The Bad Boys' Soft Boys' Lonely Hearts Club - The Full Package

Trapped With The Bad Boy QB!

To be honest, I kinda thought that detention was gonna be a blessing. A place where everyone just sits down, looking at an underpaid grunt of the American education system, wasting away his golden years in a tenure position that has probably resulted in a few divorces, without being able to interact with each other.

Meaning, a perfect way to not interact with anyone. It should be empty, right? I mean, who even gets detention on their first day of school?

That was before I realized that the answer to that question is, of course, bad boys. I fell into a cliche and didn't even notice. I got Breakfast Club'ed!

Now, as I enter the Reagan-era classroom that I'm sure is painted with at least three layers of asbestos and dreams of thousands of students being churned out of the education system like sausages - which most of them don't even know what they contain - my worst fears are realized.

Not only are me and Hayden in, but also that weird Laila girl from earlier, along with a couple of weirdos. Of course they. In my efforts to stay out of any possible plot point, I'm forced to be with a bunch of main characters. How do I know that they are? They all have colored hair, impossibly handsome features, as if sculpted by Adonis himself, and weird clothing.

The first of this handsome weirdos is a blonde guy with freckles, chewing an apple. Why do all douches have to eat apples? Are they powered by bitter skin and disappointing levels of sugar?

The second is a guy who looks like he bumped into a wardrobe. Full-on gloves, a scarf that obscures his face, thick glasses, and wait a minute. Am I describing everything in a monologue again? Goddammit! Their trap is already working.

"Mr. Gomez, isn't it?" says the underpaid teacher in charge of detention, a poor sap who looks like someone who can describe his love life with titles from Taylor Swift songs. Probably listens to them unironically, too.

It now occurs to me that I've been standing by the door like an idiot while I monologue, and continue to do so. Maybe if I stopped doing it would I be able to get away from this trap. "Yes," I say. Genius.

"Take a seat wherever," he said with the same poise one would use against someone demanding to see the manager of a Mcdonald's because their french fries weren't salted enough. Meaning, too light for what it really meant.

Since I was the last one in, everyone had already taken a seat relatively apart from each other in a way that forced me to sit adjacent to at least one of them. See? This is why being first is always the best move.

Now, where to sit? Right out of the bat, I'm not sitting next to Laila. Since I got here, she wouldn't stop staring at me and monologuing under her breath.

"What is hidden behind those glasses," she yells/whispers, again, without proper capitalization of what is obviously a question. "Will his orbs be aquamarine or topaz or rondonite ? or are his endless pools as dark and mysterious as his jacket? I can't help but quiver by the though of crossing paths with him once again. How are the odds of us meeting again?."

"It's pronounced 'thought' with a t at the end," I whisper to myself. Won't be sitting near her anytime soon.

Certainly not near Hayden. I know his type. Jock bad-boy, captain of the football team, probable boyfriend of the head cheerleader. I'll give my left nut if he doesn't drive some kind of sports car. Probably will take my presence near him as an affront that only his fists can solve, and I'm not about to be fisted at school.

That sounded bad. Anyways.

It either comes down to Captain Overcoat-during-summer, or Douchy Van Dick. I'll go safe and go with the scarf-man.