Detention Chapter 1: Detention

Detention.

Not a good way to start your first day.

Which would be exactly the reason for my first day in Northside High School ending in detention.

Let’s explain…

I woke up to the dulcet tones of my alarm clock, as most teenagers who have to attend school must, and, again like most teenagers, I completely ignored it until I realised that I would be late if I didn’t haul my ass out of bed. That, and my dearest mother was threatening to throw cold water on me if I didn’t “arise and greet the day”. Sluggishly I got up, still a bit jetlagged from the hasty flight over here – it takes something crazy like eight hours to get from England to the East coast of America, and the time difference is…something ridiculous, like six hours, making me one exhausted bunny. Anyhow, stumbled out of bed and tried to find a suitable outfit to wear for school. At first I thought that it was rather cool that I would be going to a school with no uniform, (being as I have worn a uniform in school ever since good old reception, when I was five) but those thoughts were scattering fast as I searched through my jeans and tops, trying to find something that would be

a) comfortable

b) look good and

c) be heat durable (It’s so freaking hot over here I don’t know how the Americans stand it)

I finally found some clothes that kind of reached all those standards, put them on and decided to forgo breakfast in lieu of curling my hair, something that happens with frightening regularity. Meh, I’ll live, as long as I eat a good dinner tonight. I was just finishing the last curl when I heard a loud engine going past the house. Looking down out of the window my eyes widened as I realised that it was my school bus, which was yellow. Of all the colours in this world, the school buses in America have to be yellow. I was shaking my head in confusion at the American government for a couple seconds before it dawned on me: the bus was gone. Without me. Oops.

“Mum, I’ve missed my bus because of you!” I screeched as I ran down the stairs dangerously fast, three at a time, my newly curled hair bouncing around my face – when in trouble, it’s always the mother’s fault. As I reached the bottom I scanned the shoe rack carefully, looking for the sparkly flats that I’d gotten cheap from Faith because a bit of glitter was missing from the left heel. They were, quite possibly, my favourite pair of shoes, which is saying something because I have lots of shoes.

“No honey, you missed it because you’re lazy, and you decided to take ages getting dressed this morning!” she called back cheerily. I scoffed at her words – I hadn’t taken ages…just a little longer than normal, but I think I could be excused, as I had to choose my outfit carefully, and choosing an outfit is a complex affair, especially when one is trying to make a good, not to mention cool, impression on one’s new schoolmates. Anyway, most of my stuff was still packed in my suitcases, so I’d had trouble locating anything. I finally spotted the shoes, their sparkle hidden by a nasty pair of grey slippers that did not belong to me…at least, I hoped that they didn’t.

I grabbed the piece of toast out of my mum’s hands and ran out of the door, yelling a quick “Goodbye!” as I left.

Halting on the pavement, I devoured the toast extremely quickly, and then grabbed my blue iPod mini out of my bag, thinking quickly. Since I’d missed the bus, this called for some pretty quick running, which I felt I needed some good tunes for. I knew where the school was, thankfully – about ten minutes, maybe more, by car, so about twenty (or less) by foot – I was extremely glad that I wouldn’t have to ask some weirdo where to go. I glared down at my sparkly shoes: they weren’t the best for running in, but I guessed that I could manage okay. Shrugging, I pulled my hair up into a tight bun, all of it scraped back - I was going for speed, so didn’t want my hair all over the place. It would be a little messed up by the time I got to school, but I really couldn’t care less at that moment in time – screw the labels I’d probably get. At least I had a nice shirt on. I found my ‘Running Fast :)’ playlist, and started it. The first song was by KT Tunstall: Hold On, and I grinned as it came on – it was possibly one of my favouritest songs ever, and I don’t care how un-grammatically correct that sounds. I glanced at my watch just before I started – ten to eight. If I was super fast, I might just get there only five minutes late. It would be a challenge. I grinned as I shot off: a personal challenge, something to work at, and something to do with running.

Perfect start.

I love the feel of the wind rushing past your face as you run, the beat of the music in your ears the same as your feet on the ground, the feeling of freedom – sometimes I feel that if I just push myself a little bit further I could take off into the air. That’s the feeling I get every time I run, exhilaration mixed with the thrill of the speed, and I love it. It would also be the reason I was the county’s top runner, back in England – thrill makes me achieve.

