Apollo entered the cafeteria and looked for a table that wasn’t occupied by students. If it were up to him, he would’ve eaten his lunch inside the school library. That way, he could enjoy reading his Black Shadow comic book without hearing about how much of a “nerd” he was for reading them. Unfortunately, food or drinks weren’t allowed inside the library, and if you were caught smuggling them in, it was an automatic three-day suspension. Apollo thought of intentionally breaking those rules on many occasions, but spending time at home with Marcella on her off days wasn’t a tolerable plan B.

All of the black students congregated at the northwest end of the cafeteria, taking up several of the tables for themselves. Although it would’ve been nice to sit down and break bread with his own people, Apollo remembered that one time back in ninth grade, Jermaine believed he wasn’t a “real nigga” to eat lunch with them.

“Where’d this waste yute come from?” Jermaine had said, screwing up his face. There was something cold and aggressive found in his voice. Every conversation around the table halted as Apollo rested his tray of poutine. They all looked at him as if he was lost.

“Nobody wants you around here, fam. Kick rocks.” Jermaine nudged his head toward the double doors behind him.

“What, I can’t sit here?” Apollo had asked, uncertain of what the big deal was.

“Ayo, whose mans is this?” Jermaine looked around the table, pointing at Apollo with his thumb.

“I think that’s Odion’s brother,” another boy from the table had said, mean-mugging Apollo like he was ready to fight him.

“Hang on a sec,” a girl at the table had said, “aren’t you the kid who shit himself in the hallway a couple months back?” The entire table broke out into hearty laughter as Apollo wriggled his mouth from the embarrassment. It wasn’t something he could shake off because it did happen. The meatloaf Marcella cooked the night before wreaked havoc on Apollo’s stomach, and when an event like shitting yourself at school happens, word quickly spreads around like cancer. You then become the laughing stock at school and a meme on social media.

“Take your Oreo cookie lookin’ ass on out of here before you shit yourself again.” Jermain chuckled. “Real niggas don't shit themselves at school.”

“Quit calling me a ‘nigga.’ Do I look like a slave to you?"

Jermaine stood to his feet, and Apollo tilted his head back to look into his eyes. “Nize it, nigga. Take your shitty lookin’ ass on out of here before I smack a few sparks out your face.” He balled his hands into fists, and a rush of excitement swelled around the table, the atmosphere quickly spreading into a net of hostility. Jermaine swiped his arm across the table, spilling Apollo’s lunch of fries, gravy, and cheese curds all over the floor. A roar of praise and applause erupted around them as Apollo fought with himself not to lash out and do something that’d land him in some serious hot water.

Apollo shook off the memory. That was all in the past. Mama always used to say, “There’s no point in crying over spilt milk. What’s done is done. Time to move on.” She was right.

Apollo moved his eyes a few tables down to where all the straight-A students ate lunch. Intellectually, he knew he wasn’t on their level, and even if he tried starting a conversation with them, they’d probably look at him as if he were some sort of alien waiting to steal their lunches. I’ll spare myself the embarrassment.

His attention shifted to a group of females in the center row doing what appeared to be a new coordinated dance routine in front of one of their smartphones. That’s being uploaded to TikTok for sure. Apollo cringed. He found an empty table at the far-end corner of the cafeteria and shrugged off his backpack, reaching for the apple butter sandwiches he made this morning.

After devouring both sandwiches and a few slices of his Pink Lady apple, he pulled out his Black Shadow comic book. Nothing was better than getting lost in the world of Demetrius Miller and understanding his deep sense of justice; the process he took to instill fear and hopelessness in bad guys whenever he became the Black Shadow, and how his morals shaped him as a superhero.

Unfortunately, society viewed him as a reckless vigilante who went above and beyond the law, taking matters into his own hands. However, what many people failed to realize was Demetrius Miller never harmed the innocent. He had a strong moral compass where he only killed criminals and supervillains, but due to his radical beliefs, he was vilified by the media, causing the public to fear and hate him. Despite that hate, he still went out and did what he believed was best for his city and the world. Only if our world had a Demetrius Miller. There’d be no crime.

A few mumblings and giggles came from the table across from him on his right-hand side. Apollo looked up casually just as he turned a page and saw Sandra, pointing and whispering something most likely foul and untrue to her friends. He narrowed his eyes a little.

