The sound of books hitting the floor was enough to tell me I was done for. Why? Because I had just bumped into the most powerful girl in school, also known as Violet Baudelaire.

The collision had caused me to fall on the floor whereas she hadn't moved in the slightest and I couldn't help the gasp that escaped my lips as she turned and her deadpanned expression stared down at me. She paused for a second, as if wondering if this interaction was even worth her time, before she swished her pin straight, dark hair over her shoulder and walked away. I would say she strutted, only she didn't. Carmelita Spats strutted around the school; Violet Baudelaire didn't need to. Her normal walk was intimidating enough for everyone to clear a path for her wherever she went. Carmelita bullied just about everyone but even she would cower at Violet's feet. That was just how it was when you were the richest, most beautiful girl in school.

I had always avoided the Baudelaires for the most part but it was difficult when you were technically neighbours. They lived four doors down from me in the biggest house on the wealthiest street, and although my family was well off it was nothing compared to the Baudelaire's fortune. My parents hated them. Most of the families on our street hated them. Hence why, from a young age, my brothers and I were all warned to stay away from the Baudelaire children. That didn't stop both Duncan and Quigley having crushes on Violet, though, although they had best keep it a secret.

I quickly gathered my books up and hurried to my English classroom. School had just finished and I had to go to my detention. I didn't want to be late and buy myself an extra one.

When I arrived the classroom was empty, save for my English teacher Mr Olaf, who was sat at his desk sorting through random bits of paper. He barely acknowledged me as I walked in, just raising his pen in my general direction without letting his eyes straying from his work. I took a seat near the back of the classroom, next to the window, because it seemed like a logical choice, and sat in silence. For a minute I sat, staring at the grains in the table in front of me. What do you do in detention? What are you allowed to do? After a moment of contemplation I pulled out some homework I had received that day and started completing it. I figured I might as well be productive if I was stuck here for the next hour.

It was almost peaceful, sitting in silence, a soft breeze coming through the window next to me, until a shrill ringing came out of nowhere. I picked up my pen from where I had flung it in surprise, and Mr Olaf picked up the phone, sighing, "What is it this time?"

I was trying not to eavesdrop, because I wasn't that sort of person, but it was difficult when the only sound in the room was my teacher on the phone. Of course I was only getting half of the conversation but that was enough to tell me that it wasn't a positive one.

Mr Olaf huffed into the receiver, "Outside? Hold on," before getting up and coming around to the window. He peered out for a moment before saying, "Oh there he is." Then he put the phone down, cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, "BAUDELAIRE!" out of the window.

I peeked out to see Klaus Baudelaire, two floors down, by the school car park, just sitting on a bench. He glanced up when his name was called and then slowly got up, as if he had all the time in the world. Mr Olaf went back to his desk, shaking his head. "Why he needs reminding everyday is a mystery to me," he muttered under his breath.

So Klaus would be joining my detention today, and probably the rest of the week. I should've known. He always had a detention. I tried to not let my nerves get the better of me. Why was I even nervous in the first place? Klaus and I had never even interacted and it wasn't like we were about to start today. I focused on my work; I wanted to get this done before I went home and some rich, angsty loser wasn't going to ruin that for me.

A couple homework questions later and the door finally swung open to reveal Klaus Baudelaire himself. I didn't need to look up to know it was him. No one else dressed like they were auditioning to be a death eater. He chucked his bag on a desk and sat at the one next to it. Maybe "sat" wasn't the right word. It was more like he melted into the seat, stretching his arms out across the table in front of him and resting his head on them. He instantly looked like he was sleeping although it looked uncomfortable. What a strange boy, I thought to myself. And he was strange. You would think that a guy like him, living in his expensive house with his expensive family, would be ruling the school alongside his older sister.

Violet Baudelaire was at the centre of a huge social circle and it didn't come as a surprise. She was incredibly intelligent, her porcelain skin and dark hair gave her an extremely striking appearance and, although I'd never spoken to her, I'd heard she was a great conversationalist. Who wouldn't want to be friends with her? But while she was popular, she was also pretty intimidating and I often wondered if that was initially why so many people went to her. They came because they were afraid and stayed because she ended up being an interesting person. I figured it was cool being Violet Baudelaire.

But being Klaus Baudelaire seemed to be something else entirely. First of all, he sat alone. Actually, I wasn't sure if I had ever seen him talking to anyone except his sister. That was something I didn't understand: how come the whole intimidating thing had worked for her and not for him? How come hers had brought popularity and his had brought the polar opposite? It wasn't as if he was bullied (the Baudelaires were untouchable simply for having that surname) but he was always alone. He was just someone people generally avoided, probably because he seemed like the sort of guy to summon demons in his spare time. Lily had once suggested that he was a witch and, upon me telling her a male witch was technically a wizard, she had laughed for days, all the while imagining him as Gandalf. I smiled at the memory. Maybe I would remind her of the ordeal tomorrow and watch her try to contain her laughter every time we passed him in the corridor.

There was nothing outwardly wrong with Klaus Baudelaire; like Lily had said, I was sure he was nice enough (and probably didn't summon demons) once you got to know him. But it seemed like he never gave anyone the time of day (or perhaps it was the other way around?)

That was what made him unlikable. At least to me. He never gave anything a chance. How could one person be so uninterested in every aspect of his life? He didn't care about school, he didn't care enough to make friends, I bet he didn't even have a hobby or a passion he cared about. And I suppose that added to why he was such an intimidating individual. After all, how were you meant to approach or interact with someone who didn't care about anything?

I tore my eyes away, frowning, and focused back on my homework like I'd planned. I finished it, the hour ended, I went home. It was a normal detention. He didn't show me his fangs. Lily would be disappointed.