I got a few odd looks as I ran past, and some knowing ones – mostly from younger people, who still remembered what it was like to miss the bus. I arrived ten minutes late – not too bad, but I knew that I could do better. I felt myself smiling as I entered the school building, grinning even more when I realised that I was. Smiling, I mean. Haven’t smiled properly in a while. I was walking down a corridor, hoping to god it was the one that actually led to reception, fishing my map out of my bag as I did so, to see if I was going the right way. I was – my direction skills are unparalleled. Haha.

When I got there the hawk featured, half–moon–glasses wearing lady at the desk scowled at me, demanding to know why I was so late on the first day of school. I smiled disarmingly, hoping to put her in a better mood than she was presently in

“I apologise, it was entirely my fault – I missed my bus,” I said truthfully. The response was a grunt. There was an awkward pause as she surveyed me, evidently trying to ascertain whether or not I was lying. After a couple more seconds she looked back down at the pile of papers in front of her, seemingly completely ignoring me.

“Uhh, could you give me my timetable? I haven’t got it yet,” I said hesitantly. She glanced up at me, highly irritated. Well, I probably would have been a little irked too, because I think that students are supposed to receive their timetables and maps in the post or something, and to have students coming up to you on the first day saying that they haven’t got one…well. At least I had an excuse: I was in a different country when everyone else got theirs.

“Name?” I found I was finding her accent particularly annoying – it sounded southern – not that there’s anything wrong with a southern accent, but that combined with her high-pitched voice was enough to grate on my nerves.

“Kate. Kate Marshall.” Instantly, her demeanour changed – it was quite comical actually. Her face contorted into a grimace, which in hindsight must have been her attempt at a smile.

“Miss Marshall? Heavens girl, why didn’t you tell me that straight away? The principal wants a word – his office is that way,” she said, gesturing to the left with one highly nail varnished hand – her nails looked like they’d been painted with blood. Shuddering at the image whilst trying to smile my thanks at her, I turned left, privately wondering what a principal was. I came to a door with a shiny plaque reading ‘Principal’s Office’ and stopped, realising I had never gotten my timetable. Maybe this principal was going to give it to me…maybe. Sighing, I knocked gently on the door, belatedly realising that I should’ve done something about my hair, which I knew was coming loose as bits were hanging around my face – the curls were still in place though, which was a modern miracle in itself.

“Come in.” was the curt response to my knock. I obliged, coming into a very boring, very plain room, containing a desk, three chairs – one behind the desk, two in front – some filing cabinets and some pictures on students on the walls. And a small, probably balding (no-one I know would naturally have a hairline that far back) man who didn’t look too happy. I guessed that this would be the principal. I also guessed that he must be the American version of the English headmaster.

“Good morning sir,” I said politely, “The receptionist told me you wanted to see me?” He blinked a couple times before acknowledging my words.

“Yes, I did Kate,” he moved to sit behind his desk, “Do take a seat,” I willingly complied, sinking onto the hard surface gratefully – the adrenalin rush from the running had just about worn off and I could almost feel a wave of tiredness physically crashing over me.

“Kate, why are you late?” he asked mildly, but with a glint in his eye that suggested this was no casual enquiry. I swallowed before answering – for such a short man, he sure emanated a lot of authority.

“I missed my bus,” I began, but before I could continue he interrupted,

“So you got your mother to drive you in? Surely she would have got you here on time, even if you had missed the bus,” his tone was not exactly scathing, not quite sarcastic, more along the lines of condescending. And I hate to be condescended to, something about it really tugs my chain.

“Yes sir, she would’ve, if she could’ve.” I said forcefully – one eyebrow got raised, and I continued, “But being as she hasn’t got her licence for over here yet, she couldn’t drive me. I ran.” Both of his bushy eyebrows shot straight up, and I’m sure that if he’d had a normal hairline, they would’ve practically disappeared below it.

“Ran?” his tone was incredulous, as if he couldn’t believe that the girl sitting in front of him could possibly be sporty in any way. He shifted in his seat a little, “You must be quick – be sure to join our track team – it will gain you extra credit and we’ve needed a good runner for a while now.” He paused, narrowed his eyes at me, and continued, “But we’re off subject here. You are late, but for now, I shall postpone any punishment. It’s good to have a foreign student amidst these halls…” the door banged open and a tall boy slouched in and effectively threw himself on the remaining chair – I didn’t see much of his face, as most of it was covered by his fringe thingy. Definitely an emo, I thought to myself. Oops, there I go stereotyping. Silly me.