For a girl who could easily pass for a dwarf, she always had something stupid to say. She even went as far as creating an Instagram post wishing he’d die of cancer just so she could throw a party on top of his grave. According to Odion, her post got flagged and removed from the platform.

“Shitty-brief!” Sandra said, placing strands of her flaming red hair behind her ear.

Apollo bit on his tongue, trying his hardest not to pay them any mind. A short moment later, a long strip of a french fry hit the table, sliding over to where he had his comic book. “Quit doing that,” Apollo said, picking up his comic. “Why you throwing food at me? I didn’t do anything to you.”

“Why you throwing food at me?” She made a face that implied he was retarded. “Shut the fuck up,” she said. “Why don’t you put down that dumbass comic book and go wash your ass?” Sandra and her friends giggled.

Apollo stood up and grabbed his backpack, shoving his comic book inside. He didn’t need to put up with this.

“Uh-oh! I think Shitty-brief’s going to shit himself again,” Sandra said, laughing. “Sure you don’t want any diapers?” All of her friends joined in on the laughter.

Apollo stared at her, eyes oozing venom, curling both his hands into fists. If she weren’t a girl, he would’ve placed a nice, fat ring around her eye.

“What, you wanna hit me?” She pointed and laughed in his face. “Go on then, I dare you,” she said. “How does it feel being a literal piece of shit nobody likes?” She giggled again. “Even your own brother doesn’t like you! Do you know how many times he’s told me in class he wished you were dead? Like, how does that make you feel?” Sandra laughed harder this time, holding her stomach. Apollo’s nose steamed with irritation, heart clawing at his chest. “Do us both a favor and kill yourself. The world would be a much better place without you.” She worked her mouth for a moment and spat hard at his feet. “That’s what everyone at school thinks of you.” She blew him a kiss and turned her attention back toward her friends.

Apollo stared at her saliva, unable to understand how someone could carry so much hate in their heart they’d feel the need to spit at them. A large part of him wanted to grab her by the throat and shove her face to the ground, where she spat. It’d be hard to say she didn’t deserve it given her vile misbehavior, but that would’ve resulted in expulsion, and assaulting girls weren’t his thing.

“Hey Cassandra,” Apollo called her by her full name, knowing full well she hated that, “the only reason why you hate me is because I asked Isaiah if the rumors about your stank pussy were true. But thanks for letting me know you’re a spitter and not a swallower. I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.” Apollo smiled and blew her a kiss back.

Sandra’s expression quickly turned murderous as she lunged at him with a fork in her hand, yelling obscenities the entire cafeteria could hear. Apollo grabbed her wrists and watched her face strain with effort as he spun her around off-balance, shoving her as light as he could to separate and gather space. Sandra’s head snapped back and smacked against the wall with a thud that didn’t sound healthy.

“Oh, SHIT!” a student yelled in the background. It sounded like someone from the black section of the cafeteria with how animated their voice was.

Sandra slid to her knees, eyes sealed closed, her face moist with tears. With the way her body tremored along the floor, it was at that moment Apollo knew he fucked up. He briefly glanced at his hands, surprised by his strength. He hoped that wasn’t blood on her palms as she held the back of her head, bawling. All of Sandra's friends rushed to her aid, cutting venomous looks at Apollo.

“You’re such a fucking asshole,” one of them said, pulling out a napkin from her back pocket.

Apollo reluctantly looked around the cafeteria. Various expressions stared at him: shock, disappointment, anger, disgust. On Mama’s grave, he swore he wasn’t trying to hurt her even though he’d be lying if he said she didn’t deserve it. He had no idea he pushed her that hard.

“What happened over here?” Mrs. Cunningham asked, arriving at the scene. “Are you all right?” She kneeled, tending to Sandra’s aid.

“This asshole pushed her against the wall,” napkin girl said.

“Tamara, watch your language.” Mrs. Cunningham took a look at the crowd that formed around them. “Which one?”

“This idiot.” Tamara pointed to him.

Apollo closed his eyes and pressed his lips together. I’m definitely getting suspended for this.

