𝘽𝙍𝙐𝙏𝘼𝙇 • 𝘾. 𝙂𝘼𝙇𝙇𝘼𝙂𝙃𝙀𝙍

𝑪 𝑯 𝑨 𝑷 𝑻 𝑬 𝑹 𝑻 𝑯 𝑹 𝑬 𝑬

[  𝐁 𝐑 𝐔 𝐓 𝐀 𝐋! ]
"You vs me. the loser does what the other asks for a month after, deal?"

The rest of the day dragged out slowly. After getting her matching detention slip with Carl and an hour of a lecture from the very judgmental counselor, they were finally ushered back to class with bags of stale chips since they didn't get lunch.

She didn't see Carl after that. Alessia's eyes nearly popped out of her when she held up the detention slip when she sat down next to her in class. Valentina caught her up while the teacher droned on and on. Apparently, Alessia knew Carl and his family and even had a crush on Debbie before she became friends with this annoying group of girls.

Classes dragged on without Alessia. Valentina fell asleep during her second-to-last class, drained from the constant chatter and annoyed teachers talking about the same things.

And then finally, the last bell rang (which nearly gave Valentina a heart attack as she was mid-dream). She was dead set on sneaking with the crowd to skip the detention but was caught by the guidance counselor who was holding Carl by the elbow.

"That wasn't a good escape plan, Castro," Carl whispered as they were ushered to whatever class they would have to sit in for the next two hours.

She glared at him, "Like you did any better."

"I could've done better, I'll admit, but this chick wanted my number"

Valentina laughed but couldn't get a word out before the guidance counselor hushed them and opened a classroom door for them. The brunette went for the window desk, her eyes on Carl when he was ordered to sit in the back. He was the only interesting person in the room now.

"What if I have separation anxiety, Mr. Andrews?" Carl comments as he drags his feet towards the desk.

"It shocks me that you know such a big word, Mr. Gallagher," The salt and pepper-haired man states, exasperated, sitting on the squeaky chair behind the teachers' desk with a newspaper.

The hour went by terribly slowly. It would've been torturous if Mr. Andrews hadn't taken pity on them 30 minutes in, by ordering them to go clean the lockers graffitied while he watched to make sure they would not leave.

"You owe me for this." Valentina huffs as she shakes her hand out that was cramping from all the scrubbing, holding the yellow-red sponge in her other hand, glancing down at Carl, who was crouching down scrubbing the lower lockers.

"Didn't force you to grab the can, did I?" He teases, carelessly, not even looking up.

Valentina sighs and continues scrubbing the red paint miserably.

"I really should've just ditched for the chocolate," she grumbles irritably under her breath.

"No talking," Mr. Andrews orders, turning the page of his newspaper loudly.