“You wanted to see me, Mr. Sanders?” he questioned rudely. His tone was insulting, imperious, as if he was better, or rather, had more power than the headmas…principal. I looked at the principal; surprisingly, he looked almost scared. Who was this guy?

“Erm, yes I did. You see Zach, it is my duty as your principal to remind you that bullying will not be tolerated in this school…” Mr. Sanders’ tone was a shocking contrast to what it had been seconds before – it was almost subservient.

“He provoked me!” A slight pause.

“A freshman, Zach? Surely you are above that.” The head suggested tentatively. Zach smirked.

“It won’t happen again.” I could almost hear the at least, not that you’ll hear about that he probably said in his head. Mr. Sanders was aware of this too, and only nodded unhappily.

“Well, I’ll be going then. Nice talking to you, Sanders,” Zach grinned and quickly left the room after shooting me an un-interpretable glance. There was a small, very uncomfortable silence.

“Mr. Sanders,” I began hesitantly, frowning slightly, “I hope you don’t mind me asking, but who is Zach?” The principal sighed and slumped in his seat a little.

“Zach is the son of the richest man in town – his father has lots of influence. If Zach’s needs aren’t ‘properly catered for’ then the school’s in trouble. I’ve only been here a year – the last principal got sacked for daring to try and suspend Zach for violence to another student.” Whoa. Twisted.

“That’s not fair, sir. No student should be above another primarily based on how much money they have.” I stated angrily, the debate student in me kicking into gear.

“Yes. But we can’t do much about it, until someone more influential comes along and shows Zach his place. ” He sat up straighter, saying, “Now, Kate- isn’t it?” I nodded, “don’t be late again. I appreciate that you missed the bus, here’s you schedule, get out of here.” Slightly surprised, I stood to leave, taking the paper from his outstretched hand.

“Thank you, sir,” I intoned politely before leaving. Once out of the office, I found Zach leaning against the opposite wall, waiting for someone. I couldn’t resist saying something to him.

“Back so soon?” I questioned, the corners of my mouth lifting into a half smile. He smirked, giving me the once over, eyes lingering on places I would rather they not; inwardly I cringed. Trust me to attract the attention of the school creep. Though it was actually my fault this time – I talked to him first.

“I never left.” he said amusedly, “I was just waiting for you. Thought I could…show you around.” His tone suggested that ‘showing me around’ to him meant something different to what it meant to me.

“Whatever for?” I had my best airy-fairy voice on, “I have a map right here.” I waved it in front of his face. He snatched it from my hand. Glaring, I attempting to grab it back – to no avail, as he simply raised it above my reach; now, I’m not short by any stretch of the imagination – I’m 5’ 10” and a half – but Zach, he was over six foot by a good couple of inches, so he clearly had the upper hand.

“Could you please give it back to me?” I said, smiling at him prettily and fluttering my eyelashes. He smirked.

“You know, for an English chick, you’re pretty fucking hot.” I blinked, nonplussed, and reverted back to my normal voice.

“Okaaaaay. Now that’s in the open, can I have my timetable back?” He raised an eyebrow at me.

“Timetable? That’s like, for a bus. Do you mean your schedule?” I huffed an impatient ‘yes’, and patiently continued to hold out my hand.

“Na-ah.” He said, smirking once again, “You get this,” he shook the piece of paper in his hand, “for a price.”

“Oh? Sorry to say, but I’m not a rich bastard like you obviously are.” I said eyeing his evidently very expensive clothing. His slate-blue eyes narrowed at me, and he walked off. What the hell was his problem? I was tempted to let him go, but I needed my map – this school was fucking huge, waaay bigger than my little English school of five hundred pupils altogether. I hurried after him, but damn his strides were long. We were out of the reception area and in a deserted corridor – everyone else was in lessons I guessed - when he stopped, still looking cross.

“Now, tell me what you called me again.” He said calmly. I gave him a slightly disbelieving look. Was he really that bothered?

