Sam didn't show up for the first class of the afternoon, and as it was about to end, Professor Sofía interrupted English class to announce, in front of everyone, that Tomás was to report to the staff room at the end of the day. Rage immediately surged from Tomás's gut like a tide threatening to drown him.
Sunny looked at him from her seat, with an expression that was a mix of worried and expectant. She could imagine what had happened, and the rest of the class quickly started murmuring and exchanging glances. Even Anaís looked at him fleetingly, though her expression was different: there was no reproach in her eyes, but something he couldn't decipher. Why did she have to announce it in front of everyone? Tomás clenched his fists under the desk. There was no need to ruin the little dignity he had left. Why not wait for a better opportunity? Was she doing it on purpose?
At the end of the day, he left the classroom with a mixture of frustration and exhaustion. He didn't say goodbye to Sunny, and when he walked past Anaís, she looked away, as if trying to avoid him. Perhaps it was for the best. Who would want to be near someone who seemed to attract trouble like a magnet?
When he arrived at the staff room, he found Sofía sitting at her desk. Other teachers glanced at him, their expressions a mix of disapproval and curiosity. It was as if they were witnessing a delinquent entering court. What's wrong with them? Haven't they ever seen someone beaten before? he thought bitterly.
"Sit there, Tomás, please. I suppose you know why I called you," Sofía said, without raising her voice too much, though her tone denoted authority.
Tomás sat in front of her with a tired gesture. "I have no idea. Could you explain it to me, please?"
Sofía let out a slight sigh before continuing. "Samuel came here at lunchtime with his face bruised and bleeding. He said you hit him out of nowhere, that you took something out on him. Could you explain what happened between you two? From what I understand, you were friends, or am I mistaken?"
Tomás brought a hand to his split lip and touched it carefully. "He hit me first," he said coldly, not bothering to soften his tone. "Here, right next to the other cut."
Sofía looked away, as if a slight feeling of guilt weighed on her shoulders, but she quickly disguised it. "Is that all you're going to say in your defense?"
Tomás rested his elbows on the table, tired of justifying himself. "I don't need to say anything else. I hit him because he deserved it. He hit me first, even though I warned him. It was self-defense."
"If that's the case, why did he end up in that state and you barely have a cut?" Sofía retorted, with a hint of disbelief.
Tomás offered a bitter, almost mocking smile. "I guess I hit him harder. Or maybe it's just the week of cuts. I just love getting my lip busted."
Sofía glared at him. "Don't mock me, Tomás. I am your professor."
"I already said what I had to say," he replied, his voice laden with irritation. "Sam is a coward, and also a traitor. If I see him again, I'll hit him again. So do what you have to do. I don't think you called me here to tell me how bad I am."
Sofía pressed her lips together, trying to maintain her composure. "You are suspended. The principal has already authorized it: a week of suspension. If your mother wants to know why, she can come tomorrow morning. I will attend to her no matter the time."
Tomás took the suspension slip she handed him and folded it without looking at it. "She won't come. Don't worry."
Sofía tried to soften her tone. "You shouldn't take out your frustrations on your classmates, much less on your friends."
Tomás looked up, his expression cold as steel. "What do you know about me? He hit me first. He was frustrated, tired of being a coward, and he took it out on me. I just hit him back."
"It's not necessary to use violence to resolve things, even if he hit you first," Sofía retorted, with a more conciliatory air.
"Sure, I think the same. But I'm tired of being attacked and not hitting back. He hit me first, and I'm the one getting suspended. I guess life is never fair. It seems I'll have to get used to it. Goodbye, Professor. Have a good week."
Sofía watched him stand up, her patience at its limit. "You could apologize to Samuel and we would leave it at that. Maybe just one or two days of suspension."
Tomás turned to look at her with an expression that froze the air between them. "I'm not interested in apologizing. He should apologize to me. Now everyone's going to go around talking nonsense. They'll have a week to enjoy it. He'll probably spread rumors too so Anaís ends up hating me. But I don't care about anything. I'm not going to apologize, because I haven't done anything wrong."
The silence in the staff room became heavy. The curious glances of the other teachers were like knives piercing Sofía's back.
"Your pride won't get you anywhere," she said, her tone attempting to be firm, though her voice trembled slightly.
Tomás looked her straight in the eyes, with a coldness that made her shiver. "I don't need your advice, Professor. But I'm tired of the hypocritical advice from adults who think they're perfect, of infamous classmates who claim to be my friends, and of the consequences always falling on me. If I'm suspended, I'm suspended with pride."
Sofía, feeling the rising tension, stood up, pointing an accusing finger at Tomás's chest. "Take back what you just said right now, or I'll suspend you for two weeks."
Tomás tilted his head slightly towards her, as if he couldn't help but mock her. "I won't. I haven't done anything wrong," he said, and then lowered his voice so only she could hear. "I'm just a stupid brat, isn't that what you said? Aren't you going to help me pretend now?"
Sofía felt the ground disappear beneath her feet. Her heart pounded, and she struggled to contain the rage burning within her. She swallowed with difficulty and, restraining herself, pointed to the door. "Get out."
Tomás bowed exaggeratedly. "Thank you, Professor. Have a good week. And thanks for this memory," he said, pointing to his injuries before leaving. "I'll await your apologies; pride is a bad counselor," he smiled sarcastically. Sofía stood there, watching his back, her face burning with rage, then noticed she was clenching her fists tightly.