✰ 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝓁𝓊𝓉 ☾

→ 𝐭𝐰𝐨

               𝚜𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚍𝚊𝚢, 𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚌𝚑 𝟸𝟺, 𝟷𝟿𝟾𝟺- 𝟽:𝟶𝟻 𝙰𝙼

Allison and I walked into the library where everyone else already sat. Her and I walked to the back, all eyes following us as we moved past.

Preppy and Sporto both snicker at us as we walk past, but shut up real quick when I send them a glare.

I pulled out the chair that was dedicated to me. Allison and I had our own table in the back that we always sat at during these shit shows.
How could a chair be dedicated to me?

My name was carved in it forwards, backwards, and upside down.
Not just my name; but things about me, too.

See, I didn't scratch my name in this hunk of wood to declare it mine. I'm not that self absorbed.
A group of people in the 9th grade decided it'd be fucking hilarious to carve all the rumors about me into one of the back chairs in the library.

I look down between my thighs and run a finger over one of the most prominent carvings in the chair.

"SLUT"

How do you prove you're not a weak bitch to a bunch of hateful 9th graders?
You be the tougher bitch.

         "THANKS FOR THE FAN LETTERS,
                               DIP-SHITS"

"Are you touching yourself back there, Bitchet?"

I look up from the carvings, seeing the room turned to stare at me, a shit-eating grin on Bender's face.

"That's a very clever nickname, dickwad. You come up with that one yourself?" I roll my eyes, pulling my backpack into my lap to retrieve my cassette tape and headphones.
Apparently, that response didn't satisfy him.

"Whatcha listening to? Probably some gay chick music."
"Why don't you shut the fuck up, Bender."
"Why don't you make me?"

Before I could respond, Vern the Bull walks in like the coolest cat on the block.
"Well, well, here we are! I want to congratulate you for being on time.."

Goody-two-shoes raises her hand, "Excuse me, sir? I think there's been a mistake. I know it's detention, but um, I don't think I belong here."

Vernon ignores her, continuing his speech.
"It's now seven-O-six. You have exactly eight hours and fifty-four minutes to think about why you're here. To ponder the error of your ways.."

Bender spits gum into the air and catches it back in his mouth, causing Claire to look nauseous.

"..And you may not talk. You will not move from these seats." He stares at John.
"And you," he pulls a secondary chair out from under Bender's legs, "You will not sleep. Alright people, we're going to try something a little different today."

I huffed, rolling my eyes.
"Got something to say, Miss Blanchet?"
I looked at him, doe-eyed.
"No sir, of course not."

He glares at me before going on.
"We are going to write an essay, of no less than a thousand words, describing to me who you think you are."
I smirk- this is fucking stupid.

"Is this a test?" Bender retorts, leaning back in his seat.
Vernon passes out paper and pencils to all of us, ignoring John.
"And when I say essay, I mean essay. I do not mean a single word repeated a thousand times. Is that clear, Mr. Bender?"

John looks at him in a bored manner, "Crystal.."
"Good. Maybe you'll learn a little something about yourself. Maybe you'll even decide whether or not you care to return."

The geek raises his hand and then stands, causing Bender and I to grin.
"You know, I can answer that right now sir.. That'd be no, no for me, cause-"
"Sit down, Johnson."
"Thank you, sir." He quickly plops his ass back in the chair.

"My office," Vern points, "is right across the hall. Any monkey business is ill-advised."
He looks around at us.
"Any questions?"

"Yeah, I got one."
Dear Jesus, please make Bender stuff his face for just one second-
"Does Barry Manilow know you raid his wardrobe?"

"I'll give you the answer to that question, Mr. Bender, next Saturday in detention. Don't mess with the bull young man, you'll get the horns."
Thinking he just gave the world's class A response, he turns on his heels and leaves.
"That man.. is a brownie hound." John huffs.

Everyone shuffles around and gets comfortable. I just turn up the volume dial on my cassette, taking my jacket off and using it as a pillow on the desk.

It's going to be a long fucking day.