“Rich? A Bastard? Sorry for having my own opinion.” I said, shrugging slightly. I was unprepared for what came next – he moved too quickly. Suddenly I was pinned against the nearest wall, his face right in mine – he clearly didn’t have any respect for personal boundaries. My shoulder bones hurt – they stick out a lot and the impact of hitting the wall had hurt them. I’d probably have bruises. One of his hands still had my map clutched in it, I noticed. I also noticed that he was quite good-looking. Actually, quite didn’t quite cover it: he was hot. Well-defined cheekbones, haircut that suited his whole emo image, nice mouth, etcetera. Well, didn’t stop him from being an absolute asshole.

“I wouldn’t be so insulting if I were you,” he hissed, “I could ruin your school reputation in a minute, if I wanted to.” I raised my eyebrows, saying dryly

“Thanks for the offer, but I’m fine.” Realising that I was on my tiptoes, I added, “Now, if you could please let go of me, it would make my day.”

“What’s the matter babe? Don’t like how close we are?” he smirked, moving closer so he was pressed up against my upper half, our foreheads almost touching. Bastard. Nobody calls me ‘babe’ and gets away with it. I met his eyes, giving him the most scathing look I could muster.

“Actually, I’m loving every moment of it, and was wondering if you’re going to screw me right here, or drag me into an empty classroom so we can have some space.” I could swear I almost saw my sarcasm drip onto the floor. He chuckled.

“I was just thinking that. But I like this wall. Makes you more…confined.” At this I kneed him where it hurts – god only knows how I managed to get enough space to do that but hey. He recoiled and I punched him in the stomach.

“Last word freak,” I told him as I grabbed my map off the floor and ran off to my French lesson.

Glancing at my watch, I realised that I had missed more than half of the lesson – what was I going to say to the teacher? I opened the door tentatively.

“Why are you late?” barked the teacher, a fairly old woman who looked vaguely like the deputy head at my old school.

“I, uh, had to talk with the head.”

“The who?” Sniggers accompanied this question. Belatedly, I realised my mistake.

“I mean the principal.” The woman smiled knowingly

“Ah, you must be our new student, Kate Marshall,” she smiled at my surprised expression, “It’s your accent. Please, take a seat. You can sit next to Adam over there.” She gestured to a boy slumped in a seat in the far corner. He looked up at me, shook the hair out of his face and grinned good-naturedly. Smiling, I moved to take my place as she continued the lesson – it was on the subjunctive, something I’d already partially covered in my GCSE course, and gotten used to using in my stay in France over the summer.

“Greetings foreigner.” Joked the boy as I sat.

“Hello to you too Adam.” For the next five minutes I tried to pay attention to what the teacher was saying, but found it fairly boring, so my mind wandered. I was brought rapidly back to the present when Adam slipped a note onto my side of the desk. It read:

Do you have a guide round the school? Can I be it if no? 

No I don’t have a guide – you can be it.

Thanks

Adam was grinning now, and I smiled too – he was quite cute, especially when the edges of his eyes crinkled like that…I thought of something, and hastily scribbled something onto the piece of paper, passing it to Adam.

Do you know a Zach?

He gave me a quizzical look.

Zach who??

How am I supposed to know his last name – I only just arrived in this school!

Okay, what does he look like?

Tall, blackish hair, bluey eyes, bastard attitude. (Sorry if you’re best mates)

I know him – he’s the most conceited asshole this school has ever seen. Why did you ask?I met him when I was talking to the principalDid he do anything?Slammed me against the wall for calling him a bastard

I thought it was best for him to have it on paper – guys can get really over protective sometimes – clearly, even guys I don’t know, as was proved by Adam’s next actions.

“He did WHAT?” Adam growled, evidently very upset. I hastened to placate him, saying quietly,

“Don’t worry, I kneed him in the balls, then punched him in the stomach.” A look of pure admiration crossed his face.

“Whoa girl, you got nerve.” He chuckled, “No-one, especially a girl, hurts Zach Andersen. You’re now officially my new hero,” His eyebrows came together slightly, “But he’ll try and get you back for it you know, he’s like that. He isn’t the school bully for nothing.” I smiled slightly.

