Don't Forget About Me

Detention on a Saturday? Really

You would have thought table graffiti would get unnoticed by teachers, or ignored at least. But no, Mr. Vernon isn't like any other teacher, is he? He just so happened to see my slightly exaggerated drawing of him at our lunch table (which was expertly done in permanent marker, by the way) and ask around practically the whole school to see who was behind such a 'deviant act'. Fair to say, he now didn't particularly like me.

Walking to school at around 6:50 on Saturday morning, I started to ponder who else could possibly be at detention. John Bender, most definitely. He was my older brother's troublesome friend who was my age and constantly hanging around my house to escape whatever crappy home life he had. Despite this fact, we had never had a proper conversation - maybe the occasional greeting and sarcastic comment. I'd been told by Carmen, my best friend, that John had been the one to pull the alarm the other day: a classic prank that led to someone setting their sleeve on fire in my chem class.

When the dreaded building came into sight, I noticed a couple of vehicles were pulled up outside of it. Of course, everyone's parents were probably a lot more understanding than my own. See, my dad didn't even know I was here. He couldn't know. Alex said he was going to lie for me, but I told him to stay out of it. One thing was for certain: when I came home a few hours later, Dad was going to beat the living daylights out of me. He hadn't been 'all there' for quite a few years now; the alcohol in his system seriously messing with his brain. That was the main reason why Mom decided to leave one day and never come back - not even for her two kids.

When I walked into the library, Claire Standish, one of the popular girls in school, was already sitting at the front desk, not looking too pleased to be there. I wasn't exactly the biggest fan of people who taunted other people who seemed 'lesser' than them, so I decided to sit at the back of the room.

As soon as I sat down, someone that I didn't recognize walked into the room. He was wearing a dark green sweater and some hideous pants, giving me the impression that he was a bit nerdy. Keeping his eyes to the floor, he sat down on the table in front of me and behind Claire.

The next person to walk in was some stereotypical jock wearing his school jersey. Like Claire, he was presumably part of the popular group who bullied anyone 'below' them, therefore I wasn't really interested in getting to know the guy. He ended up sitting at the same table as Claire, keeping one seat between them.

Next, John Bender himself walked in, messing everything up on the librarian's desk as he walked past it. He had his sunglasses on and a long coat, but his combat boots and flannel were visible underneath. Now, I don't know if it's because I automatically have a deep respect for anyone wearing flannel, but the sight of Bender made my heart do a small leap of joy. Upon noticing me, he went over to the table in front of me and stood over the nerdy-looking guy intimidatingly until he moved to the next table over. Smirking approvingly, John removed his shades and gave me a small nod as a greeting, sitting down on the chair in front of me and leaning slightly in my direction.

Last of all, Allison Reynolds shuffled into the room and went straight towards the table beside mine. Avoiding eye contact with everyone else in the room, she plopped herself down in the seat furthest away from us all and faced herself in the opposite direction. See, I knew she was a bit of an outcast, but from what I knew of her, she was pretty cool. I'd been partnered with her for some science project a year before and complimented her multiple sketches of a winter landscape which she'd decorated with her own dandruff. Her individuality was really appealing to me - at least she wasn't a sheep like everyone else seemed to be.

Claire and the jock snickered at one another after eyeing up Allison, causing me to roll my eyes. Judging people already and we were only two minutes in. Seconds later, a teacher walked in: Mr. Vernon. Damn it, if he was the one keeping us in here, I certainly wasn't going to get the best treatment. "Well, well," he started. "Here we are. I wanted to congratulate you for being on time."

Before he could go on further, Claire raised her hand to catch his attention: "Excuse me, sir? I think there's been a mistake. I know it's detention and all, but I don't think I belong in here."

"It is now 7:06," Vernon continued, ignoring the redhead. "You have exactly eight hours and fifty four minutes to think about why you're here. To ponder the error of your ways." He paused when John spat into the air and caught it expertly in his mouth, Claire grimacing in disgust upon seeing it happen. "You may not talk. You will not move from these seats." See, you'd think he would have known better. When had detention ever worked out like that? Vernon then walked over to John and swiped away the seat that he was resting his feet on. Turns out, they didn't have the best relationship either. "And you will not sleep." The teacher's eyes then snapped to my own: "Same goes for you, Adams." He practically spat my surname as if it was some disgusting word. Such manners a teacher could have. "All right people, we're gonna try something a little different today. We are going to write an essay of no less than a thousand words, describing to me who you think you are."

"Is this a test?" Bender questioned.

Surprise, surprise: Vernon didn't even acknowledge him as he passed out the paper and pencils. "And when I say essay, I mean essay. I do not mean a single word repeated a thousand times. Is that clear, Mr. Bender?"

"Crystal," John replied, not looking at the teacher.

"And don't even think about writing, or drawing, anything else on this piece of paper. Is that clear, Adams?"

I smiled sweetly and nodded: "Wouldn't dream of it, sir."

"Tread carefully, missy. I can easily bring you back again next week." I raised my eyebrows, but said nothing. I couldn't risk sneaking out of the window again next Saturday. If Dad miraculously didn't find out this time, he most certainly would next time. "Maybe this paper will make you learn a little something about yourselves. Maybe you'll even decide whether or not you care to return."

The nerdy-looking guy then raised his hand and stood up: "You know, I can answer that right now, sir. That'd be a no. No for me because--"

"Sit down, Johnson," Vernon ordered harshly.

Harsh. "Thank you, sir," Johnson replied, taken aback but sitting down anyway.

"My office is right across that hall. Any monkey business is ill-advised. Any questions?"

"Yeah, I got a question," John spoke up. "Does Barry Manilow know you raid his wardrobe?"

I smiled in amusement and heard some snickers coming from Claire and the jock. "I'll give you the answer to that question, Mr. Bender, next Saturday. Don't mess with the bull, young man - you'll get the horns."

He then walked out of the library and down the hallway, leaving the door wide open. "That man," Bender started to say, "is a brownie hound."