BENJAMIN, DREW AND I KNEW that there would be a punishment when we set out to do this.

One didn't just hijack school facilities and equipment and emerge unscathed. We went into this willing to accept the consequences — which, in four years of being the model student, I knew was a big personal sacrifice on Benjamin's part. Drew is more carefree, and I believe that anything is worth shaking off the shackles of the Monarchy.

Though currently, I am securely in their grasp. Drew and I walk side by side, occasionally exchanging rueful smirks. Reece and Derek walk behind us, silently, like prison wardens escorting us. The four of us don't walk through the auditorium, seeing as it's still too crowded and frantic.

Reece leads us out the way Drew and I snuck in, which makes me think we've been watched. When we reach Principal Fisher's office, I almost sigh with relief to see that Benjamin isn't there. He must have played off his academic crisis as an unrelated development to Mr. Weston.

However, Brittany is here, which is bad enough to stamp out any silver linings.

This is a very different Brittany to the one that struts the school corridors with a confident manner and superior mind set. She is slumped in her chair, holding a tissue in her trembling hands. Diluted eyeliner runs down her face like raindrops. She looks like she has been crying, very much.

But looks can be deceiving and I know Brittany too well to believe that innocent facade she is wearing. A gut-wrenching sob wracks her body and she dabs her eyes, taking deep, dramatic breaths. When the tissue in her hands passes between her face and Principal Fisher, she stares at me knowingly.

No-one is buying this, are they?

Principal Fisher leans back his chair, hands clasped awkwardly on his desk. He gives me a solemn look before gesturing to the two empty seats next to Brittany. Drew and I each take a seat. Drew looks a bit pissed he has to sit next to a blubbering Brittany.

Derek and Reece don't leave the room. Instead, they take their places on each side of Brittany, like her personal, menacing bodyguards.

"We all know why we're here."

Drew and I nod in a meek response. Brittany cries and tries to look a little more pathetic in her seat. I roll my eyes at Drew, who stifles a laugh. Even Derek and Reece look tired of her act.

"Miss Olsen and Mr. Allory, you two were found creating and spreading harmful propaganda against Miss Stanson and her friends. Is this true?"

"Yes, sir," Drew says chipperly. Utterly... proud of the accusatory statement.

"And do you want to say something to Miss Stanson?"

"Yes, in fact, I do," Drew speaks up.

Principal Fisher gives a go-ahead gesture.

"Brittany—"

She perks up at the mention of her name. While her eyeliner is running, she hasn't shed one tear since I walked in.

"—your eyeliner is a little smudged," Drew finishes.

A laugh threatens to burst through my lips but I bite my tongue until the pain dampens it. A quick glance beside me reveals that the corner of Derek's lip twitches, and he is concentrating heavily on the wall. Reece coughs and hacks a bit, trying to surreptitiously muffle the sounds in the sleeve of his Letterman jacket, the remnants of what would have been a fit of laughter fading away.

Brittany looks murderous for a split second, eyes glinting with an icy menace, but then remembers she is supposed to be upset and dissolves into a pile of tears again.

"Alright, Mr. Allory. Since you willingly and knowingly spread rumours about Miss Stanson, which you have admitted to doing, you and Miss Olsen will be serving a punishment."

I don't know how he can refer to our message as a rumour when there was photographic and videographic evidence of the Monarchy bullying other students. But it's clear someone has to take the blame for the disruption, and if Brittany is too hard to pin down, I guess it'll be Drew and I.

I stifle my protests. Both of us nod dutifully. "To the other matter at hand, you portrayed three other students in your video. Did they have any part to play in the making of that video?"

I quickly shake my head, leaping to exonerate Leah, Delaney and Benjamin. "No, they did not. We pressured them to get their pictures taken. They did not want to do this." Drew takes a breath, but goes along completely with my lie.

"Alright then," Principal Fisher says, sending a suspicious glance my way. "You and Mr. Allory will receive five days of detention and ten hours of school service."

That is... actually better than I expected. In my utter inexperience with transgressing school rules, I prepared myself for expulsion or something. Telling by Drew's happily surprised look, he feels the same way. Brittany however, isn't satisfied with our penance. She lets out another few whimpering sobs and Principal Fisher gives her the slightest of eye rolls.

"Is there a problem, Miss Stanson?"

"No... It's just that, what they did was so mean and I d-don't know how Madison will cope with it. She's been getting pretty badly bullied online."

I nearly leap out of my chair. How dare she? Every single person in this room knows what utter bullshit that is; Madison is the bully. It's a threat in disguise. Brittany is telling us what is going to happen.

Well, she can take her fake tears and runny eyeliner and shove them up her fucking ass. We aren't backing down, and we sure as hell aren't going to be forced back into submission.

"Then I suggest you talk to Miss Murdoch and see her view about this before making a complaint," Principal Fisher sighs.

Brittany looks like she's been hit on the face with a plank of wood — too shocked to feel the pain. Then the good ol' dictator we all know and love to hate is back, any trace of tears gone once realising how useless they were. Principal Fisher raises an eyebrow, having a backbone for once. Maybe the video influenced him as well. Or maybe he's just tired of letting the Dormers' money and the Stansons' status push him around. "You may go now."