“Aw, I’ll be fine – and now I have you on my team!” The bell then rang, almost as if to agree with me. We both laughed, and he said

“Yep, you sure do – I hate that bastard more than anyone else in the school.” Slinging my bag over my shoulder, I quickly asked why.

“C’mon I’ll tell you on the way to your next lesson – what do you have?” I checked my timetable…sorry schedule.

“AP Calculus. What does AP stand for?” he grinned at me, walking through the melee of students in the halls.

“You really don’t know anything about high school here do you?” I huffed. “AP stands for advanced placement. Means you’re smart. Got it?” We turned into an empty corridor – a short cut, I was assuming.

“Yep. Now, tell me why you hate whatshisname so much.”

“Surely you can’t have forgotten my name already?” drawled a smooth voice from behind us. We both whipped around and I glared at the person slouched against the wall: Zach. He continued speaking, seemingly unperturbed by the glare.

“Well, I know how to get rid of that problem – just sleep over at mine, and you’ll be screaming my name all night in that sexy English accent.” He smirked as I gaped at him, disgusted beyond words. No one has ever spewed sexual innuendoes at me like that. Ugh. Adam intervened at this point.

“Stay the fuck away from her Andersen.” Zach’s smile broadened

“Why? Because you said so? Sorry, but now I’ll try harder – all of your girls come crawling to me anyway, so…” but he never got to finish his sentence, because Adam hurled himself at Zach. I was pretty sure this fight wasn’t about me – although I may have triggered it. Fascinated, I watched them for a second, having never been this close to a fight before. They were both on the floor, throwing punches – Adam was going to have a black eye, and Zach’s nose was bleeding already. Not that I cared if Zach was hurt but it looked pretty violent, so I decided to try and break it up. Taking a deep breath, I stepped closer to the tussle.

“Guys, stop fighting.” No response. Well, there went my Quaker approach to it. Zach now had Adam in a headlock and was trying to strangle him.

“Stop it!” I screamed, trying to pull Zach’s arm away. He smirked at me

“Tell me you’ll kiss me if I let him go.” Adam was turning purple, so I did the only thing I could – I said yes. I was lying to him, of course, and since I’m good with my words I was betting that I could find a way out of it.

“Yes what?” Zach snapped.

“Yes, I’ll kiss you if you let him go.” Smirking ever-more broadly, Zach let go of Adam, who sat on the floor for a second or two, gasping for breath, before getting up.

“You bastard,” he said to Zach, who nodded mildly. A second bell rang, meaning that I was now late for my second class. What a day.

“Goodbye, thanks for all the help,” I said sarcastically, turning to leave.

“Wait a second, you owe me a kiss,” Zach said, grabbing my hand. I looked up at him and smiled sweetly. I had just had a revelation.

“Indeed I do. Would you like it now?” and I swung my fist into his face, then ran to Calculus, even though I had no idea where I was going, leaving a cursing, and probably bleeding, Zach behind. I heard running feet behind me and broke into a run myself, thinking it was Zach, before I heard Adam calling me

“Kate wait! I have calculus too!” I turned to look at him. His lip was swelling and he had a black eye. His neck probably had a few bruises too.

“You can’t go to calculus now – you look terrible. Go to the school nurse, if there is one. Meanwhile,” I said, sensing he was about to interrupt me, “Tell me how to get to calculus and I’ll say I got lost.” After arguing about it for maybe another minute, Adam relented, and told me how to get there, before heading presumably towards the nurse’s office.

“Where have you been, young lady?” asked the teacher coldly as I walked in. I smiled, wincing a little,

“Uhh, about that. I kinda got lost – I mean, this is my first day here, and I had no-one to show me around…my supposed guide is a little worse for wear at the moment…” I trailed off. The teacher glared at me disapprovingly.

“Hmmm. Next time this happens you’ll get a tardy mark. Take a seat – over there, next to Blaine.” An emo with vibrant blue streaks in his black hair smirked up at me. Mentally grumbling, I made my way over to the seat.

“Nice ass” the guy muttered as I sat down.

“Yours ain’t half bad either, considering it’s growing teeth.” Someone in front of me sniggered, while I received a death glare from Blaine. I grinned at him.

“You must be one of Zach’s buddies.” He raised a pierced eyebrow, in a how-do-you-know kind of gesture. Mwahaha, I was spot on. They were probably best friends, knowing my luck.

