"I know we broke up, but.., " he whispers in my ear, trailing his finger lightly along my arm. He places a soft kiss on my collarbone, making a shiver course through me.
He tilts his head so he's staring straight into my eyes. His pupils dilate as...
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You know there are times when your parents say they won't buy you an item you want because it's too expensive, but two days later, they purchase it just to make you feel happy.
Yeah, this was not one of those times. Mr. Smith didn't come back for us.
A guard opens our cell after a few minutes, not to let us out, but to allow us to place a call to our parents.
Ashley bolts out first, grabbing the cell phone to make a call. She pauses while typing, turning her head to hand me the phone.
"Aren't you going to call your mum?" I raise a brow at her but collect the phone anyway.
"I never bothered to memorize her number. I only know my dad's," she shrugs, placing her hands into her back pocket, walking back into the cell.
My dad picks up almost immediately. "Hey, baby, " His voice comes out muffled, followed by chewing sounds.
"Hey, Dad," I say in a sweet voice. The type of voice I use when I want to stay out late or get an expensive Birkin bag. "So, something happened."
"Yeah, I know. You are in a cell," He says with a laugh.
Did he just laugh? I'm behind bars for the first time since I popped out a stranger's vagina, and my dad laughs?
"How did you know?"
"Mr. Smith sent a message to the group chat," he replies, chewing loudly on his food.
Group chat? I thought old people couldn't work cellphones.
"Anyway, I heard you guys took a stance against Mr. Baker. I'd like to say I'm proud of you, but all the other parents are against the scene you kids caused, so, " He swallows and clears his throat. "How could you disrespect Mr. Baker like that. I know you care about your friends, but there are other ways to go about it."
I roll my eyes, sighing into my phone. Everyone knows logic doesn't work with Mr. Baker. He's a determined man who always liked to have things go his way.
"Dad, can you just come pick me up?" I ask, leaning against the wall.
"Uh- No. Mr. Baker said you'll be out in 24 hours," Dad replies, nonchalantly.
"You're kidding, right?" I widen my eyes in disbelief. Why are we being held? A lot of people were in the wrong during this incident. From Mr. Baker to the old lady and her caregiver or daughter, but they chose to put us behind the cell.
Ageists. They are discriminating against us because we are young and our parents don't care.
"Or visit forty-eight? At least you're with your friends," Dad chirps, and I hear voices in the background.
