DETENTION

AUTUMN ✧ LATE AFTERNOON ✧ SUNNY ✧ OUTFIT

[attr="class","brenpost"]Beyond the doorway, out in the hall, a sudden commotion erupted. “This is a load of bullshit! You want me to spell it out for you?!” An irate teen’s voice rang out, showcasing her fury by spelling out the word seconds before the door swung open. A female, who could only be described as a thug, stormed into the detention room.

The teacher behind her spared no glance at Brendon or the front desk, simply closing the door with a firm gesture, signaling he was done with the task of escorting the rebellious senior to her latest consequence.

The senior, a tall girl with a swarthy tangle of black hair and a few visible scars etched across the left of her face, cast her disgruntled gaze first upon the teacher’s desk and then onto him.

Having never seen her before, Brendon stiffened at her advance, his gaze narrowing as he cast a brief look toward the vacant teacher’s desk.

“Hey, you.” She planted herself before him, towering over his desk as if trying to intimidate him into oblivion. “What’re you in here for?”

The scowl that suddenly held his features wasn’t exactly friendly.

“None of your business.”

Just then, Mr. Robinson stepped back into the classroom, pausing at the sight of the new arrival. A certain Ms. Kushnir, whom he was very familiar with. He let out an audible sigh. “Ms. Kushnir, sit down.”

DETENTION

AUTUMN ✧ LATE AFTERNOON ✧ SUNNY ✧ OUTFIT

[attr="class","brenpost"]“…Listen here, you little sh—,” The girl began, her rough demeanor intensifying. But Mr. Robinson’s return to the classroom diverted her attention away from him, cutting off her words.

The tension within Brendon lessened as he silently observed the exchange between the teacher and this volatile student. Why did she have so many prominent scars across her face? What had happened to her?

At least he could feel more at peace — and not on the verge of being attacked — with adult supervision in the room.

“FINE. I hate this school…,” The tall senior spat before stalking to the nearest desk, which just so happened to be the one neighboring his own. She dropped into the chair with a careless air, and Brendon could nearly feel the waves of silent fury radiating off of her.

Mr. Robinson, on the other hand, seemed satisfied that she was at least seated, and turned his attention back to his tv shows.

Brendon couldn’t help but stare at the other student, his brows snapped downward as he tried to figure out who the hell this girl was and why she was so brazenly acting like some sort of delinquent.

DETENTION

AUTUMN ✧ LATE AFTERNOON ✧ SUNNY ✧ OUTFIT

[attr="class","brenpost"]To his surprise, though he supposed he shouldn’t have been, the senior rested her head against her arms, cleverly concealing her phone from the teacher’s view. However, when she noticed his gaze lingering on her, her crimson eyes flickered toward him, her demeanor completely shifting.

She snapped upright with an exaggerated intensity that reminded Brendon of those scenes in movies or TV shows where two alpha males got uncomfortably close to each other’s faces, trying to assert their dominance.

“Why the f— What do you think you’re looking at?”

Brendon was beginning to suspect that this girl was more bark than she was bite. Although, her explosive need to exaggerate the role of delinquent still left him somewhat stunned.

He actually scoffed with amusement, propping his chin on the open palm of his hand and deliberately turned his attention back to the schoolwork in front of him. What a strange person.

DETENTION

AUTUMN ✧ LATE AFTERNOON ✧ SUNNY ✧ OUTFIT

[attr="class","brenpost"]“Hello? Are you deaf?” She taunted, causing Brendon to press his lips together to stifle a smile. He half expected her to grasp the edges of her desk and hop it closer to him in pure defiance. “Did you not hear what I just said?”

Brendon briefly glanced at the detention chaperone, who was still absorbed in his show, before bringing his attention to the Senior.

She was currently discreetly trying to use her phone.

“Why are you such a firecracker?” He questioned in a whisper, making sure not to gain the teacher’s attention, while arching an eyebrow in questioning.

When she rummaged through her bag, a cigarette fell out and rolled across the floor, coming to rest before his shoe. She really was some sort of rebellious teenager, wasn't she? He thought as he looked back up at her.

DETENTION

AUTUMN ✧ LATE AFTERNOON ✧ SUNNY ✧ OUTFIT

[attr="class","brenpost"]Despite the gruff way she eyed him, she leaned in to catch his remark and quickly fired back, “Why are you such a brat?”

Brendon couldn’t help but smile, finding a strange humor in her ferocious demeanor. It was such a strange sight to see someone so fierce yet so animated, like a cat in a Halloween pose, fur bristling in every direction. It was like she just permanently walked around with that intensity at all times.

However, his amusement vanished abruptly when the classroom door opened and August, his mother, entered. Brendon stiffened instantly, his jaw clenching at the sight of her. Why did she always do this to him? A wave of raw rage surged through him, disgust and resentment churning bitterly. Why couldn’t she just leave him alone?

August, graceful yet uncomfortably thin, had long brown hair that matched the color her son’s, but her eyes were a baby blue. She greeted Mr. Robinson first before approaching Brendon’s desk to set down a bottle of orange juice and some packaged sweets.

“Brendon, sweetie, are you really okay with sitting here in detention?” August sighed, a familiar pout gracing her features. Her gaze fell on Kseniyev, who momentarily stunned with her rough appearance. Her initial shock gave way to an almost sympathetic look, and she moved to place a small bottle of chocolate milk and a packaged brownie atop her desk. Such a small and simple act seemed to bring a smile to her features, as though it gave meaning to her life and existence.

“Mom, will you stop?” Brendon exploded, seeing red. A fury and rage nearly obliterated everything else. “Get out.”

August turned to him with a familiar, meek frown—an expression he was utterly tired of. Tired of her, by her constant presence, her never leaving him alone.

“Get out!” He snapped through gritted teeth. She listened. She always did. But it was always too late, only after bothering him, humiliating him, being a constant thorn in his side, digging, digging, digging.

DETENTION

AUTUMN ✧ LATE AFTERNOON ✧ SUNNY ✧ OUTFIT

[attr="class","brenpost"]The Senior beside him quietly snickered, but Brendon was too blinded by his fury to even notice. This was the last thing he wanted. Why had she followed him to school this year? Why couldn’t he get away from her?!

It was Mr. Robinson’s voice that snapped him out of the spell. “I understand having your mother around might be uncomfortable, especially in front of your peers, but that doesn’t excuse the way you spoke to her.”

Brendon shot a glare at Mr. Robinson, but the seething anger remained boiling just beneath the surface. “What do you know?” He retorted, voice raised.

“Brendon—”

He abruptly stood, slinging his bookbag over one shoulder and snatching his book from the desk.

“What do any of you know?” He seethed, his narrowed gaze briefly moving from Mr. Robinson to the only other student in the room before he stormed out of detention, leaving his phone behind in the confiscated box without a second thought as Mr. Robinson called after him.