Why is it that when we're eagerly waiting for something, time drags on like a snail, but when we try to procrastinate, it's over in the blink of an eye? How is it that I just parked the van in the school lot, and now I'm standing in front of this stupid auditorium where I'm going to waste my entire youth? This can't be happening. I'm going to file a complaint with the school board. The principal has no right to make me spend every day here until summer.

I push the door handle. The door creaks mercilessly, showing that it has long forgotten the last time it was used. As I enter, all eyes in the auditorium turn towards me, so I quickly take the nearest seat and focus on the principal, who is standing on a dirty, cluttered stage. I try not to think about the dust floating in the air that smells of old wood or the fact that the dim light might make me want to sleep.

Mr. Hudson taps his phone screen, paying no attention to the gathered students, so I start scanning the room. I see Allison Hartley down below. Rumor has it she was caught smoking weed behind the school dumpster. I see the back of Eddie Irons' head, who probably sold her the weed. I also spot Molly Evans, known for her habitual lateness. Two rows behind her sits Ivo Jablonsky. Honestly? I have no idea what he's doing here. To his right is Jeremy Clark, the leader of the misfits, scratching his neck. We might have something in common since we're both categorized as school weirdos, but no one wants to talk to him since a video surfaced online of him tormenting little birds. Sparrows, that is.

Three girls, including me, and three boys. Six people. Can six people really renovate this damn auditorium in two months? I really don't want to be here during the summer so Jennifer can fulfill her mother's expectations and play some Juliet or Lady Macbeth.

The door creaks again. When I look up, I catch Aiden Woods' gaze. The guy slides his eyes over my face and then turns away, completely ignoring me. I can't stand him. He's the type who couldn't care less, rides a motorcycle to school, doesn't bother with relationships, doesn't talk to anyone, and probably doesn't even listen in class.

I mean... If you compare him to me, it's almost a match, except for the motorcycle, of course. But looking at Aiden's posture, it seems like he's loudly shouting with his whole being: NO. I'm not interested. I don't want to talk to you. We won't be friends. Don't come near me. Don't look my way. Don't even think about bothering me.

He'd be perfect for the role of Patrick Verona in 10 Things I Hate About You if someone decided to remake the film.

"Alright, since everyone's here, let me explain how I see it," Mr. Hudson's voice fills the auditorium, even though he's not using a microphone. At moments like this, I'm amazed by the laws of physics. If I'd paid more attention in school, I'd know how it's even possible. The principal scans the scattered students and nods to his own thoughts. "So... You'll split into pairs, meaning two pairs and one trio. One pair will handle the wardrobe, another the backstage, and the rest will take care of the auditorium. Any volunteers?"

Of course, Allison and Eddie immediately look at each other. I'd bet my right arm they'll claim the backstage, where they can smoke weed to their hearts' content. I envy them. I'd lock myself in there and stay until Christmas.

But the principal shakes his head. Apparently, he had the same thought as I did, but that doesn't make him a genius.

"Ms. Hartley will handle the wardrobe with Ms. Evans, and Mr. Clark and Mr. Irons will sort out the backstage. There's a lot of heavy stuff that needs to be thrown out, so I think you two will be perfect for that. The rest will take care of the auditorium. I'll check on you every day, so no funny business. Understood? Start by cleaning up the mess today; tomorrow they'll deliver paint, tools, cleaning supplies, and so on."

What nonsense. I look up at the dark, battered wood on the ceiling and pray to whoever is up there. Two months. Five days times eight weeks, that's forty days of agony. Plus, in the company of Aiden Woods. I might as well jump off the roof because only breaking all my limbs will save me from what's coming. Do I really have to suffer this much for stepping out of line with a teacher?

The principal descends the wooden steps from the stage and, with a smile on his face, heads to the exit. All the students watch him go, and Jeremy Clark even flips him off behind his back.

"This is so messed up," Allison Hartley groans as the principal disappears through the doors. She's pretty enough that I don't think swearing or smoking weed behind dumpsters suits her. But that's just my opinion, which no one really cares about – not even my dad.

Jeremy Clark looks at her with a slightly vacant expression. He sighs, grabs his backpack, and stands up.

"I don't care. I'm not going to be the fool doing the worst job. I'm out of here."

