Detention

Monday, the worst day of the week, had arrived with all its dreariness and discontent. As the sun reluctantly rose, casting a pale light upon the world, I couldn't help but voice my disdain for this particular day. "I hate Mondays," I grumbled under my breath, fully aware of the sluggishness that would accompany the start of the week. Engaged in the task of fixing my perpetually problematic locker, I found myself interrupted by an unforeseen force. Before I could comprehend what was happening, the door was forcibly shut, jolting me backward and causing my back to collide harshly with the unforgiving metal. The pain shot through me, and before I could recover, a voice filled the air, dripping with annoyance. "You know, leaving me on read gets on my nerves," he uttered, his hand gripping my arm tightly, as if to emphasize his words. Startled, I attempted to wriggle free from his grasp, my voice faltering as I replied, "I... I was... busy, Max."

His eyebrows furrowed, he retorted, his tone laced with impatience, "Okay, let's say you were busy, but couldn't you have found a moment to reply this morning?" The commotion drew the attention of passersby, and I couldn't help but feel the weight of their gaze upon me. The loud slam of the locker reverberated through the corridor, amplifying the intensity of the situation. Ella and her gang fixated their eyes upon us, their scrutiny piercing like sharp daggers. If stares could cause demise, I would surely be lying lifeless on the floor. Whispering under my breath, I couldn't help but express my exasperation, "You're such a bully." Max's eyes narrowed in response, silently conveying that he had heard every syllable. With an air of defiance, he turned away and walked off. Sensing the need to remove myself from the scene, I hastily began walking away, only to be abruptly shoved to the ground. It seemed that being a target for such physical encounters was becoming an unfortunate trend in my life.

Shaking off the incident, I managed to make my way to class, albeit later than usual. The classroom was abuzz with the murmurs of students preparing for the day's lessons. It was the period for Math, a subject I both admired and struggled with. As I entered the room, my nose still bearing the redness and puffiness from earlier, I approached the teacher with a sense of trepidation. "Morning, sir," I greeted, my voice betraying a hint of nervousness. The Math teacher, known for his strict demeanor, peered at me through his spectacles and uttered with thinly veiled sarcasm, "Oh, Bellona, you have decided to grace us with your presence." His words were saturated with disappointment and disapproval. Aware of my transgressions, I placed my completed homework on his desk, hoping it would somewhat appease his frustration. However, he had other plans in mind. "Put your homework on the table and make your way to the Detention room," he commanded, his tone brooking no argument. Panicking, I tried to offer an explanation for my tardiness, stumbling over my words as I stammered, "Sir... Sir, I am sorry, I was... I..." The Math teacher, unmoved by my excuses, swiftly silenced me with a stern gaze and a firm statement, "I do not want to hear your excuses, Bellona. Out you go. You are one of my smartest students, and yet you remain one of the most troublesome."

Reluctantly, I placed my homework on his desk, feeling the weight of my actions as I slowly exited the classroom. To my surprise, Max appeared beside me, gathering his belongings with a determined expression. Ignoring the teacher's reprimand, he whispered, "Wait up." The Math teacher intervened, his voice filled with annoyance, "Mr. Payne, get back to your seat." Disregarding the teacher's order, Max joined me on my path to the Detention room, his curiosity piqued. Seated inside the room, our supervising teacher succumbed to a blissful slumber, leaving us unattended. Taking advantage of the lax environment, I turned to Max and initiated a conversation. "So, tell me, what's your weakest subject?" I inquired, hoping to divert his attention from the recent altercation. Leaning back in his chair, he responded, his gaze lingering on my hands, "History is not one of my strongest subjects, and economics poses its challenges as well." His eyes fixated on my hands, scrutinizing them intently. Confused by his sudden interest, I questioned, "Who did what?" He pointed toward my hand, the one bearing the remnants of Ella's right-hand man's aggression. "Did what?" I asked, genuinely perplexed. Ignoring my inquiry, Max stood up abruptly, his hand firmly grasping mine as he exposed the wound left by Ella's henchman. Feeling my arm being held captive, I instinctively tried to retract it, stammering, "I... I... we... no one." The intensity of the moment escalated as Max issued a stern ultimatum, his eyes narrowing, "I will give you 10 seconds to tell me. If you don't, I will hit the first person that comes to my mind, and right now, you are the first on that list. So start talking. 1... 2... 3..." He began counting, his eyes closing as he leaned back. Realizing his intentions, I couldn't help but interject with a hint of sarcasm, "Haha, so you plan to hit me, a girl, huh?" I challenged, observing his reaction. The countdown continued, "4... 5... 6... 7..." I decided to join in the count, mocking his seriousness. "Let me help you count, shall I?" I quipped, mimicking his earlier actions. "8... 9," I added with a smirk, anticipating his response. As the final moment approached, he let out a chuckle, caught off guard by my audacity. Opening my eyes, I found his face inches away from mine, causing my stomach to flutter unexpectedly. A wave of vulnerability washed over me as he murmured, "You know, whenever you are with me, you always act like Wonder Woman. But when you are with Elizabeth, you're like... mmh... you're like Osama Bin Laden." Astonished by his remark, I corrected him with a sarcastic smile, "You mean Osama Bin Laden. You sure do suck at history." He retorted playfully, "I suck at history? Oh, please. His name is unnecessarily too long." I couldn't help but retort, "Not as unnecessarily long as your brain, it seems." We exchanged banter, with Max suggesting I pursue a career in comedy.

