I was still a high school junior on that fateful day a little over a year ago when I found out the truth about myself, and when I was called into the vice principal’s office.

“Sorry, kid,” he said as he ushered me into his office. “This’ll be quick. Hopefully…” The “hopefully” was ominous.

The Vice Principal’s Office was very small and was quite… ramshackle as far as school offices go. And it was a bit small – but at least it was larger than the coach’s office back in my old school. But then that was a converted broom closet, and this wasn’t.

He gestured at one of his visitor chairs, and I sat. It was one of those big executive office chairs that you see in old movies – the kind that one practically sinks into. I found that, even though I was of average height at around five-ten, I found I couldn’t see over the wide and tall backrest, and I couldn’t see to my left and right given its old-style headrest that practically surrounded my head.

His office furniture was mismatched, with stuff scrounged from around the school, or second-hand government office stuff bought from clearance sales, such as my chair. The other visitor’s chair was also a cast-off - an old leather office chair with a straight, padded, rectangular back and spindly armrests. The rest of the furniture included an old 1950s–style metal office table, mismatched wooden shelves, old metal filing cabinets, et cetera. It sort of showed how low Mr. Daimon’s position in the school’s hierarchy was.

The vice principal’s chair, though, was a modern mesh office chair. Guess he wanted something nice for himself.

He then proceeded to tell me a tall tale that I found – well, judge for yourself.

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