Brittany looks like she wants to complain a little more, maybe recite an oath about how she will single-handedly ruin all of our lives but Reece places his hand on her shoulder, stopping whatever shit that she was going to say. She gets up and leaves the room, with much huffing and clacking of her heels. Reece follows, murmuring something to Derek and scratching the back of his head.

Our principal says something more, just as Drew and I are leaving.

"It was a good video, by the way."

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

Three days into our punishment, and I'm telling myself that the worst is over.

I hid the detention slips from Mom, which was served in all my lunch periods. Every day Drew and I spend two hours after school lets out completing our school service. I told Mom instead that I had volunteered after school to help set up the stalls for Spirit Week, and the Homecoming Fair on Friday.

She was excited that I finally decided to get involved in a school activity that might make it easy for me to get to know more people, and I don't feel like informing her that I am — in some ways — already very involved in social school affairs.

Drew and I were drafted to serve our hours cleaning the courtyard, which was an arduously sore task. It involved scraping the gum off the flagpole and under the picnic tables, mowing the green, and picking up all the cigarette butts, food cartons and rubbish. The worst is over. We're halfway done, just needing to clean and polish all the tables stationed around the court tomorrow afternoon.

The other part of our punishment is, of course, detention.

I'm unsure how detention is supposed to punish. Maybe for someone talkative and hyperactive — cough, Terrence — the prospect of sitting still, silent, in a classroom during lunch is truly loathsome. But I don't mind it so much. It's tranquil, calm, almost pleasant if I ignore the gnawing hunger in my stomach.

I pull out my AP Biology textbook and start reading ahead, though I could probably get away with doing worse — Drew is playing on his Nintendo console discreetly, holding it under the table ledge — because the teacher scheduled to supervise this week is my apathetic Music teacher, who does nothing other than stare at his laptop screen.

Yeah, he's definitely watching porn on there.

I do my best to ignore the bits of paper hitting my cheek. I gather Terrence found out about my punishment from either Brittany, Reece or Derek, because he's conveniently been in detention every day so far, trying to get my attention. I ignored him these earlier days though — which is why I find myself being target practise for little bits of paper.

Why can't he be like Derek? He's here, too, hiding his face under the hood of his jacket. Something tells me he has earbuds buried in his ears, tuning out the world. As a result, he's wonderfully non-annoying.

According to Drew, Derek landed himself here for the damages he did to the sound booth door, and for repeatedly parking his motorcycle in a teacher's spot. After he refused to move it and cussed out the teacher to whom the park did belong, they gave him detention, too.

When he realises I am not going to give, Terrence just pushes his chair out, and starts approaching me. The teacher doesn't notice, though Terrence doesn't care if he notices. I tense my hands around my pen, trying to control the twitching desire to pick up a chair and throw it at Terrence.

I settle for the most blatant glare I can muster and shoot it like a paper airplane towards Terrence. He finally makes his way from his desk to mine and leans over way too close to me.

He smiles lopsidedly. "How have you been?"

"Are you fucking joking?" I hiss back, "I spent two hours yesterday scraping old, stale gum off the underside of all the benches in the courtyard — thanks to you and your friends. So, yeah, I'm flipping fantastic."

Terrence chuckles and barrels right over my frustration. "Are you coming to the Homecoming Fair?"

I twist my head to him, giving his face a dubious scan. At length, I say, "Maybe."

"Which means yes."

I sigh. I am going, for several reasons. Firstly, because Mom wants to finally mingle with the town and meet the rest. She's met about six co-workers in her bakery but is eager to make new friends. For a long time I was irritated at Mom for severing our lifelong connections by moving us to Carsonville, but it doesn't change the fact that she's also more isolated than she has been in a long time — by her own hand, or not — probably since before Dad died.

Secondly, the Homecoming Fair has become part of the Revolution.

Not overtly, because the Monarchy will still be on guard so soon after we pulled that stunt at the assembly. As a result, they are bound to show up, like with the carwash. They never pass on an opportunity to terrorise the school, or remind the student who's in charge.

So we have to be there. In case anything goes wrong.

On Thursday afternoon, the day before the Fair, Delaney, Benjamin and Leah come to visit Drew and I while we slave away on the concrete. The punishment is nearly over, I tell myself, while mild sunlight beats down on my neck. At least it's not summer anymore. This would be hell in hot weather.

Delaney will not be compelled to do manual labour no matter what, so she perches on the picnic table we just cleaned, bobbing her knee up and down. Benjamin and Leah wanted to help us clean the picnic tables, but we were only given two sets of equipment. They sit on the edge of the grass, morally supporting us.

Delaney says, "Good job with the video. It looks like you scared the Monarchy into hiding since then. I heard that Madison even stopped checking her social media accounts so much. Not threatening— ahem, messaging anyone anymore. No more liking, commenting, tweeting."

"Don't pretend that they aren't going to come back stronger. They are." Leah's voice trembles slightly, most likely thinking of Faune. "I just want to know what to expect."