Chapter Text
Alexander stared down at his clenched fists. His knuckles were starting to scab over, but they still stung. His lip was bleeding, one of his eyes was slightly swollen, and he was sure that he was bruised all over.
Stupid Jefferson.
He risked a glance around the office. The secretary was pointedly ignoring him, working on some random paperwork. The carpet, chairs, walls, and decorations were pristine. Sunlight streamed through the windows, which gave a view of the courtyard in the middle of the buildings. Alexander had been there a couple of times- it was nice, for New York City.
The only indication of what had happened in the past hour was Washington's closed door. Alexander had walked by the office a couple times on his way to class, and the principal's door was never closed.
But now it was.
He and Jefferson were 'talking', as they had been for the past twenty minutes. Alexander had no idea what on earth was taking so long. He just wanted them to be done so he could have his turn and get it over with.
He returned his glare to his hands. They were shaking. Why were they shaking? He forced them still. This was so unfair. It wasn't like it was his fault.
...Okay, maybe it had been a little bit his fault.
But to be fair, Jefferson started it! He'd been taunting Alexander, like usual, and he'd ben trying to ignore it. Most of the comments honestly flew over his head by now, and he'd been about to keep walking.
But then Jefferson had insulted his mother. And Alexander had just... lost it.
Nobody insulted his mother.
There was a click, and Alexander's head snapped up. Jefferson walked out first, looking effectively cowed. Alexander felt a twinge of satisfaction at the fact that the other boy refused to make eye contact with him as he left the office.
Any trace of that satisfaction, however, immediately flew away, never to be seen again, when Alexander turned his head and instantly locked eyes with Washington.
Holy shit was he in trouble.
Willing himself to stop shaking, he stood and walked into Washington's office. To Alexander, the simple click of the door closing behind the principal was like the sound of a guillotine blade dropping.
"Sit," Washington said, his voice carefully neutral- Alexander couldn't make out what exactly the emotion he detected was. Anger? Sadness? Disappointment?
He sat, doing his best not to fidget as Washington sat down as well and just... looked at him.
Why did Alexander feel so weirdly ashamed of his actions?
"You wanna tell me what happened out there, son?" Washington asked, folding his hands on the desk.
"Don't call me son," Alexander burst out- his face immediately heated up, and suddenly the carpet pattern was the most interesting thing he'd seen all day. "Anyway," he continued, "didn't Jefferson already tell you?"
"Yes," Washington conceded. "However, I have learned that it is best to hear the perspectives of all who were involved."
Alexander swallowed. "Fine," he muttered. "I was just walking to my next class when Jefferson" he spat the name like the venom it was "started calling out insults, shit like that. I was ignoring him, 'cause he does this all the time, but then-" Alexander took a deep breath; he got mad just thinking about it. "Then he insulted my mother. Called her a- a whore. Said she was probably ugly if she birthed me. And I wasn't going to let that slide. So- so-"
"So you punched him," Washington finished. "And the fight started."
Alexander nodded, still refusing to meet Washington's gaze. "My scholarship's gonna get revoked, isn't it?"
"No." Alexander's head snapped up.
"Wait, what?"
Washington gave him the barest hint of smile, before it disappeared. "I said, no. Your scholarship will not be revoked. First of all, this was a first time offense. Second of all, though you started the actual fight, it is clear that Thomas instigated it. He admitted it himself. So no, your scholarship will not be revoked.
"However, fighting is still prohibited at Yorktown, and I cannot entirely let it slide."
Alexander nodded to show he understood. "What will my punishment be?" he asked, hating how hoarse his voice sounded.
"Well, both you and Thomas will receive a month of detention. You will write letters of apology to each other as well."
Alexander made a face, but it immediately dropped when Washington raised his eyebrow, unimpressed.
"Furthermore, both of you will be seeing our school's therapist weekly."
At this, Alexander leapt to his feet. "What?! No! I don't want to talk to- to some random shrink! I'd rather have my scholarship revoked!" he protested. What if the therapist found out he was a homeless orphan? What if they told Washington?
"Alexander, this is not optional. It is part of your punishment. Sit down, please."
Alexander grumbled but sat.
"This is only until the detentions are over, unless you wish to continue," Washington explained. "Both of you clearly would benefit greatly from having an outside party to talk you. And you will not be required to talk about anything you do not wish to." A pause. "If you refuse, I may have to call your parents."
At that, Alexander went rigid. "Fine!" he bit out. "Fine, I'll talk to your stupid therapist."
"Thank you," Washington said, smiling at him. Why did he feel proud to have that smile directed at him? "That is all, Alexander. You are dismissed."
Alexander nodded and stood again, starting out the door.
"And Alexander?"
He turned.
Washington was still smiling. "Please know that this has not changed my perception of you. You are still an excellent student and dancer. Just please- next time, try not to use your fists."
"Yes, sir," Alexander said, and then he left.
For some reason, he felt strangely warm.