"There have been several of these little foxes before her. They all wanted to ruin my son! Ruin this school's future! Who do they think they are? They think they're worthy of even speaking to my boy?"
Whitney took the microphone back. His tone softened, and he put on a show of magnanimity.
"Just apologize in front of everyone. Write a letter of assurance. If your attitude is satisfactory, I might consider not expelling you."
I looked at that phony face of his and couldn't help but laugh.
"You don't even know who I am, and you're demanding an apology?"
Delia exploded. "Who do you think you are? Who could you possibly be? You're nothing but a shameless little piece of trash!"
The angrier she got, the more unhinged she became. She charged at me, hand raised to slap my face.
I sidestepped. Her palm cut through empty air, and her momentum carried her forward. She staggered two steps, nearly pitching headfirst off the stage.
Laughter erupted from below.
Delia's face turned beet red.
"What are you laughing at?!" she screamed at the crowd. Then she spun back toward me, eyes wild with fury.
She pulled a red marker from her pocket and twisted off the cap.