The high school principal's office smelled of burnt coffee and old paper. The blinds were half-closed, letting in a gray light that made everything seem sadder than necessary. Fifteen-year-old Eddie Munson sat in the chair facing the desk, his long legs bent uncomfortably, his foot fidgeting.

Eddie had always been an active, loud kid, the kind who didn't hold back when something bothered him or seemed wrong. Above all, he loved fantasy and heavy metal music. Something that was perfectly normal to him. But not to everyone else.

Every now and then there was some kind of altercation, some problem with another boy who tried to make fun of him for showing up to class with messy hair or wearing ripped jeans and a necklace with the guitar pick from the guitar you gave him one Christmas a couple of years ago. Something expensive that you normally couldn't afford, but that you got for him with effort.

Because Eddie is your son. A child you've sweated and worked for since you got pregnant young.

The principal cleared his throat.

"Ma'am, your son is causing trouble again." He began, his tone a mixture of weariness and disapproval. "He disrupts classes, questions authority, distracts other students... and frankly, his influence isn't the best."

Eddie clenched his jaw. He knew this speech by heart.

"I wasn't doing anything wrong." He muttered. "I just said the book was wrong..."

The headmaster sighed, clearly unaccustomed to being contradicted.

"There's also the matter of his appearance." He added. "His hair, his clothes, the symbols he draws... some parents are concerned."

Eddie looked down, fiddling with one of his cheap rings. Always the same.