“You have both perfected the death glare,” I explained, “Which I have now received numerous times today, yet surprising have not dropped dead yet. Maybe I’m immune.”

“You know Zach?”

“Well, not know exactly – he tried to ah, convince me to spend a night with him, not that his methods are very enjoyable or persuasive,” I said darkly, “I have run into that…boy twice now,” I smirked, “And both times, he’s come off worse for our encounters.”

“Aaah, you must be the bitch he was complaining about in Geometry” I looked at him, eyebrows raised, momentarily ignoring the insult.

“Geometry. You take geometry and calculus? What kind of freak are you?”

“The hot kind,” he assured me, grinning. I rolled my eyes. Honestly, boys.

“Kate, were you listening?” came the voice of the teacher. I snapped to attention, replying immediately.

“Yessir,”

“Alright then - what is the answer to the question on the board?” I glanced up at it – it was a simultaneous equation. Doing some quick thinking I paused, then said confidently

“x equals two, which means…y must equal 3,” The teacher nodded, with an impressed ‘well done Kate’. Blaine was looking equally impressed.

“Well, if you aren’t little miss math.”

“I’m not little.” He chuckled.

“You’re definitely not,” he said, looking pointedly at my chest. I grabbed his chin and yanked it upwards.

“Eyes up, or you’ll be getting the same treatment as your buddy.” And that halted the conversation for a good fifteen minutes. The lesson was almost finished when Blaine had to ruin it by talking.

“You know, Zach’s supposed to be in this class, why isn’t he here yet? There’s only five minutes left.” Blaine’s voice was filled with a sort of morbid curiosity.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” I frowned slightly. Maybe my fist had connected with his face a bit hard. I hoped he didn’t have a broken nose, he’d definitely press charges, and my mum and me weren’t quite up to paying whatever we got sued for.

“What?” demanded Blaine, “What did you do?”

“I, uhh, kissed him with my fist.” He glanced at me. I continued, “He said he wouldn’t throttle Adam…”

“You met that asshole already?” Blaine made a disgusted sound in his throat. I ignored it, determined to find out why they hated each other so much later.

“As I was saying, Zach was throttling Adam, I asked him to stop, and he said only if I gave him a kiss. Which I did, technically, as he didn’t specify what he wanted me to kiss him with.” Blaine laughed out loud.

“God you’ve got guts Kate. Knowing him, he’s either with the principal, trying to get you expelled, or he’s thinking up a more…devious way to get you back. Personally, I would think that he’s doing the latter. If he is, I’ll help him,” He looked me square in the eyes. “And that, sexy, is cause for concern.” I looked at him for a second or two, trying to decide if he was lying or not. Despite his teasing tone, I suspected that he wasn’t joking. Woops was the word that came to mind.

“So, Zach thinks I’m a bitch. What do you think?”

“Zach thinks you’re hot, and since we have the same tastes, I’d say you’re hot too.”

“Thanks,” I muttered. He lifted a finger in a ‘wait-a-second’ gesture.

“However, Zach thinks you’re a bitch, but I just think you need to loosen up – I dunno, maybe spend that night with him after all – that would definitely get you loosened up,” he chuckled nastily. All previous goodwill for him vanished instantaneously. “Or,” he grinned suggestively, “You could go out with me.” I may have been that stupid a year or two ago, but not now. I gave him my ‘you’ve-got-to-be-kidding-me’ smile.

“You? You may be hot, but you’re an emo, and I don’t go out with emos. Or creeps. You fit nicely into both those categories so no.” The bell rang and I got up to go. I rushed, hell, practically ran to the door. Once out of there, I pulled out my schedule from my pocket, and saw that I still had two more lessons before lunch – and there was no break! Stupid school. I had English next…and I didn’t know where to go. Dammit, where was Adam?

“Kate!” I smiled with relief as I recognised Adam’s voice. Turning, I saw that three people – two guys and a girl – accompanied him. The girl was quite pretty, a brunette, like myself, and she managed to pull the whole glasses wearing but not appearing geeky deal off very well. The other two guys were average, one had sandy coloured hair, the other an unnatural Afro that didn’t really suit him, but still. I was betting that they were much nicer than Blaine and Zach.

“How did you recognise me from behind?” I questioned, smiling warmly. Adam grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corner cutely. He pointed at my feet.