"If you don't serve your detention, they'll suspend you," warns Ivo. His funny accent has been a subject of mockery for as long as I can remember, so I have a subconscious fondness for him. "If I remember correctly, you're in your senior year, so suspension isn't exactly something your parents will be happy about."

Russia: 1 America: 0.

Jeremy clenches his jaw and slumps back into his seat. Still, Allison's expression remains far from cheerful. Woods looks like he couldn't care less about what's happening around him, and Irons is watching the scene with amusement. He's probably high again.

"Listen up." Molly Evans stands up and looks at each of us in turn. "This isn't fair. The principal shouldn't punish us all with this. We should have some choice, some alternative. It's unfair that for a few tardies, I have to clean mirrors in the wardrobe every day until the end of the year... At least our high school is public because parents of kids from private schools would already be preparing a lawsuit for this kind of thing."

Jeremy Clark pulls out his phone and looks like he's just won a million dollars in the lottery of life.

"Let's post about this on Facebook. That the principal is forcing us into slave labor. Everyone will support us, Hudson will get fired, and this damn punishment will be forgotten."

"That's a good idea!" Molly almost wets herself with excitement.

"Yeah! Make a video of us having to lift heavy stuff. But make us look super pathetic." Well, Allison is clearly beyond excitement. She's so thrilled she's almost shaking.

"Seriously? Am I the only one who thinks this idea is idiotic?" I speak up. Addressing juniors and seniors.

They look at me. Aiden Woods seems to be falling asleep, so I don't count him as mentally present at this meeting.

"Ideotic? Do you have a better idea that would keep us from having to come here every day?" Eddie asks. It's truly amazing that he can say something sensible in this state.

"No," I admit.

"Listen, weirdo Parker." Allison Hartley gives me a look I know all too well. Will this ever change? "Maybe you don't have anything to do after school because your boring, bland life as a weirdo is uneventful, but that doesn't mean I have the same. This detention conflicts with my track practice, and that's more important to me than some theater stuff, got it?"

"I had to cancel all my scheduled visits to the salon, which are also very important to me," Molly chimes in.

"In short: we don't want to be here, so we'll do everything to avoid it. Clark, do you have a good camera on your phone?"

Jeremy has never been happier in his life. The support of two girls does wonders for his ego, like growth hormone injections for our principal's muscles.

"I also think it's stupid," Ivo says. "We'll get ourselves into bigger trouble."

Thanks, man.

"Maybe we should vote?" I suggest, though it's clear in an instant that it's pointless. Ivo and I against everyone else.

Molly looks at us with pity, then heads down to the stage. Allison rushes after her, and Clark, with his phone in hand, stands by the steps. The girls start moving a huge, dusty piano. Jeremy comments on everything in real-time. A three-act drama, it's going to be a disaster.

➿➿➿

KATHERINE GREEN SHARED A VIDEO FROM BRITTANY FERGUSON
43 minutes ago
Scandal!!! It's the 21st century, and it looks like slavery! Stop school violence!
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4.7K Views
2,415 Likes 2,975 Comments
👍🏻Like 💬Comment ⤴️Share

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Newest ⬇️
Jack Boyle: I think it's a good idea, at least the kids will learn some respect.
👍🏻179❤️78
Evelynn Doscoe: I support it!!! Hours spent idly in detention are useless!!!
👍🏻127❤️113
Anne McCallister: That principal should run for president!
👍🏻76❤️15😂190
Andrew Andrew: No way, there are proper teams for renovations, not our kids
👍🏻55😡9
Lewis Carl Stephenson: As the head of the parents' council, I believe the punishment does not violate any student rights or school rules and is a very good example of how the teaching staff handles exceptional student disobedience. The parents' council supports the principal's actions and does not intend to file any complaints or objections.
👍🏻213 ❤️438😡160😂35
Eleonora Hartley: Lewis Carl Stephenson, I wonder what you'd say if it were your child who had to stay after school every day and be exposed to danger!!! I won't let this go!!!
👍🏻13😂77
Jason Clark: Eleonora Hartley, Priv
Gregory Allen: I'm outraged
👍🏻1😂9
Melody Stafford: Wonderful initiative. I fully support such ideas
👍🏻58❤️74
Archie Graham: Can I volunteer?
👍🏻570❤️135😂88
SHOW OLDER COMMENTS ⬇️

➿➿➿

"Clark! Evans! Hartley! Irons!"

