Later that day Zach was called into the principals’ office. He didn’t have to rack his brain too hard to guess what it was about.
Mrs. Samuels sat behind a study mahogany desk that was sleekly polished but littered with half a dozen student files, a half-eaten sandwich and books.
“Sorry,” she said after swallowing the last mouthful of her lunch. “Please take a seat.”
Zach did so, smiling politely.
“So, there was an altercation outside the front gates. I saw the entire thing through that window,” Mrs. Samuels pointed to the window on her left. It did indeed provide a bird’s eye view of the front gate. The office was perfectly placed to give a good view of most of the school, apart from the bike shed.
‘No wonder they all smoke there,’ Zach thought. ‘Kids aren’t stupid.’
