Letters From Detention

Chapter 3

The next day, I was in the bathroom getting ready for school when my cell phone rang. I placed my Nume flat iron on the back of the toilet, hurried into my bedroom, and grabbed my phone from my messy bed. An unknown number flashed on the screen.

"Hello?" I asked hesitantly, walking back to the bathroom.

"Hey there, my Lovely Leah," a deep voice said cockily.

I rolled my eyes. "How'd you get my number, Kane?"

"Zoey," he stated simply. Of course.

"Well, why are you calling me?" I said, cradling my phone between my ear and shoulder to finish straightening my long dark hair.

"I was just going to remind you that we're hanging out today," Kane told me. I could practically hear the smirk in his voice.

"Oh, really now? And you decided this all on your own?" I replied, humoring him.

He chuckled. "Actually, you agreed to it yesterday. Remember?"

"Hm, yeah. But I'm busy today," I simpered.

"Doing what?" he demanded.

"Ballet. I have practice after school at four-thirty."

Kane perked up. "Great. I'll drive you there, so bring your little unitard or whatever to school. See ya later, babe."

Before I could protest, he'd already hung up. I groaned and placed my phone on the edge of the sink. Even though Kane and I were now sort of friends, it didn't mean that he could call me babe and try to put the moves on me. And who did Zoey, my supposed best friend, think she was just going around and giving out my number? It kinda pissed me off, honestly. I shuddered to think of a random guy who could've managed to get his grubby paws on my number in the process. No way did I want some weirdo texting me every second of the day.

It had been bad enough yesterday when Zoey had called and called and called, begging to know exactly what had happened with Kane. Which had been nothing. I mean, he caused me to get a bloody nose and then he'd cleaned it up. It really wasn't a big deal, even though every other girl at my school considered Kane to be the hottest f-ing thing to ever walk the planet. Um, they clearly weren't thinking straight. Hello, Channing Tatum? I grinned. With sexy visions of Channing dancing through my mind, I started applying my makeup (mineral powder, sparkly pale brown eye shadow, tinted candy cane-flavored ChapStick, and mascara).

When that was done, I went back into my bedroom and selected an outfit from my overflowing closet. Since it was pretty warm out, I decided on an airy tan lace top, ripped light denim skinnies with a braided brown belt, tan strappy wedges, and shimmery gold chandelier earrings with dark brown bangles. The whole ensemble was very boho and pretty cute, if I do say so myself. I pushed my favorite gold Ray Ban aviator sunglasses on top of my head, threw my usual practice clothes in my black Swan Lake ballet bag (a sports bra and a pair of matching leggings with my pointe shoes), and grabbed it along with my school books before heading downstairs.

"Leah?" my mom's voice called from the kitchen. "Come eat breakfast!"

I put my things down by the front door and walked into the hectic kitchen. Mom was flipping golden pancakes at the stove, Dad was attempting to control my three-year-old sister Mckenzie, and my older brother Riley was practically inhaling a towering stack of syrup-drizzled pancakes with crispy bacon on the side.

"Don't mind if I do," I singsonged and snatched a piece of bacon from Riley's plate.

"Hey!" he grumbled through a mouthful of pancake. I smirked at him and took a bite.