SHATTER

1. MISSING CLASSMATES WITH MENTALLY MISSING PARENTS

I've never been in detention before, and I never want to be again. When I first entered, a guy dressed all in black, with black lipstick and a pierced lip, walked up to me and just stared for what felt like five minutes. He didn't say anything; he just stared.

"I like your earring," I told him. The boy with black lipstick continued to silently stare me down, not even having the decency to respond to my compliment. He didn't blink when I politely informed him that the dark-emerald stone brought out the green in his hazel eyes.

Anyway, I'm officially scared of detention now.

Apart from the ticking of the clock, there was a ringing in my ears, the kind that comes with a long period of silence. I sat at my desk, bored to death, fiddling with my fingers. The maggot-white walls seemed to be closing in on me as I stared at the red arrows of the clock, willing them to move faster.

I couldn't believe I'd gotten detention for talking in class. Of course, the whole getting a D on my test could be a part of it—but still! I mean, I hadn't had time to study. The Walking Dead, Friends, and Say Yes To The Dress were on TV. (Even though they were repeats—still!)

"Cough, cough. Mazey!" I heard my best guy friend, Julian, whisper my nickname after some overly dramatic fake coughing noises from behind me.

My real name is Marie; it's pronounced like Mary. The nurse spelled my name wrong on my birth certificate (I know, right! Who doesn't know how to spell the name Mary?). Anyway, my mom had already wanted a unique spelling, so it had stuck.

"Cough, cough." Julian continued to make more obnoxious husky cough noises. "Mazey!"

I turned to see him grinning widely at me. Julian had created the nickname Mazey for me when we were kids.

At the beginning of detention, when a dozen or so students had taken their seats, Julian had chosen the seat behind me. During the first fifteen minutes, he had entertained himself by playing with my long, dark-brown hair. At first I had been half surprised to see Julian in detention. Sure, he was always up to something, but he almost never got caught.

"How'd you get allowed in here, Ms. Goody Two-shoes?" he'd asked when he'd first seen me in detention.

I was not a goody two-shoes! I'd just never gotten detention before, and the only reason I was in it was because my science teacher mentally and spiritually hated me. "I am so not a goody two-shoes," I'd told him with a scowl.

For the rest of detention, Julian continued to whisper "Ms. Gold Star" in my ear. I was starting to get annoyed. He kept trying to get me into trouble with Ms. Owen, the teacher who had the pleasure of observing detention.

"Mazey!" Julian whispered incredibly loudly.

I could almost see Ms. Owen's ears twitching. "Silence!" she shrieked, and then she went back to her magazine.

"Stop," I whispered to him. Since we were seated farther back in the classroom, Ms. Owen couldn't hear me.

"Cough, cough. Only a goody two-shoes—cough—would be whispering in detention. Cough, cough." He finally used his normal voice, and the silence made it seem as if he had shouted. Though no one could really understand a word over the fake coughing he used to mask it.

"Julian Russel! Would you stop that incessant coughing?" Ms. Owen yelled.

"I'm so sorry, ma'am," Julian said in his angel-innocent voice. "I just—cough—I think I'm—cough—coming down with something."

"In September?"

"I'm allergic to school." Julian tried. Ms. Owen glared at him suspiciously, but Julian tried again, not giving up on the charade. "Um, achoo?"