Yours Musically

6. Punishment Doesn't Fit The Crime

Chapter Six - Punishment Doesn't Fit The Crime

A plate full of sautéed veggies was placed in front of me, and I slammed my face next to it into the table, groaning. My nose felt flat against the surface as I shut my eyes, hoping for the day to be over already.

"Stop being so dramatic," said Mrs. Brooke, our housekeeper, in a monotone as I pictured her rolling her eyes at me.

"Please, Mrs. Brooke. This is tortu—" My nose caught a very familiar whiff, and I lifted my head to the bowl of spaghetti she'd just placed in front of me.

My eyes lit up. "I knew you weren't gonna do that to me." My hands started to reach for it, but she pulled it back, shaking her head. "You can have it after finishing your veggies."

"Reward meal, I see." My eyes narrowed.

"Exactly."

"Fine." It was easy eating the vegetables when there was a reward meal waiting to be devoured after them anyway.

"How was school?"

"Ugh you don't wanna know." I sighed while pouring the dressing she had prepared over the vegetables. The dressing was her speciality that made the veggies edible for me. "I got detention. And that's not even the worst part."

"Detention? You? Why?"

"The answer lies across the street."

She stared at me pensively. "Is that supposed to be a quest for an answer?"

"You're feeding me veggies after a very crappy day. I'd say we're even."

"Do you seriously expect me to go clue hunting across the street? Am I gonna find some test paper in the bushes, Becks?"

I chuckled. "No. But you're gonna find a certain arrogant ass who's somehow getting in my way a lot lately."

She pondered over my words with a little frown until it hit her and she blinked. "Oh no. This doesn't have anything to do with Matt Williams, does it?"

"Bingo."

"I thought you guys weren't talking since middle school."

"Good old days, Mrs. Brooke. Good old days."

She sat down across from me and held her chin in her palms attentively, saying with a grin, "I'm listening."

"Are you sure you wanna hear it?"

"Yes."

"Okay, I'll tell you. But remember you asked for it."

All Mrs. Brooke did was laugh and occasionally widen her eyes as I dictated the events of my entire day to her.

"Ink, huh?"

"Exactly. What kind of psycho keeps a bottle of ink handy?"

"I was wondering why you jumped straight into the shower the moment you got home. You never do that."

"I also had to walk myself home, so I was sweaty."

"Walk?" Her brows crinkled. "I thought you were riding with Meera."

"I was but I didn't want her to wait for me till after detention so I asked her to leave."

"Why didn't you give me a call to come and pick you up?"

"Because I hadn't taken a walk in ages. It felt good."

"In the scorching heat?" She made a face.

"The weather was fine." I waved my hand dismissively and got back to telling her everything that had happened. And when I finally concluded with how our detention ended, she burst out laughing and, to my annoyance, seemed a little impressed.