After much thought, I've decided to give Cliff a chance, drug dealer or not. I could be nice to him without being friends with him, right? Besides, as long as I'm cautious things might turn out...or they might not. This could possibly be the worst choice I've ever made in my life.
I just can't seem to ignore him or the feeling that we were supposed to meet. It's the sole thing that's preventing me from never seeing him again. He's the only person that seems to want to talk to me and he's the only one that's made me laugh since I left my family. I just want to be able to forget and he aids me in doing so. He helps me escape even if it's for a little bit.
He doesn't seem like the type who would threaten my life, but then again, most people who threaten your life don't seem exceedingly horrible at first. Plus, I kind of owe it to him for stopping Daniel from completely pulverizing me yesterday afternoon. The logical side of me feels incredibly idiotic for not staying away. I'll probably end up dead just because I can't become acquainted with someone who doesn't deal drugs.
I'm just like every other stupid teenage girl in every cliche movie and I dislike those corny movies almost as much as I disliked staying with my parents. I dismiss my thoughts as Cliff himself comes waltzing in the room...the waltzing part was not a figure of speech...
"Hey, Ettie Spaghetti," Cliff greets with a small tug to my black hair. I hear the ever familiar creaking of the chair behind me.
I gaze back at him. "Hey yourself, Spiffy Cliffy."
"Spiffy Cliffy? Is that the best you can do?" Cliff snickers relentlessly.
I search the sky as if a better nickname would come crashing down before me. "Ehhh, pretty much."
"Silence!" The detention supervisor roars above all five of our voices. The group of kids that are present today, besides Cliff and I, are what I call the zombie group. They're the exhausted kids that sleep through the entire hour. Once in awhile they mumble inaudible words in response. That is, if they're feeling particularly enthused. Normally, it's impossible to get any sort of information out of them whatsoever. But, I see no wrong in them sleeping sometimes you just need a good nap to get you through the day.
"Somebody's wife made him sleep on the couch last night," Cliff murmurs from behind me and it takes all I have to keep from laughing hysterically.
"Alright people, I'm Mr. Wade as most of you delinquents already know and today I'm supervising detention. I have to finish my lesson plans and copy some packets for my class, but I expect that at the end of detention today my classroom will be spotless. Is that clear?" A chorus of 'yes, sir's take place. "Alright, all you make your way to room 217. I'll be checking in periodically." Mr. Wade points at the door to the right. All five of us follow him to the exit. He pulls out a clipboard with all of our names except for Cliff's written on it. He motions us to the clipboard one by one. After two kids, I step up. "Name," he says in a mundane tone, like he's been doing this for his whole life.
"Ette," I tell him.
He makes the sound of a buzzer on a game show, which makes me jump. "Try again."
"Lynette," I correct making a face of disgust to my toes. I don't want any association with that name.
"Yes." He waves me through. I wait for Cliff on the other side of the door. "Name," the teacher booms. My heart races for Cliff. What is going to tell him? He and I both know his name is not on the list. Usually, the teachers don't take attendance like this. They just call names out and kids claim them. They wouldn't notice the additional person whose name hadn't been called, and if they did, they were a lot more forgiving than Mr. Wade. Cliff's been lucky he hasn't showed up the past few times he was here. I watch Cliff open his mouth.
