The door of George Dean's room creaked open and his father walked in. Jonathan Dean was like George’s clone, only with small wrinkles in his skin and a fully shaved head. He looked over at his son. Jonathan’s face was neither kind nor caring, neither considerate or compassionate. He hadn’t asked whether or not George had suffered any serious injuries during his exhibition match with David Johnson. And he wasn’t going to.
“Your life is an extension of my own.” Jonathan began his lecture. “And my life is an extension of the Dean family heirs that came before me. No more. No less. And the actions you take, be they honorable or embarrassing, reflect not only my life and yours, but also on Dean Enterprises and everything this family has built.”
George was about to respond. But just as he opened his mouth, his father shot him a look of dismissal.
“In your defensive,” Jonathan continued, “I have no idea why Principal Nelson would authorize such a ludicrous exhibition match. But I assure you he has been chastised. Having said that, George, the boy was an amateur. This David Johnson character shouldn’t have been able to touch you. And you let him beat you within an inch of defeat.”
Jonathan sighed.
“For the good of the family, I banish you from this household," Jonathan said, his voice completely void of emotion. “Everything has been arranged. In light of your failure, I expect you to comply. It's the least you can do for embarrassing this family. Tonight will be your last dinner. You'll leave in the morning. My public relations staff will release a statement saying you will attend a boarding school in Europe. Frankly, I don't care what you do. As long as you're gone in the morning.”
And his father was gone. George Dean sat at his desk ashamed and confused. David Johnson did things with trash that he couldn’t do with the finest combat training in the world. And that’s what humiliated him the most. He stared callously at the reflection in the mirror on his desk, his eyes narrow, dark and menacing. And he made a vow.
I’ll get you, David Johnson, George Dean thought. You won’t get away with making a fool of me.