Unexpectedly, he reached out, encircling my waist with his hand. Startled, I attempted to loosen his grip, my voice trembling as I questioned his actions, "Uhm, what are you... What are you doing?" The fear of the unknown surged within me as I grappled with his touch. Trying to lighten the tension, I blurted out, "Tell me, will you kiss me?" My nerves got the best of me, and I nervously chuckled, hoping to diffuse the situation. To my surprise, Max responded with amusement, his voice laced with a playful tone, "Oh well, I was thinking of something else, but kissing might be nice. Besides, I haven't kissed anyone in 24 hours." A mixture of disgust and apprehension washed over me, and I exclaimed, "Eww... pervert! Get your hands off me. This position is killing my back." Adjusting myself to sit upright, his grip slipped, causing him to lose balance and fall onto me. The tranquility of the moment was abruptly shattered as the supervising teacher, roused from his slumber, admonished us, "Excuse yourselves! This is detention, not some type of couple's room. Respect yourselves!" With embarrassment coloring our cheeks, we quickly separated, understanding the consequences of our actions.

Released from detention, Max persisted in his demand to know the identity of the person responsible for my distress. Exasperated, I replied, "Max, even if I told you, there is nothing you could do to them." Locking his gaze with mine, he questioned further, "Oh, so it's a them, a team, a gang? Ella's gang?" His intuition hit the mark, and the confirmation hung heavy in the air. Before I could utter a word, chaos erupted. Max's anger boiled over, and he pounced on Ella's right-hand man, his fists landing blow after blow. Teachers rushed to intervene, attempting to restrain him. The scene turned into a chaotic spectacle, and I knew Max's actions would come with severe consequences. Desperate to defuse the situation, I positioned myself between Max and his target, pushing him away. In the midst of the struggle, Ella's henchman inadvertently struck my arm. Max's fury heightened, but I held his arms firmly, my voice resonating with urgency, "It was a mistake. Let him go, Max. You've caused enough trouble." The principal's stern voice echoed through the chaos, punctuating the gravity of the situation, "Max Payne, principal's office, now!" Ms. Petes' fury was palpable, leaving no room for negotiation.

With emotions running high, I couldn't contain my frustration any longer. Shouting at Max, I tossed his jersey in his direction, releasing the pent-up anger within me. "What's your problem, Max? Are you crazy? You've only just transferred here, and already you're getting into trouble," I yelled, my voice echoing through the room. He caught the jersey mid-air, slipping it on with a determined expression. "I did him a favor, Bellona. I did what his father should have done years ago," he retorted, his tone laced with bitterness. Gathering my own strength, I confronted him, channeling the hurt that lay beneath the surface. "Well, lucky you. You got detention... again. And guess what? You'll be doing community service for the whole week. How does that sound for trying to play 'daddy' in someone else's life? You know what? You're lucky you didn't get suspended," I declared, my words punctuated by a mix of resentment and concern. The tension between us reached its peak as Max inched closer, demanding an explanation. "I'm asking you again, why can't you speak to Elizabeth like that? You have the guts to speak to me this way, but you can't speak to a mere Elizabeth like that?" he challenged, his proximity heightening the intensity of the moment. "Well, Mr. Payne, you make me this way. Who wouldn't react when faced with your behavior?" I responded, my voice tinged with vulnerability.

The hallway grew silent, and the weight of our words hung in the air, mingling with unspoken emotions. Despite the turmoil, a flicker of understanding danced between us, revealing a sliver of the vulnerability we both hid. As we stood there, enveloped in the silence, the bell rang, signaling the end of the day. It was time to part ways, each carrying our own burdens. We exchanged one last glance, a mix of turmoil and unspoken apologies lingering in our eyes. With heavy hearts, we turned our backs on each other, each venturing into the uncertainty that awaited us outside the school's confines. The world continued to spin, its relentless rhythm echoing the complexities of our lives.