“Two reasons: a) you’re tall and b) your shoes. They’re quite, uh, distinctive.” I laughed, feeling a lot better now that I had a familiar face to talk to.

“Thank god I wore them today.” I looked up at him. His lip had stopped bleeding, now it just looked swollen, but his eye looked the same.

“Did you see the nurse? You look better. Do you know what happened to Zach?” The answer to the last question was particularly important, and I’m sure that Adam picked up on the nervous note to my voice as I asked it.

“What? What happened to him?” asked the sandy hair coloured friend eagerly, plainly hoping it was something bad. Adam grinned at him.

“Kate here punched him in the face.” They all burst out laughing.

“No way,” gasped Afro guy, “No freakin way – what did he do?” Adam chuckled.

“I don’t really know – he didn’t go to the nurse’s office, or the principal’s, I think” at this I let out a huge sigh of relief, receiving laughs from all around

“Sorry” I apologised, “But Blaine told me Zach was probably going to try and get me expelled, that or get me back another way.”

“Don’t worry – I’ll protect you!” Adam claimed gallantly. We were all laughing when I heard a voice coming from the speakers above our heads

“Would Kate Marshall please go to the principal’s office immediately,” My mouth dropped open in shock.

“He didn’t go to the principal’s office eh?” I said as I waved Adam and co goodbye and started towards the principal’s office. God help me, I thought.

Mr. Sanders looked a lot less happy as I walked into his office for the second time that morning. Frack. I was definitely in trouble. That bastardly snitch Zach was going to get it, I thought darkly as I sat down.

“Miss Marshall, do you think you would be up to becoming a personal tutor for someone?” the principal asked me calmly. Well, that was an unexpected question. I frowned slightly, chewing on my lower lip.

“Sir, I haven’t even been at this school one day…” Hell, I hadn’t even been there a full morning – how could he be expecting me to tutor someone?

“Yes, but Mr. Yielding hastened to tell me about your excellent performance in your AP calculus class – you solved that simultaneous equation in seconds.”

“Sir, it wasn’t a hard question.” I squirmed in my seat – I hadn’t meant to let everyone know I was freakily good at math.

“To you maybe, but others would have found it much more difficult, which is exactly why I need you to tutor – this person got exceptionally low grades last year, and needs to become much better in order to pass, as to get into college you need an acceptable grade in one or more of the math subjects – besides,” he added in a lower voice, “I would not like to have to suspend you for your violence towards Mr. Andersen. Yes he told me about it, but is kindly not pressing charges, and asked for you to not be suspended, but I will do so if you don’t accept becoming a tutor.” I seethed inside. Blackmail, in America!

“Fine,” I said through gritted teeth, “I’ll tutor this whack-job. Who is it?”

“He was told last term to find a tutor over summer break, but he failed to do so.”

“Who is it?”

“Zach Anderson. He requested you specifically, and since no other candidates have come forwards…” he trailed off. I felt myself gaping again. No one else had volunteered? What did that tell you?

“I don’t have to go to his house, do I?” I said weakly. The principal gave me a strange look.

“That’s the point of you being a personal tutor, Kate.”

“Na-ah, NO WAY am I tutoring that fucker at his home. You can’t make me.” I protested loudly, standing up. Mr. Sanders shrugged, saying,

“It’s that or expulsion, Kate.” I narrowed my eyes at him, hating it but knowing that I’d have to do what was being asked of me – there were no other schools around here that offered full scholarships like this one had. Damn.

“And you now have detention after school tomorrow for your language. You may leave now.”

Detention for swearing once? That was the outraged thought in my mind as I stormed out of the office, only to find Zach slouching on the wall again.

“I’m getting a distinct sense of déjà vu,” I commented dryly, crossing my arms in front of me. He gave me his trademark smirk, shoved a bit of paper in my face, - which I took because there was nothing else to do with it - and then walked away saying

“Tutoring starts tonight, my house.” Glancing down, I realised that the paper had his address on it, and a time: 6:00. Great. What was I going to tell my mum?

When I got to English, after having again made apologies to the teacher for being late, I joined Adam’s group.

“Not expelled?”

“Nope. Worse. I have to tutor that jackass. And, does anyone know how long detention is?”