The principal's booming voice, preceded by the loud slam of the door, echoes through the hall, and no one can tell me it didn't make an impression on this bunch of idiots eager to fight the system. As I've said, Principal Hudson is a walking bundle of muscles with a mustache. About six feet tall of fury who needs only a few seconds to stand in front of Molly, as she's sitting closest to the stage.

For the past hour, we haven't moved from our seats. The four students called by the principal have been discussing their own video animatedly. They were reading comments aloud and couldn't believe that most of the people in Berkeley City didn't think they were suffering any great harm. Ivo kept muttering his Russian curses under his breath, I couldn't wipe the triumph off my face, and Woods? I swear, at one point he started snoring.

"What's wrong with you? Have you all gone mad? For this stunt, the whole seven get an additional two Saturdays of detention. All of you, without exception."

"But, sir! Me and Parker warned them against this!"

Ivo Jablonsky, my hero.

"Then thank your friends for the Saturdays at school and ask them to listen to you next time."

I groan inwardly. This is some nasty joke. A really unfunny one. Although my father didn't kill me yesterday, he surely will today. Saturdays are my household chore days... How am I supposed to tell him I won't help with shopping or clean the bathroom for two weeks?

What's worse, in two weeks is the day of the hospital visit. Mom always looks forward to that first Saturday of the month, and I do too. I can't let her down. I can't let my father down.

I decide to leave the shocked "friends" behind and run after the departing principal.

"Sir," I call after him as he storms down the school hallway. I catch up with him only by the lockers, panting like mad. "About those Saturdays..."

"My decision is final."

Right. That's that. I'm no negotiation expert. But maybe there's still hope?

"I understand. But is there any possibility of rescheduling one of the Saturdays? I mean... it's a family matter, you see..."

The principal adjusts his tie, and his gaze softens a bit, though a small vein still throbs on his forehead.

Let me. Let me, let me.

"Fine. But get back to it now. You have two more hours of detention today, and I expect you to get to work."

➿➿➿

USER @Pinkgirl🌸 IS NOW ONLINE!

8:13 PM
PinkGirl: Dad gave me back my phone. He said he needs to stay in touch with me, or he'll go crazy.

USER @MoodKiller🕷 IS NOW ONLINE!

8:14 PM
MoodKiller: Anything is better than studying.

PinkGirl: Did you see that video going around online today? What do you think of it?

MoodKiller: I saw it. Honestly, I wouldn't give it an Oscar.

PinkGirl: Haha

PinkGirl: I agree.

MoodKiller: Personally, I don't know what to think. The only thing I can say is... enjoy your renovations :-)

PinkGirl: I miss the times when I was anonymous to you. It was funny when you guessed my name every week. Remember how you insisted for a month that I must be Alex Doherty?

MoodKiller: I remember.

PinkGirl: Exactly. You never wanted to play that game...

MoodKiller: Trust me, it's much better this way. If you found out who I am, you wouldn't want to talk to me.

MoodKiller: I'm betting all my savings on that.

PinkGirl: Suit yourself. I'll manage to get it out of you someday.

MoodKiller: Doubt it, sweetheart.

PinkGirl: You weren't supposed to call me that!

MoodKiller: But I like it. Don't take away my only pleasure of the day, please...

PinkGirl: Okay, I see something's up. Please, you can vent to Aunt Sadie. I don't offer good advice, but if you don't have what you like, you like what you have, right?

MoodKiller: Life is crap. As always. Everything we have is meaningless crap without emotions. I hate coming home and finding nothing here. You get it? Zero feelings, zero understanding, zero support. It doesn't make sense. It lacks that spark. You don't even know how much I envy your dad for caring about what's important to you.

PinkGirl: My dad is a walking collection of worst-case scenarios. I don't know if there's anything to envy. Being a cop made him see danger around every corner, and Berkeley City is as dull as dishwater.

MoodKiller: But when you go to him with a problem, he helps you. Appreciate that.

PinkGirl: I do appreciate it.

MoodKiller: Let's say I believe you.

MoodKiller: Logging off. I'll watch two episodes of a show and try to sleep. Maybe it'll work tonight. Goodnight, Sadie.

PinkGirl: Goodnight, stranger.

USER @MoodKiller🕷 IS OFFLINE

USER @PinkGirl🌸 IS OFFLINE