Mrs. Cunningham closed her brows together, her pale blue eyes piercing a nickel-sized hole through his forehead. “And why am I not surprised,” she said, standing to her feet. “First, you were late for my class, and now this.” She made a disapproving sound with her mouth and shook her head. “Gather your belongings and head straight to the office. I’ll see to it the principal is notified of this incident.”

“Look, I was trying to—”

“The office. Now.” She pointed in the direction. Apollo fixed his backpack over his shoulders, kissing his teeth. “And lose the attitude.” He heard her say before exiting the cafeteria.

Apollo darted his eyes away from Raquel and Soraya as he passed them by their lockers. He could only imagine the amount of shit they were going to talk once they caught wind of what happened in the cafeteria—especially since they, too, were best friends with Cassandra and just as chatty. If not more. Apollo could already see the hashtag womanbeater along with his name trending online after today’s incident.

He sighed. Just my luck.

Apollo stumbled his way into the office and took a seat in front of the secretary’s desk, placing his backpack on the vacant chair next to him. He rested against the wall and folded his hands over his head, awaiting his punishment. He shouldn’t have even been here right now. All of this could’ve been avoided had Cassandra kept her stupid mouth shut. Perhaps where he went wrong was not heading to the library after finishing his sandwiches and apple slices.

It seemed as if anytime he tried defending himself, consequences needed to be paid. Apollo furrowed his brows. Simply thinking about the situation flared his nostrils, but instead of causing a stink, cursing, and tossing things around, he remained quiet. The milk had already been spilled.

A few minutes later, Mrs. Cunningham opened the door, ordering him to follow her.

“Back again?” the secretary asked. Her wireless headset was fixed around her head as her fingers pushed down on the keyboard.

“Yeah,” Mrs. Cunningham said, contempt heard in her voice. How many times did she practice that tone in the mirror? It sounded awfully rehearsed. “Some things just never change.”

Like the dirty panties you wear to school every day, you cantankerous prick. Apollo exchanged glances with the secretary, picking up a look of condescension on her behalf. Mrs. Cunningham stood in front of Mr. Walters’ private office and knocked softly, his voice booming through the closed door.

“Come in!” he said, returning to his previous rumblings. Mrs. Cunningham closed the door silently after they entered, Apollo taking a seat on one of the chairs in front of his desk. Mr. Walters pierced a displeasing look at him, narrowing his eyes. Was he supposed to ask for permission before sitting down?

Apollo shifted his attention toward the window behind him and watched the sun ironically cast a bright shine inside for what was to be a dark situation. He caught himself smiling because it was as if the universe was trolling him at this point.

“I understand that, Charles, but the situation must be taken care of immediately. You guys had plenty of time to discuss the objectives and plan accordingly. I will not tolerate any delays,” Mr. Walters said, swaying casually in his chair, the light on his earpiece flashing blue.

By the tone of his voice, Apollo could tell an aura of superiority exuded him as his chestnut eyes glimmered across the room. Even with the way he sat on his leather chair, he probably felt like a king on his throne: back straight, chin up in the air, arms relaxed.

Mr. Walters looked at Mrs. Cunningham and rolled his eyes, pointing to his earpiece. “Listen, I have a meeting to attend. Just make sure those files are on my desk by tomorrow morning.” He removed the earpiece from his ears and shoved it on the table. “Incompetent fool,” he said, staring at it distastefully.

“The fun just never ends,” Mrs. Cunningham said, brushing her hair back. It wouldn’t have come as a surprise if the two were having an affair with how she smoothed her blouse. Unfaithful wretch.

“It comes with the territory,” Mr. Walters replied, placing some folders into his drawer. “What can I do for you this morning?”

“I've brought in a guest.” She gestured toward Apollo.

“Sit up, young man,” Mr. Walters demanded as Apollo reluctantly readjusted in his seat. “And what's the situation with this gentleman?”

Apollo felt Mrs. Cunningham’s eyes on him. “Well?” she said. “Would you like to go first, or shall I begin?”

Mr. Walters shot another fierce look at Apollo. “Based on your reaction, it seems there’s been a myriad of problems with this young man.”

Mrs. Cunningham nodded her head. “Apparently, he shoved a girl against the wall inside the cafeteria.”

“Oh!” Mr. Walters said as he sat back in his chair. “We've got a hostile one on our hands. What else?”

