pile of full blown, black and white photos and slapped them onto the table in front of Gary.  "Well everyone thinks she's a loser, so she's not friends with anyone else.  Mandy seems to hate her the most.  Her records say she has a house in Maine, but then she suddenly came here.  I have no idea why.  She hangs out with pretty much Jimmy only, so she's also friends with Petey and that Townie.  Other than that, not much else.  Average grades, and the teachers don't really notice her."

Gary's face remained placid at the mention of Petey.  He was shuffling though the pile of photos.  "That's it?  That's all you got?"

The wiry boy balked.  "What do you mean, 'that's it?'  I worked my ass off to get this stuff on her."

"Well I thought after a week you would have had something useful," the scarred boy said, glaring impatiently, "What are her flaws?  Her dirty secrets?"

"I don't know, I didn't interview her.  Do you want me to find out what her sign is too?" the other boy mocked.

"I wanted you to do the fucking job I asked you to do.  These photos are terrible."

"Well I'm sorry to disappoint you, but the chick is literally the most boring person on the planet.  Aside from her first day, she's done absolutely nothing scandalous.  Not one prank or incident."

After an annoyed sigh, Gary suddenly got up and started leaving, photos in hand.

"Hey! Wait!" Constantinos called out, starting to stand up, "Where the hell do you think you're going?  Where's my money?"

Gary stopped, turned around and sneered.  "I'm not giving you any money.  You haven't earned it."

"WHAT?  You promised me fifty bucks if I did this stupid favor!  You owe me!"

"No.  You didn't do your job.  I don't owe you anything."

"Give me my money," Constantinos said, eyes narrowed, "or I'll tell your parole officer I've been catching you near the campus."

Gary sighed, his patience quickly shortening.  "Fine.  Fine.  Alright.  Here you go, you stupid ass-wipe," and he fished the money from his jacket pocket and flung it onto the table in front of Constantinos, which landed right in his chilly fries.

"Hey!" Constantinos cried as he tried to quickly pick the money out and wipe off the hot chilly.  He looked up at Gary who was now leaving.  "Where are you going now?"

"To think," Gary said before he walked out of the restaurant, "I've got some planning to do."

* * * *

Melissa and Zoe came into their dorm room that night, just before curfew, laughing and recalling the day's outing with Jimmy and Petey.  The two went to their separate beds, giggling as they changed into their pajamas and got ready for sleep.  Melissa was in the middle of taking her shoes off when the cell phone on her nearby desk rang.

Picking up the phone with curiosity and pressing the button to accept the call, she held it to her ear.  It was unusual for her mother to be calling at this hour.  "Hello?"

"Melissa?  Oh, thank God, I've been trying to get through the other end of this line all day."

Melissa hesitated and her brows went up.  "Dad?"

"Yes, sweetie, it's me.  How are you?  Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm...fine."  She was confused by the concern in her father's voice.  "Is everything okay?  What's going on?"

There was a sigh on the other end.  "Nothing, honey.  Everything is okay now.  Where are you right now?"

Melissa blinked.  "I'm...in my dorm room at Bullworth.  I was about to go to bed."  She paused.  "Does Mom know you're calling?"

"No.  I'm at my apartment right now.  I met with your mother earlier today, and I found a piece of paper with your name and number on it in her purse when she wasn't around.  I'd been trying to call it since I got back, hoping it would be you."

She blinked.  "You didn't know about this number?"

There was another sigh, this time it sounded more angry.  "No.  I knew you were at some school out of state, but your mother wouldn't tell me where or how to reach you."

Her jaw dropped.  "You mean Mom didn't even tell you where I went?"

"No, she didn't.  She wants to keep you away while the divorce is still being settled."

"Why?!"

There was a small pause on the other line.  "She's keeping you away from me."

Melissa was speechless.  She knew her enrollment at Bullworth was her mother's way of "protecting" her in some way during the divorce settlement, though how and exactly from what was never quite clear.  Now she knew.  This wasn't about keeping her away for the custody agreement, this was about punishment.  Her mother was using her to hurt her father.  And apparently any consideration about her daughter during all this was not even thought of.  Even though she was miles away from home, she still had to be in the center of it all.  It made her want to cry, hurl, and punch a wall all at once.

Before all the thoughts and emotions that flooded her mind made her scream, her father broke the silence.  "I'm going to come over to see you.  Where are you?"

"I-I'm at Bullworth Academy, in Bullworth, New Hampshire," she said shaking her head and snapping back to reality.  She dictated the exact address of the school to him.

"Okay sweetie, thank you.  I'll fly over as soon as I can.  Expect me in a few days.  I love you."

"Okay...I love you too."

"Goodbye sweetheart."

"Bye..."

There was a click at the other end, and Melissa robotically closed the cell phone and placed it back onto her desk.  She sat there on her bed for a moment and didn't move.

Zoe, who was now in her pajamas, sat up in her bed with her covers draped over her long, crossed legs.  She watched from across the room with concerned apprehension, looking from her friend and the phone on her desk.  "What's going on?"

"That was my dad," Melissa said numbly, staring at the floor, "He's coming to visit me."