Migration

I knew the migration would happen as soon as Mr. Walsh walked into the classroom.  My only hope was he had gotten the letter and had headed for the hills.  But either he didn’t get the letter or he didn’t care.  Only I knew what he did and what was coming for him.  I knew how he was forcing students to do on an everyday basis so he didn’t actually do his job.  So he could get away with everything he wanted.  The torture.  The threats.  The blackmail. 

And now I knew he was on to me.  While he lectured on the history of the Civil War, his eyes never left my face.  I knew I had to get out and fast.  Had to expose him.  Fast.  As soon as the bell rang, I threw my books into my backpack and ran to the rear exit.  What I wasn’t expecting was to find the Dean waiting just outside.  Before I could squeeze past, he grabbed my arm and inconspicuously dragged me toward his office.  I knew better than to yell or make a scene.  My ending would be much worse than my beginning.   

I knew better than to give up, knew better than to let go and let myself fall into the aggressive clutches of Mr. Walsh and his cronies.  But my life and my future depended on whether Tony would follow through or not.  Which all came down to whether he was drinking or not.  Only time would tell.