“I think it's best if he explains why he's here,” Mrs. Cunningham said.

“Young man, what is your name?” Mr. Walters stood up and adjusted the blinds to his office. Now the room was dark, which, to be honest, was a lot more fitting for the situation at hand.

“Apollo,” he mumbled, looking down at the floor.

“I can’t hear you.” He returned to his throne.

“Apollo,” he repeated, still looking at the floor.

“My eyes are up here.” Mr. Walters pointed to the glaciers forming in them. “What are you doing in my office?”

Apollo shrugged, unwilling to muster up an explanation that would’ve sounded believable. In times like these, it’s best to take your L and move on.

“You have a voice. Use it!” Mr. Walters curled his lip.

“I don't know,” Apollo said.

Mrs. Cunningham sighed. “You’re lying. Explain to him what happened inside the cafeteria.”

“Look bro, if you’re going to suspend me, just hurry up and do it so I can go about my business.” Apollo dropped his head back toward the floor.

“I find your attitude quite appalling.” Mr. Walters wrinkled his eyes.

“I find your breath quite appalling,” Apollo said.

“Hmpf!” Mr. Walters’ face turned pink, the veins in his forehead springing to life.

“This is what I have to put up with every time he’s in my classroom,” Mrs. Cunningham said.

An exaggeration. There must’ve been some sort of rulebook that stated if there were students teachers despised, they must exaggerate any and all incidents that occur between teacher and the student being disciplined.

“Start from the beginning and explain to me what happened between you and that other student.” Mr. Walters leaned forward and folded his hands together.

“I wanted to read my comic book. She wouldn’t let me read my comic book. We exchanged some words, and then she tried to attack me. I defended myself. The end.”

Silence fell over the room as Mr. Walters looked at him, expecting him to say more. “You’re bit of a smartass, aren’t you?”

“It’s a lot better than being a dumbass.” Apollo shrugged.

Mr. Walters slowly shifted his eyes toward Mrs. Cunningham, who looked clueless while sitting in her chair. What was she even doing here in the first place?

“It seems to me you have a problem controlling your temper,” Mr. Walters said. “Are you angry? Is that your problem?” He had the fakest look of concern in his eyes Apollo had ever seen.

“What, so now you’re trying to psychologize me?”

“You shoved a girl half your size against the wall, causing the back of her head to bleed,” Mrs. Cunningham chimed in. “That’s what happened. If you’re going to explain something, the least you can do is tell the full story.”

“How would you know? You weren’t even there when it happened.” Apollo looked at her side-eyed.

“There were plenty of witnesses who saw you do it. Don’t get smart with me!” Mrs. Cunningham twisted her lip into an angry frown. “Head trauma is a very serious issue. For you to sit there as if you haven’t got a care in the world says a lot about the type of person you are.”

Apollo nearly gagged at the comment. If only you knew the things she said before I shoved her, perhaps you’d be singing a different tune. “You’re right,” he said, pushing his spectacles back up to his eyes. “I apologize for what I did. It won’t happen again.”

Mr. Walters shot a look at him as if he were trying to figure out his thoughts. “That’s all you’ve got to say?”

Apollo looked at him and shrugged. “What else you want me to say?”

“You’re awfully short on compassion, aren’t you?” Mrs. Cunningham cut in just as Mr. Walters was about to open his mouth. “You're something else, you know that?”

“Just hurry up and write me my suspension papers so I can get out of here.” Apollo sat up on his chair, bouncing his feet on the floor. “I’ve got better things to do with my time than to listen to you two bozos talk about how heartless I am.”

“Aye! Watch the name calling and take the bass out of your voice,” Mr. Walters warned, eyes wrinkling. “I don’t think you realize who you’re speaking to.”

“No, obviously I don't, so please enlighten me,” Apollo replied, thick with sarcasm.

“Apollo!” Mrs. Cunningham called. “Watch your manners in front of the principal!”

Mr. Walters leaned forward. “You listen here, for I will say this only once. In this world, you’d better learn how to respect your superiors, or one day you’ll end up being extremely sorry. Do you understand?”

“My superiors?” Apollo raised his eyebrows. “And who might that be, you?”

Mr. Walters’ eyes twitched. What sort of message was he trying to convey if all of his students were deemed inferior? What kind of principal was that? You’d swear this man was running a dictatorship.

