Truth or Dare?

Chapter Eight - Penn

At a ridiculously early hour, a butler knocked loudly on my door and said “Miss Hattley, you have an hour until class starts.”

I groaned and dreaded getting out of my bed, but as I knew it had to be a thing that happened, I toughed it out and crawled from under my warm covers and into the cold of the world. I quickly showered and dressed in a light purple sweater, a load of bracelets, my lucky owl bracelet, and a pair of dark wash jeans. I grabbed my denim knapsack and pulled out my phone.

I saw that there was a text from Aspen waiting on me. It said that she found Isabel, one of the girls from my dare. I thanked her, and I got to going, because if Aspen was out, I was probably late.

I turned my map on from the phone and followed it to the class. When I walked in, 24 eyes were looking back at me.

I waved. The blond, severe looking teacher at the front looked down at a list on her desk and then looked up. “Ms. Hattley, is it?”

I nodded, and she said, “Sit in the last remaining seat in the room, and please give me a reasonable explanation as to why you’re late.”

I shrugged and said “Got lost.”

“Detention, Ms. Hattley, during lunch period.” A few snickers went about the class and I felt my face get red as I walked over to the empty seat which was, thankfully, next to Danny.

He slid a piece of paper onto my desk so the teacher (who was named, according to the board, Ms. Seletine) couldn’t see it. I quietly unfolded it and said, “Don’t worry. I’ve got detention, too,” in sloppy handwriting. I raised my eyebrow at him to say “How?” He looked back at me, and his eyes said, “Just wait.”

At the front, Ms. Seletine was writing a prompt. It said, in very neat cursive, that we should write about something we knew. I thought for a moment and began to write.

I know that we, humans, are very complex, both physically and psychologically. Today I’m going to focus on the psychological. People often judge people before they even know them. Why is that? Is that an instinct? They think that just because someone wears all black, they’re gloomsday waiting to happen. They say if you’re wearing bracelets, you’re suicidal. My grandmother told me, before she died, that this has been around forever. That it’s not just our generation. But why can’t we stop it? Why do we have to be like this? I know that it’s in our power to stop with the judgment and the hatred but we never do. We let it continue on and on, a cycle of constant conclusions made by society about a person just because they aren’t society’s version of perfect. A girl from 4 getting laughed at by a girl from 1 for being born into a rich family, even though they both wish they could trade and they know it. A girl from 1 laughing at a boy from 2 who needs glasses but can’t afford them. It’s all preventable, but still, it happens, and we just judge and judge and judge. What I’m really trying to state here is we judge. What I don’t know is why. So as for a piece about what we know… I suppose you could say this was both an answer and a question.

I put my pencil down and looked at the clock. I’d been writing for ten minutes. Though it felt like two. I looked at Danny’s paper. He was finishing up, checking for errors.

I raised my hand, and Ms. Seletine looked at my paper. She nodded at it and said, “A, Ms. Hattley,” and almost walked away.

“Wait!” Danny said. “I’m done, too.” She turned around and read his paper.

Her face became slightly red and she looked livid.

“THIS IS NOT AN ACCEPTABLE PIECE, MR. BELLIS. PLEASE REWRITE, AND REPORT TO LUNCH DETENTION WITH MS. HATTLEY,” she yelled. The whole class turned around.

Danny smirked as she stalked off to her desk and handed me the paper. “This is why,” he whispered. I read it. “Basically, I know that you’re imprisoning us in this stupid castle for a little game you like to play. Good try, guys, but I know for a fact we’re just your entertainment. Please. Don’t insult my intellect further.”

I grinned and mouthed, “Perfect,” to him.

A voice came from the back of the room. Ms. Seletine was clearing her throat and had a paper in her hand. “Lightning,” she began. “What is lightning? What does it mean? Where does it come from? What does it mean? Does it have a meaning?”

She launched into a ridiculous essay about lightning, and at many points we were told AT OUR OWN PERIL!! and that we would have our souls knocked down by our trees! and that lightning kills people and knocks down trees. At the end of it, while the whole class struggled not to keep in the giggles, Jack yelled, “NATHAN DID IT, PASS IT ON!”

Everyone burst into laughter and Ms. Seletine angrily yelled, “LUNCHTIME DETENTION, MR. BOTTS.”

Jack smiled an “I know” smile which caused everyone to laugh.

“Alright, alright, everyone except the three detention recipients, out! Get to lunch, and be back by 12:45. If you are not, you will have an hour of after-school detention with me.”

Aspen groaned as she walked out.

“Ah, ah, ah! Young lady, Miss Wardal, is it, you’re staying in here. Do not give me attitude.”

“But I wasn’t—“

“No buts, would you like twenty minutes of after school detention as well?”

“No, ma’am.” Aspen muttered. I looked at her sympathetically.

Ms. Seletine told us to take a desk each and face it in a corner. When we did, she handed each of us a stack of lined paper and a black ballpoint pen. On the board, she wrote our name and a phrase.

“You’ll be doing lines, everyone. Repeat the phrase that is written next to your name over and over until the other students return. Aspen, you will write ‘I mustn’t give attitude.’ Danny, you will write ‘I mustn’t disrespect the board.’ Jack, you will write ‘I mustn’t be rude,’ and Penny, you shall write ‘I will not be late.’ Go.”

I sighed and turned to my paper.

Happy first day.