I squirm around on this 20 year old plastic seat. I think it may have originally been designed as a torture device, because its level of comfort is about the same as a bed of nails. I tug at my hem; I knew I shouldn't have worn my mini pencil skirt today. But then again, I had no idea that this is how I would be spending my Friday afternoon. In fact, I had plans to go with Alice to buy supplies for my party tomorrow night; that's if I'm still allowed to throw one at all. I can't imagine my mother being all too thrilled about my detention. Shit.
This is not how today was supposed to go. I should not be here, sitting in Mr Hemmings tiny classroom, that hasn't been redecorated since the 70s, with... these people. Jonathan Micheals, Reece Martin and Bailey García. What an odd group we are. And just my luck, I'm here with just three other people, out of our school of over 1000 students, and I manage to get detention the one day my crush does as well. Great.
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Every Rose Has Its Thorns
Teen FictionA Jock, A Princess, A Brain and A Loner. 4 teenagers sit in detention; but no, this is no Breakfast Club situation. Each one has a reason for sitting there, in that dusty old classroom at 3:30pm on a Friday afternoon. No one is, by any means, innoce...
