"A tiny voice asked, �Is he the one? "
Seven minutes had passed. Archie Smith sat in the small red chair in the hall out front of the office. He tapped his foot lightly on the grounds. The door clicked open.
"Archie Smith?" A tall, lean woman called from the door. She looked down at him. "Are you Archie Smith?" Her lips pursed. He slowly nodded. The woman tapped her foot, and heavily sighed. "Well, step in! Mrs. Mantle is waiting for you!"
Archie took off his red baseball cap and followed the woman inside. The carpet was clean this time. It definitely didn�t smell as much. He glanced over by the trashcan. There was still a spot next to it. He was so close to the trashcan. Why hadn�t the secretary pushed it over to him? She saw the green, sickly tint on his face. That disgusted, yet scared look plastered on his icy blue eyes. She just sat there, an awkward grin on her face. She knew he was going to throw up. She didn�t think about the trash can. Or had she? They didn�t like him. Not many people did. Mrs. Mantle�s door opened, and Archie watching Bernie Stifflemayer step out.
"I swear!" He was whining back into the room. "Archie tripped on my leg! Why would I trip him on purpose?"
"I know, Bernie," she responded, the same look the secretary had when Archie was about to throw up appeared on the counselor�s face. "We hear it every time." She showed him out of the office, and turned to Archie. "Ah, Archie Smith. Time to hear your side of the story. Step into my office." Archie swallowed hard, and then followed her in.
"Should I�" Archie began. She waved approval as she sat at her desk. Archie silently shut the door behind him.
"Take a seat, Archie," Mrs. Mantle said, irritated. "Your visits are becoming weekly."
"I�m sorry," Archie said, quietly, staring at the floor.
"Oh, I know, I know. I just wish you would try to be friends with Bernie. Why must you egg him on?" Archie was speechless.
"I was reading a book, and saw him come over so I got up to avoid confrontation. He just ran over and tripped me!" Archie exploded, angrily.
"Why did you get up? Mrs. Mantle asked, smiling. Archie bit his cheeks to stop himself from exploding again. "Maybe," she continued, "If you hadn�t gotten up, he wouldn�t have felt so threatened, and would have left you be."
"I had to!" Archie burst out again, cheeks sore. "If I hadn�t he would have pummeled me into the ground!" She held up a hand, instantly silencing him.
"I think the problem is that you won�t accept Bernie. Next time stay, and say hi. Be his friend. He�ll, then, feel no need to trip you."
Archie licked his lips, angry. An old saying flashed through his mind. Something about being the right hand of the devil as opposed to being in his path. No, Archie thought. It�s not better to be by his side. Mrs. Mantle began to explain her theory on helping evil forces. Archie�s ears tuned out, and his eyes rolled toward the ceiling. Bored, bored, bored, he thought. Same thing every time. Muffled chidings from the teacher could be heard, but not understood. Archie pictured Bernie all flushed bright red, sprouting horns and a tail. He stifled a laugh.
"Now, this is no laughing matter, Archie," Mrs. Mantle said, raising her eyebrows. "Understand what I�m saying?" Archie glanced back, and nodded quickly. "Good. Now, your parents should be here to pick you up, soon. Get some rest, Archie. I expect you back here, in school, tomorrow." Archie nodded, solemnly. She sighed. "Go home, Archie."
Archie walked outside of the office, and plopped his baseball cap. He watched his father and mother walk out of the car. His father�s ear glued to his cell phone. His mother nagging him about something. Probably about how he could have possibly raised a boy as misbehaved as Archie. Archie sighed, grabbed his backpack, then walked out to meet them before they had a chance to run into Mrs. Mantle. What an adventure that would be. He began to get that sickly feeling again.
He stopped at the door. His mother�s voice floated in. He watched his father, seemingly impervious to his mother�s nagging. Archie�s stomach churned. He turned to dash for a bathroom, but his mother glanced up, and locked eyes with him.
"Archie Smith!" She shrieked, stopping dead in her tracks. His father fumbled on his cell phone. Archie held his stomach.
"Archie come here right now!" His father�s voice bellowed. He flipped his phone shut, and started toward him. Archie slowly walked toward his father. They met, and Mr. Smith instinctively grabbed him by the arms.
"How dare you start a fight!" His mother shouted. "You�re only eight, and you couldn�t possibly know, but one day you�re going too look back on your mischievous days and wish you could re-do them!" Archie was busy biting his cheeks hard. He couldn�t talk back to hi parents. He�d never win. His father mumbled something then released his arm.
"Let�s go home," his father decided, and left. Archie stood there, next to his mother, feeling his stomach doing summer salts. He held his hand to his mouth, then darted to the bushes.
"Archie Smith! Where do you think you�re going?" His mother screamed at him, grabbing his arm. His stomach lurched, then he turned around and let it all out� All over his mother�s shoes. She shrieked in horror.
"Archie!" his mother yelled through tear of humility and disgust. "Archie! Archie, are you on drugs?!" Her eyes narrowed as she spit the word "drugs." He shook his head in silent protest, still feeling woozy.
"I�m not even nine, mom!" Archie managed to whisper. Of course he went unheard. His dad pulled up with the car, and didn�t bother asking. It was not uncommon for Archie to get sick. His mother yanked him into the car, and they drove off.