Called to the
principal's office for fighting in the girls' locker room. Although
slightly different it still brought forth memories. Well, this time
there were no injuries, but at the other hand he had smashed a door.
In the girls' locker room.
It was his
first time on the main building's fourth floor.
Should I
give him a copy of my recordings and photos?
Expulsion,
well that might be too harsh, but some kind of repercussions lay in
wait for him. That much was a given.
But from
what I heard the teachers didn't give a damn about what she had to go
through.
Ulf walked
through the door, crossed the distance to the desk, and pretended to
stand waiting for what was to come.
The principal
was an older man with short, salt and pepper hair and expensive
glasses. He wore an impeccable suit that made him look more like a
successful businessman than someone ending his career chained to a
medium-sized high school.
A power
monger of the Old school. Door, mat, big desk and a single chair with
him in it. If I had been fifteen I'd shit myself by now. But I need
to put a stop to the bullying. OK, let's play!
“Good
afternoon, sir,” Ulf said in English.
“Good day to
you as well,” the principal answered in Swedish.
What the
fuck?
“It has come
to my attention,” the principal opened the real topic in English,
“that you have been involved in some unseemly activities, my
laddie,” he continued in an English Ulf would be hard pressed to
match.
It was time
for a restart.
“Sensei, I'm
sorry if...” Ulf started in Japanese.
“Cut the
crap kiddo. I'm old enough to have changed your diaper.” Still
English.
Haven't I
heard variants of that spiel before?
“Cause I
swiped the dirty behinds of my siblings as a high schooler.”
Damn, the
geezer doesn't keep to my script.
“So, you're
forty, forty-five, fifty?”
“Eh,
fifteen,” Ulf tried, but he had long since lost this one.
“Yeah, and I
sprout wings and do Tokyo by night.”
“OK, what
now?” Ulf said, defeated and deflated.
“You accept
you're the kid you are. I'm older than you and I have more experience
with your, hmm, rare dilemma than you.”
He must have
seen Ulf's face radiate sudden hope.
“Sorry kid,
I'm the 65 I look. But I've met your kind before.”
My kind!
Maybe.
“You'll need
contacts there as well, so get that club of yours up and running.
I'll find a sponsor. The student council will approve or they'll wish
they were never born.”
What's
going on?
“Now, as for
the mayhem in the locker rooms. You will be punished.”
Well, that was
a given.
“We don't
condone bullying. We also don't condone vandalism. Your parents will
pay for the damage.”
Not Amaya.
No! “How much?”
“One hundred
thousand yen.”
Ulf fished up
his wallet and pulled out eleven bills.
“That will
suffice,” the principal said as if every normal high school student
carried around a week's salary in cash.
Corrupt
bastard. He didn't even blink at the bribe.
“Have to
accommodate your prejudices. Public servants in Japan are corrupt and
all that.”
Whoa!
Didn't see that one coming!
“I'm
retiring within a year. Need a little bit of dirt on me or some very
bad people will do a thorough search, and we wouldn't want that,
would we? Your petty bribe fits the bill, pardon the pun,” the
principal said and pocketed ten thousand yen.
I'm way out
of my league here.
“Now, two
things, or I make your next three years anything but the best three
years of your life.”
He's
Japanese after all. What bloody idiots remember high school as the
pinnacle of their lives? Oh, yanks of course, but they don't count.
“One. The
stranger parts of this conversation never happened.”
Ulf wouldn't
have called the one-sided affair a 'conversation', but apart from
that, item number one made perfect sense.
“Two. Have
you seen this student before?”
Ulf looked at
the picture of a second year student. “Sorry, can't say I have,
sir.”
The principal
looked him directly in his eyes. Very slowly, and very softly he
said: “Then that makes two of us.”
Ulf thought of
what the principal had just said. Hmm, oh? Oh!
“My
colleague at your old middle school has, though. I want this problem
gone. Permanently.”
“What?”
“It's all
connected. Trust me,” the principal said and slid a memory stick
across the table. “You'll find the photos and videos instructive,
enlightening and profitable.”
I'm way,
way, way out of my league here. He's playing me like the kid I look
like. Shit, I'm scared! “What do you want me to do?”
“No physical
accidents. We can't have him hospitalized four times, if you get my
drift. With your business background I'm certain you'll find a more,
ah, elegant solution.”
I'm not
leaving without something. At least one small victory.
“Why my old middle school?” He had one bullet to fire, and it had
just left the barrel.
“I like how
you connect the dots.” It was the first time the principal had
looked at him with something that resembled approval. “Escalator
school.”
“I know. I
helped four of their high school students to a prolonged vacation.”
Just thinking about that memory made bile rise in him. “I'd
understand if they went after me, but Christina? She didn't even go
to that school.”
“You're so
full of yourself. They're not going after you, or her for that
matter. They're going after us.”
That didn't
make any sense at all. He needed to think like a CEO and not like a
school kid. Business. Money. Oh, crap! “Your welcome
speech.”
“I take it
your company in the other world was fairly successful?”
Ulf nodded.
“That really was a special greeting to us.” He needed to verify
his suspicion. “Usually, how many students from my middle school
begin as freshmen here?”
“Zero.”
And Ulf had
known that answer before it came. Maybe not zero, but at least less
than a handful. “And...”
“27, out of
40 applying.”
He made a
quick calculation. “Fifteen percent of their ninth graders, top
performers to boot. Damn, that'll sting in their corporate wallet.”
“And all
because they failed to convince everyone that raping juniors is a
happy pastime that should be shushed up lest it reflects badly on the
school.”
“I didn't
know.”
“No, you
were expelled. After that they tried to buy the Wakayamas off.”
Ulf thought of
the faces he remembered from his old school. 27, and another dozen
tried to get out. “That must have backfired badly. Who are
the Wakayamas?”
“Old money.
Not a whole lot of it, but it's a respectable family.”
“If you
excuse me, but how do you know?”
“Children of
old friends. I owe them.”
He knew
their grandparents. I guess that counts as old friends. Ulf
looked at the principal with a lot more respect. “I'll see what I
can do, sir”
“You can't
tell anyone, you know.”
“I know.”
On impulse Ulf bowed deeply, Japanese style. It was, he felt, the
right thing to do.
On his way out
he met a third year. One of the girls from the locker room.
Have fun.
He'll eat you alive. Suits you.
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