anwhile, inside the principal’s office, Boo sat proudly on his special floating cushion like an important politician attending a press conference, while across from him Dante sat in his large chair, fingers steepled, expression calm, but his eyes carried that quiet, dangerous patience he only used when Boo was involved.
"Sir," Boo announced dramatically, pointing an accusing little ghost finger, "you interrupted my work."
Dante’s gaze lifted slowly.
"Work?" he repeated, voice flat. "You... call that work?"
"Yes," Boo said firmly, nodding with confidence that did not belong to soone currently under punishnt. "I was communicating with my voters."
Dante blinked once.
"Playti," Dante corrected.
Boo gasped, deeply offended. "No, Principal. I was discussing my future policies and benefits I will provide if they vote for ."
Dante leaned back slightly. "Vote?"
"Yes!" Boo said proudly, floating higher in excitent. "Teacher wants to choose a class representative, and I think I want to beco one."
For a long second, Dante just stared at him.
Then, very slowly, he slid a notebook and pen across the desk.
Boo stared at it like it was a personal betrayal.
"...Why does book steal my na?" Boo muttered darkly, picking it up. "I am Boo. Only Boo. Then this thing cos... Book. Adds K. Now people say Book more than Boo. Identity theft."
He glared suspiciously at the notebook.
"Stealer," he whispered.
Dante pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose.
"Write," he said.
Boo sighed like a tragic hero forced into labor.
He opened the notebook dramatically, then paused.
"Sir."
Silence.
"Sir."
Dante did not look up. "What."
"How many sorry today?"
"Ten."
Boo looked relieved. "Oh good. I thought maybe twenty."
"Per page."
Boo froze.
"...Per... page?"
"Yes."
Boo slowly turned his head like soone hearing thunder in a clear sky. "How many pages?"
Dante finally looked up, lips slightly curved. "Depends how fast you gossip."
Boo clutched his chest. "This is a targeted attack."
"Write."
Boo started writing slowly, tongue peeking out in concentration.
I am sorry.
I am sorry.
I am sor—
He stopped.
"Sir."
Dante’s eye twitched. "What."
"If I beco class representative, punishnt reduce?"
"No."
"If I win election, punishnt reduce?"
"No."
"If I lose election, emotional damage reduce punishnt?"
"No."
Boo slumped over the notebook dramatically, his floating cushion dipping lower.
After two more lines, he squinted at Dante.
"Sir."
"...What now."
"Hypothetically."
Dante closed his eyes briefly.
"Hypothetically," Boo continued, "if soone else spread rumors that the principal talks to cactus..."
Dante’s chair creaked as he leaned forward slightly.
"...Yes?"
"And hypothetically if that rumor increased principal mysterious aura..."
"...Boo."
"Yes?"
"Write."
"...Yes sir."
Boo resud writing, grumbling.
Halfway down the page, he brightened suddenly.
"Sir, good news."
Dante did not respond.
"I am improving handwriting. Punishnt is building my future."
Silence.
Then, quietly:
"...That was the point."
Boo blinked.
"Oh."
He thought about it.
Then smiled proudly.
"I am growing."
Dante stared at the ceiling.
A few seconds later.
"Sir."
"...Boo."
"If I beco class representative, can I replace classroom chairs with flying cushions?"
"No."
"...I will add that to future policy."
"Write."
"...Yes sir."
Inside the principal’s office, the quiet had returned. The only sounds were the soft scratch of pencil on paper and Boo’s occasional dramatic sighs as he continued writing his apologies like a tiny, floating prisoner of education.
"Sir..." Boo said again.
Dante’s eye twitched. Slowly, very slowly, he lifted his gaze from the file in front of him and fixed Boo with a long, warning look.
"What now?" he asked, taking a very controlled, very patient breath.
Boo straightened in his floating chair, eyes shining with excitent.
"I have gossip about teacher!"
"No," Dante said instantly. "Don’t even think about it."
"But sir, you have to listen to ee," Boo insisted, floating a little closer to the desk like a conspiracy ghost. "Do you know Miss Alina used to like soone?"
Dante went very still.
His eyes narrowed slightly, sharp interest slipping through before he could stop it.
Fish hooked, Boo thought smugly, grinning inwardly like the spooky little nace he was.
"Well..." Boo said, lowering his voice dramatically. "I saw it in her eyes. She liked..."
He paused.
Very deliberately.
anwhile, Dante’s mind had already started working ahead.
If Boo was about to say Gabriel’s na...
Even if she had never loved him, Dante had to admit, objectively, Gabriel was... blessed. Angelic face. Golden hair. Calm, gentle, sweet voice. The type humans trusted instantly.
Annoyingly perfect.
Dante’s jaw tightened a fraction.
"Well..." Boo dragged the word out, vibrating with suspense.
Dante leaned forward slightly. "Finish. The. Sentence."
"Well, that soone is EEE!" Boo exploded into loud, wheezing laughter. "HAHAHAHA! She listens to all my gossip! She smiles at ! She clearly likes more! Hehehe!"
Silence.
Complete, absolute silence.
Dante stared at him.
Then slowly leaned back in his chair.
"...You," he said very calmly, "believe Miss Alina is romantically interested in you."
"Yes," Boo said proudly. "I am very charming."
Dante tapped the desk once.
"Boo."
"Yes sir?"
"You are four."
"I am tiless," Boo corrected proudly.
"You are emotionally four."
"Rude."
Dante exhaled slowly through his nose.
"And she smiles at everyone," Dante added.
Boo gasped like this was a personal attack. "Not like she smiles at !"
"How does she smile at you?"
Boo puffed up proudly. "Like I am special."
Dante looked at him for a long mont.
Then said very flatly, "She smiles at you like you are about to break sothing."
Boo froze.
"...No."
"Yes."
"...No."
"Yes."
Boo slowly turned away, staring at the wall like a betrayed soap opera character.
"...I need ti to process this."
"Write."
Boo scribbled angrily.
I am sorry.
I am sorry.
I am emotionally four apparently.
Dante slid the notebook back toward him. "Rewrite that."
Boo groaned loudly and erased it.
After a mont.
"Sir," Boo said again.
Dante did not look up. "If this is about teacher again."
"It is."
"...Continue. Regretfully."
"Well," Boo said thoughtfully, "if teacher likes you... then technically... I am your romantic rival."
Dante went very still.
Very, very still.
"...You," Dante said slowly, "are challenging ."
"No," Boo said quickly. "I am just acknowledging competitive landscape."
Dante stood up.
Boo imdiately saluted. "I surrender."
"Write twenty."
"WHAT?"
"For emotional disturbance."
"This is dictatorship!"
"Thirty."
"I love writing. Writing is my passion."
Boo bent over the notebook and started writing furiously.
Then after two lines.
"Sir."
"...Boo."
"If teacher likes you... and you like teacher..."
"...Continue."
"Does that an if you marry teacher... I get unlimited snack access?"
Dante stared at him.
"...Possibly."
Boo gasped. "WRITE FASTER HANDS! WRITE FASTER FOR FUTURE!"
He started writing at terrifying ghost speed.
Dante sat back down, watching him for a mont, then muttered under his breath,
"...Unbelievable child."
"Future snack security is serious matter," Boo said without looking up.
Dante almost smiled.
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