The Principal of the Matter

Following Mr. Short to his office, I was seething inside. I didn’t feel like I had done anything wrong, and the fact that this man, whom I’d gone out of my way to help more than once, had the audacity to be mad at me over stopping a fight in the parking lot using my magic, on my own pack mates, nonetheless, made me so angry, I knew this might be the final straw that sent me on a rampage only Fionna Flamingo could rival.

Mr. Short went straight into his office, waited for me to walk in, and then practically slammed the door before he walked around his desk, sat down, folded his hands, and took a deep breath. “Miss Nightingale, we have a problem.”

“Listen, Mr. Short,” I began, trying to choose my words carefully so as not to sound disrespectful. He was my principal, after all, but I was to the point where I was about to not be