Page 74 of Pride High 3: Yellow

“No! Well…” There had been plenty of witnesses, so he decided to stay close to the truth. “Graham threw something at me. So I threw something at him. That’s when he punched me.”

She studied him a moment before looking down at his article. “Who gave you permission to distribute this?”

“I didn’t realize I needed permission.”

“Were you not told previously that this topic is off limits?”

Before he could answer, someone knocked.

“Come in,” Preckwinkle said.

Anthony turned, not hiding his puzzlement when he saw Mr. Finnegan standing there.

“Sit down,” Preckwinkle said, as if she was addressing a student.

Mr. Finnegan quietly complied. He nodded at Anthony in greeting, but his face remained drawn.

“I’m sure you recognize this,” Preckwinkle said, sliding Anthony’s article across her desk.

“Of course,” Mr. Finnegan replied after a cursory glance.

“Did you not explain to Anthony that such topics are inappropriate for an educational environment?”

“He did,” Anthony answered for him.

“I wasn’t addressing you,” Preckwinkle said coldly before fixing an icy stare on Mr. Finnegan. “Well?”

“I informed him of the reason that his article wasn’t accepted for the school newspaper,” Mr. Finnegan replied. “I wasn’t aware that your expectations went beyond that.”

Principal Preckwinkle scoffed at this. “You couldn’t extrapolate that the subject wasn’t welcome in this school underanycircumstances?”

Mr. Finnegan’s tone remained professional. “The school paper has a policy against publishing violent content, even though historical wars are part of the curriculum here, so no, I didn’t leap to that conclusion.”

“Mm-hm. And did you give Anthony permission to publish this article on his own?”

“He didn’t,” Anthony interjected.

Preckwinkle’s eyes became slits. “I wasn’t asking you.”

“Fine,” Anthony shot back, “but we’re both capable of answering. He never gave me permission.”

Mr. Finnegan cleared his throat. “I suggested that he might pursue publication through the official channels of other periodicals.”

“Which sounds like the germ of an idea,” Principal Preckwinkle said after tsking her tongue.

“Not really,” Anthony interjected. “I didn’t want my article to get published in theKansas City Star. I wanted it to be published here, where it will actually matter, because it’s people like Graham who keep calling me names and painting slurs on my locker. How come he isn’t in trouble for that?”

Preckwinkle frowned at him. “I don’t remember you coming to me with that issue. Or granting you the right to take matters into your own hands.”

“What did I do wrong though?” he pressed. “Is there a rule against sharing what you write with other students? Because if so, that’s seriously messed up.”

“This is an inappropriate subject matter!” Preckwinkle said, repeatedly jabbing his article like she was trying to murder ants.

“It’s who I am!” he shot back. “MaybeI’mnot appropriate for this school!”

“Anthony,” Mr. Finnegan said warningly.

“That’s enough out of both of you,” Principal Preckwinkle said in exasperation. “Return to your class, Mr. Finnegan. We’ll talk later, but please know that I amverydisappointed in you.”