Remember Death

Chapter 7. Detention

I was startled when Bret offered to help me. Everyone knows he is a taker, not a giver. His words were cringy, but maybe this could be of mutual benefit.

"With what?" I dared to ask.

He leaned into my ear, placing one hand on my leg.

"Sarah told me you needed my help." He whispered softly, extending his hand up to my thigh.

"No thanks!" I barked, pushing his repulsive hand off me.

"Super, I don't care for gingers anyways." He said walking away.

The class busted out laughing. It was embarrassing, but I was not going to let it bother me. How pathetic could he get? The only thing he could think to say is he does not like gingers. I must say, that is disappointing, even for him. The class was finally over, and I could not get out of here fast enough. I started pacing down the halls as quickly as I could.

"Excuse me," Mr. Thompson said, "Don't you have somewhere to be?"

"Yes, of course. I was just heading to my locker and the bathroom really quick. I'll be right there." I assured him.

Lying, I had to make my fib become a reality. Away to the lockers and restroom I went. My belly started growling, knowing it would be awhile until dinner I decided to go to the vending machines. I bought a cherry coke and a twix candy bar. These are my kryptonite.

I go into Mr. Thompson's class to be greeted by, none other than, Sam. I tilted my head at him in confusion. Since this was detention, there was absolutely no talking allowed, and we had to space out our seats. I turned and stared at him until he acknowledged me. Sam gave me a sharp smile and held up a finger.

He began flipping through his binder and pulled a pen out of his jacket pocket. He wrote something down and folded it up. He looked at me to make sure I was paying attention and then glanced over to Mr. Thompson, to make sure he was doing the opposite. Which he was not, he was flipping through Cosmopolitan Magazine, trying to discover women's fantasies I suppose.

Sam dropped the piece of paper under his foot and slid it to the desk between us. My limbs are not quite long as his. I pretended to drop my pencil and picked up my message. I thought I was sly, but Sam slapped his forehead. I opened his letter:

I wasn't going to drive home and then all the way back to pick you up.

Unamused, I rolled my eyes at his letter and wrote back to him.

I did not figure you would, but that does not tell me why you are in here.

Did you not notice Mr. Towhampus is wearing a different shirt?

No, I was asleep for most of the class if you do not recall. You spelled his name wrong, btw.

I did no such thing. That is what I call him. But yeah. I didn't want to leave and then have to come back. Sooooooo.... I was pretending to do a magic trick and caught his shirt on fire.

OMG!! Dare I ask how? Was he hurt? I'm assuming not since he is still here.

Nah... He was fine, Cinderella. His shirt didn't burn too bad either. I filled his shirt pocket with germ-x and lit it up! It was hilarious. You would have loved it.

Shame I missed it. Why did you call me that? And what about your mood earlier?

Because, we met kind of like Cinderella and Prince Charming... But under darker circumstances. ;)

Interesting... So, about that tude?

Ah, right. It's nothing really. Not against you anyways.

Do you want to talk about it?