Chapter three
"Come on, Sam, it's not that bad!" Hayley says to me while scrubbing the desk with a dirty, soaked in detergent cloth. I want to believe her, I really do, but the longer I rub the scribbled, white table, the more I hate Audrey for getting inside the bathroom before I did. I roll my eyes at my best friend; I know it's not her fault that we're here, hell, in fact it is my fault for falling asleep and not kicking my sister out of the bathroom, but I'm so angry and in such a bad mood that it's impossible for me to think clearly for a second.
How come these desks are so damn dirty on the second day of school? I'm pretty sure I detached at least eleven gumballs from under the last piece of wood. Are these uncleaned tables from the past year? Why hadn't they cleaned them yet? It's their stupid job to keep them clean, not ours. We do write on them though, but we're not their pets. They can't just wait for any of us to be late to class so they can set us to clean the whole damn school.
"Samantha!" Hayley's voice interrupts my fretful thoughts.
"What?"
"Gosh, you're breathing. I don't know what the hell you were thinking 'bout, but I swear your face was turning red" she says, her widely opened eyes focused on detaching a green gum from under the desk. I look around and realize we're surrounded by piles of desks. I can't believe we have to be here for another half an hour. Why are we even here? We got to class fifteen minutes later because Miss I Take Long Showers took ages inside the bathroom, so I fell asleep and we missed the bus. So what? No big deal. Plus, we're alone here. Who gets detention on the second day of class? It's absurd!
The door swings open, revealing the last person I was neither expecting nor hoping to see. His lips curl into a small smile when his chocolate brown eyes meet mine for a brief second and, suddenly, all the anger I was holding in seems to disappear to be replaced by the nerve wracking feeling that his unexpected yet not inconvenient presence brings.
"Hi" he says while standing there with his hands inside his denim trousers' pockets. I look up to him, then back to the desk, escaping from his delightful gaze.
Ew, what the hell did I just think?
"Hi" Hayley answers without paying much attention and keeps cleaning her desk while I pretend to be doing the same.
"So... what am I supposed to do here?" Scott speaks again and his sharp, British accent echoes inside the room, which seems to be getting smaller and smaller every time he makes a single movement. I can't help but wonder if he's going to stay here for the whole year or if it's one of those exchanges for a semester only.
"You have to grab a rag and a fork from that drawer and clean the desks until it's your time to leave. With the rag, previously soaked in detergent, you must clean the top of the desks and wash the scribbles away, and with the fork you have to, or at least try to, unstick the freaking gum from under the wood." Hayley gives him her structured answer before I can even blink, and he does as she says with a silent nod.
After some minutes, an unbreakable silence has taken over the room and I find myself sneaking a few glances at him. He remains silent, scrubbing the table with a peaceful look in his eyes. His muscles tense under his tight, opaque blue t-shirt when he presses the cloth to erase the ink and he's just standing there as carelessly as if he hadn't just been sent to detention. Wait, why is he here? I know I've said this plenty of times, but it's the second day of class. He shouldn't be here.
Look who's talking, my subconscious butts in. But it's different in my case. I'm used to be here anyway, and he doesn't seem like the kind of boy who would be sent to detention very often. In fact, he seems just the opposite: intelligent and more like a respectful kind of person.
