Two sounds great!
“No! It’s not right, and it’s not fair! You guys let kids get picked on in this school and then the kid who finally is fed up and sick of it gets in just as much trouble as the one who threw multiple punches!”
“We’ll make it two weeks detention.”
I rolled my eyes.
“Want to make it three weeks?”
Maybe.
“No. I’m just saying it’s not right,” I said in a much calmer tone.
“Let me remind you that if you had been doing what was asked of you, you probably wouldn’t have gotten hit the second time,” the dean said smugly.
I knew when I’d come close to pushing something too far, and if I had pushed much more, the dean would have required a parent conference. I absolutely didn’t want that. I nodded, letting him know I accepted his bullshit and left it at that.
After school I went to my locker and collected my other books and then headed to the room for detention. When I arrived, one of the history teachers was babysitting the detention room today.
“Patrick, didn’t you just get out of detention last week?”
I nodded.
“Alright…” He sighed. “Pick a seat, work on your homework, and stay quiet.”
No problem.
I was really good at being quiet. Kids were still lazily filing into the room for detention as I worked on finishing my English paper. I was feverishly scribbling to get the words down before they left my mind, when someone walked by me and bumped my arm, causing me to send a stray blue pen mark across the paper.Fuck!Enraged, I threw my pen down. When I looked up, I saw Derek, the punk-ass prick who punched my back in gym class.
“Dude! What the hell?” I snapped and stood up.
“Hey! It’s the pussy slow poke,” Derek joked and kept walking.
“Boys! Knock it off! Sit down and stay quiet, or I’ll add another week for each of you,” the history teacher threatened.
I grabbed my paper and held it up so the teacher could see.
“He just wrecked my paper!”
“Oh well,” the punk said. He leaned over the desk, took the paper out of my hand, and then flung it to the side so it fluttered to the ground.
Before I had a chance to react, the teacher thankfully stepped in.
“Derek, that’s another week for you.”
“What?” Derek unraveled and tried to plead his case. “He came at me when I walked by! I didn’t mean to bump him!”
“Didn’t you?” the teacher dryly asked.
“No!”
“Mmhmm. Pick up Patrick’s paper and hand it back to him.” Derek stood there defiantly with his hands on his hips, shaking his head as he looked at the ground. “Now!”
Derek made more grumbling noises but bent down and swiped my paper off the ground.
“Here.” Derek handed it to me without looking at me.
“That’s what I thought, punk,” I said as I took the paper from his hands and went back to my desk.