Mr. Walters looked to Mrs. Cunningham. “Call his guardian and notify them he is not to be seen on school property for ten days. I'll print out a copy of the form and give to you, and I'll document the original into his files.” That’s basically two weeks off school. Not bad. Perhaps I should be thanking Cassandra after all. Mr. Walters handed over the papers along with his pen and ordered him to sign on the bottom. “I’m suspending you from this institution for causing serious bodily harm toward another student, a failure to recognize your wrongdoing, and for that horrendous attitude of yours.” He stuck his head out and curled his lip. “And the next time I see you in my office, I'm going to expel you from attending Sauga Valley High School.”

Apollo shifted from one of his eyes to the next before reluctantly inking his name, sliding the document over to that unfaithful sleaze ball sitting next to him. Mr. Walters photocopied the document and handed it to Apollo before taking another poisonous glance in his direction. “One more thing,” he said, “because of your lack of concern for your peers, I hereby declare you no longer eligible to attend Sauga’s end of the year school dance.” Mr. Walters sat back in his chair and ordered him to leave.

About time. Never cared about that stupid dance anyway. Apollo couldn’t have gotten up faster, grabbing his backpack and heading for the exit outside. He held off on pulling out his MP3 player and headphones, watching Tyron, Bishop, and two more of Odion’s friends head in his direction from one of the portables. Here comes trouble. Apollo immediately zipped up his backpack and threw it over his shoulders.

“Hold up, hold up, hold up,” Tyron said to the camera in his hand. “In the comment section below, rate on a scale of one to ten how goofy this nigga looks right now.” He laughed and pointed the lens at Apollo. “This is what happens when your mama abandons you. Look at him y’all.” Tyron turned the camera back to himself. “Don’t do drugs, or else you’ll end up looking like him.” He pointed his finger to the lens as if he were teaching a valuable lesson. “Anyway, I’m ’bout to head inside, so I’ll see y’all in the next clip.” He shoved his hand into the camera lens before turning it off.

Apollo squeezed the straps of his backpack as a piercing rumble tugged at his stomach, similar to the one he had just before those two police cars tumbled and exploded on the street. It was baffling to see how someone with the body of an elephant and face of a donkey be so comfortable in front of a camera. “Tyron,” he called, “don’t be calling me no ‘nigga’ for your entertainment.” He looked him square in his beady brown eyes. “And the next time you mention anything about my Ma, I’ll kill you.”

Tyron looked him up and down, shoving his camera into Bishop’s hands. “Do sum then, nigga!” He shrugged off his backpack and tucked the gold chain he stole from Tracy underneath his shirt, shoving Apollo hard toward the ground. Apollo stuck his arm out to break his fall, fortunately landing on his backpack, softening the impact.

“C’mon, that’s enough,” Bishop said, using his long arms to pull Tyron back. “It ain’t that serious. Leave it alone.”

“Do sum,” Tyron said, trying to force his way past Bishop’s tall, wide frame. “You wanna kill me, eh! Do sum then! Do sum nigga!”

Apollo gritted his teeth at the sharp, stinging pain shooting to the sides of his temple. He grimaced as he slowly rose to his feet, head throbbing like he’d been whacked with a piece of lumber. If Tyron and his friends knew what was good for them, they’d better leave before something disastrous happened.

“Calm down, man, damn,” Bishop said, trying to force Tyron inside as he continued to act up.

“That’s what I thought, pussy!” Tyron flipped both middle fingers in Apollo’s direction as he was dragged inside. “Fuck you and your mama, bitch!”

Apollo stormed through the double doors. Just as he was about to tackle Tyron to the ground, Mr. Walters and Mrs. Cunningham turned the corner.

“Get out of here!” Mr. Walters shouted from the end of the hall. “Don’t make me have to call the police on you.” Apollo watched Tyron stick out his tongue and mumble some words he couldn’t hear, flipping him the finger again just before he escaped inside the cafeteria. “You’ve got three seconds,” Mr. Walters declared. “One, two, thr—”

Apollo turned around and headed back outside, teeth firmly locked together. Tyron should’ve been thankful Mr. Walters was there to save his ass, or else he would’ve ended up like those two police officers yesterday.

Dead.

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