Mia

Kinds

I thought about skipping my next class to shake off the embarrassment, but I didn't. Room 408 holds my math class. I'm not bad at math, but I don't love it by any means.

I did what I was told and was as patient as I could be, but the small glances paired with whispering didn't make the class any more bearable.
Mr. Hencon is cool, jokes around a lot. But I wasn't in the mood today. He asked us to stand up, say our name and something we like to do.

The first girl to stand up was the girls who leaned over my shoulder last class.

"Hi, my name is Jenny and I like going to the beach." Her smile is incredible and hardly looks forced. How could you actually smile in a situation like this?
The names and favorite things drowned me, but I stayed sharp waiting for my turn.

"My names Mathew," the kid next to me starts to talk. "and I play the drums." When he sits down I stand up.

"My name is Mia and I work at the police station." Maybe I should have gone with "I like camping with my dad" or "I like hanging out with friends" even thoughI don't have many at the moment. But I don't. I say that I work at the police station because it's my life. I know my way around the break room kitchen as if it were my own. And I'm on a first name basis with almost everyone. I've been there a long time and it's one of my only constants.

I sit back down and other kids continue on but there's only a few more left. I wait and wait for this day to be over. I looked to my schedule with I had tried to memorize on the car ride here, but it didn't work. Everyday is the same except the non-academic I have change. Monday's are P.E, Tuesday's are art, Wednesday's are study hall, Thursday's are health, and Friday's are computer sciences. It's a set schedule which is one of the best kinds.

Mr. Hencon continued by telling us about himself. He has a wife named Margret and a 4 year old son named Thomas. He likes to volunteer at food banks and homeless shelters in his free time durning the summer. It's really hard to not like this guy, yet his choice of work plagues my opinion and of him. He's also very funny, uses dad joke after dad joke like he needs it to live. It's stupid, but I admit, I feel better.

*****

Gym was a whole different story. 200 or so kids all running the track outside. Moving made me warm but the wind made my face feel numb, I don't even need a mirror that my face is bright pink. I looked hard for Jenny, just to see if I had that kind of luck, but I guess not.

I run around a lot, for fun and for not. But I keep myself at a slow jogging pace. I do t want to be compared with the boys who run their lungs out to show everyone how cool they are. Just saying, they're usually on the football team.

In my search for Jenny, I notice that not all 200 kids are freshman like me. I wasn't paying attention much in orientation but I do remember something about staggered classes. So not all the freshman are in P.E. now, some were last class. Along with schedules being staggered, they are often jointed too. The older kids don't look too much older, probably sophomore or junior.

It's a classic 1/4 mile track and I make it around maybe 8 or 9 times in the 30 minutes they gave us. I could have done more, probably should've but there's no more time to dwell. It is lunch time after all. Normally I would leave the building, but this time I end up in front of a classroom. 206 just like a lunch monitor told me. She said there would be an upperclassman showing up eventually, but most blew it off until they were done hanging out with their friends.

I open up the door expecting to be alone. Who gets detention on the first day? Me. That's who. But I'm not alone. In fact the girl from the stairs is sitting at the teacher's desk. I'm kinda shocked and it probably shows on my face.

"What?" She's looking at me now, expecting me to sit down.

"I didn't expect to see you here, that's all."

"Well I certainly expected you." She's not paying attention anymore, reading a textbook or something.

"I'm sorry?"

"What?" She snaps back to our conversation.

"What do you mean you "expected me."

"What do you thing? I had to stop you outside this morning. It was reasonable to expect to see you now." I'm astonished by her audacity.

"My uniform has nothing to do with thi— this is unbelievable." The soreness from my legs spreads upwards.

"If not your uniform, then your ungodly attitude?" She's reading again. Is she trying to show off by reading and arguing at the same time.

"I don't have an attitude thank you very much."

"Then why are you here?" She looks up. "I was joking at first, but now I'm genuinely curious. What got you into detention." I look down in shame. Why did I not guess this is where it would go?

"I... phoned the Chief of Police in class."

"YOU WHAT?!"

"I called the Chief of Police while in class. I know I shouldn't have and I regret it but I don't know, it was impulsive and stupid."

"You called the police while in class! How are you not suspended?!" Her eyes and mouth were wide open in disbelief.

"I didn't call the police. I called the Chief of Police, Barry Stephenson. Works right down the street."
She was quiet waiting for me to elaborate.
"My dad works there and I know Barry pretty well. He gave me his personal phone number and I called him to ask about a case we worked on together." She had closed her mouth and composed herself, but still visibly shocked.

"Well then, not what I was expecting. At all. But I do have a question."

"Shoot."

"A case you worked on together? You're a cop?" She seemed oddly shaken.

"No. Of course I'm not a cop. I'm 14."

"But you said—" A boy walks in not wearing his blazer and a bag hanging over his shoulder.

"Hi Julian." The girl's cheeks turn a light shade of pink. Oooooh. This could be very good.