I hate the principal, he must think I'm crazy

“Tarra, we need to talk,” Mr. Fretchen told me. He sat behind his old desk, and looked down at its wooden surface. “Your behavior has been…unnacceptable,” he sighed, “I think it would be best if we got you some counseling.”

“What?” I exclaimed, “I don’t need counseling!”

He looked at me disaprovingly.

“Mr. Fretcher,” I said with a forced smile, I realized that I had to stay calm, “I understand that I did not behave well today. Some things happened between my friends and I. I was a very bad day for me. But, I promise that I will try my best to be better, and I can assure you that it…,” I tried to think of the right words, ” not necessary for me to see a counselor.”

He pondered for a moment. “Well, I’m going to have to talk to your parents. Your parents and I can come to a decision of what should be done.”

“I’ve told you a thousand times. I don’t have a father!” I thought to myself, but said nothing.

“You may leave now,” he said.

I stood and promptly left the principal’s office.

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