O1 I Met Him In Detention

"I MET HIM IN DETENTION"

"Miss Moore, hand it over."

My thumb continued to scroll through the latest comments on the video I uploaded last week. Cherry, my bestie for life, filmed me singing the newest song I wrote. I danced around the local laundromat, wearing my sister's sparkly purple prom dress, lip-synching to the song I wrote about Daniel McGiffens.

McGiffens. I couldn't believe I ever thought about marrying someone with a last name that sounded like a rejected McDonald's sandwich.

Two months of my life was wasted, but I got a kickass song of it.

"Miss Moore, I'm only going to ask you one more time."

"Faye!" Cherry hissed, from behind me. "It's the last day of school, but she will give you detention."

"Oh. My. God." I whipped around to face Cherry, shoving my phone in her face. "Please tell me I'm not seeing things."

Before I could get confirmation about the comment I just read under my video, the phone was snatched from my hands. I jumped from my seat, ready to slap whoever thought they had the right to touch my things.

But, of course, it was Mrs. Payne. Her beady eyes narrowed at me from behind her glasses. She had a lipstick stain on her front tooth, which I saw because she had a smug grin on her face.

"What is your problem? School's done!" I shouted, fist balled at my side.

Cherry touched my arm, probably to remind me that I couldn't hit a teacher.

"Check the clock, young lady. Until that bell rings, you're mine." She strutted back to her desk where she locked my phone away in a drawer.

Cherry had a vice grip on my wrist now. She knew me too well, because I was two seconds from yanking that old hags wig off.

"Faye!" My friend pleaded with me. Her dark eyes begged me to sit back down. For her sake, I did.

"You can get your phone back after detention," Mrs. Payne informed me before resuming her pointless lecture.

We were minutes away from summer and she was giving out detention slips? What type of sick individual would do that? Someone with last name Payne, apparently.

By the time the bell rang, I calmed down a bit. So, with my most apologetic, puppy dog eyes, I walked up to Mrs. Payne's desk. She didn't bother looking up as she thumbed through a stack of papers, no doubt looking for my mom's work number. I really didn't need her bothering the beast at work.

"Miss Moore, detention is being served in room B15," she told me. "If you're late. That's another thirty minutes."

"Mrs. Payne, I'm so sorry for my outburst." The words flowed easily. Which made sense with how often I said them.

"I'm sure you are." Her beady eyes glanced up at me. "I trust you can find your way to the detention room? Or do you need an escort?"

Biting back another sassy remark, I turned on my heel and stormed into the hallway. I nearly ran down Cherry who had waited for me. Her signature pink and red braids were piled in a bun on top her head looking like my favorite ice cream.

"I've warned you about your temper, Faye." Her voice was low and soothing. She was the only who got away with criticizing me because her delivery was never accusatory. They were more like gentle reminders.

"I don't have a temper. I have annoying adults in my life who think they can control me like a puppet."

Students rushed around, cleaning out their lockers and hugging each other goodbye as I marched across the quad to building B.

"Do you want me to wait for you?" Cherry asked.

"Nah, I'm going to the spot after." I needed a few hours before dealing with my mom.

She took my hand, squeezing it. I knew what was coming and commanded my eyes not to roll. "Breathe in," she instructed, taking in a lung full of air. I followed suit. "Breath out all the gross negativity of the half hour."

Together, we released a long breath. I still felt like punching something, but Cherry seemed content and that was most important.

"Now, off to detention my little delinquent."

I nodded and continued across the quad. Before I got to far, I faced her. "Oh, read the comments on the video! I need to know if the one from Bea Lopez is legit."

Her eyes doubled in size. "Bea Lopez? The Bea Lopez."

"Check it out for me, please?"

I didn't have to ask twice, her phone was already out.

When I made it to the detention room, I was the only one there along with Mr. Johnston, the P.E. teacher. After I signed in, I took a seat in the back corner and pulled out my beat up notebook.

The mint green cover was decorated in stickers and song lyrics. Some were mine, some were from my favorite singers. I opened the notebook to one of the last pages where I'd been toying around with a new song. Another one about McGiffens because the break up was so fresh in my mind.

Last Monday I was ready to pick out flower arrangements. Then, on Thursday, he dumped me. Said it wasn't going to work. That I was too intense and living in a fantasy. What did that even mean?

Cherry said he couldn't handle how passionate and creative I was. But she always tried to put a sugary spin on things. The sad truth was, that wasn't the first time someone had described me as intense.

It seemed to be the number one reason I couldn't keep a boyfriend.

The classroom phone rang, snapping me back to detention. Mr. Johnston picked up then informed me that it was my mom.

She couldn't be serious.

Reluctantly, I pulled myself out of the chair and stalked over to take the phone.

All I did was breathe and she started yelling. "Detention on the last day of school? Only you can pull something like that off!"

"What can I say? I'm talented."

"That's good you find yourself so funny, because for the next month that's all you'll be in contact with."

My jaw dropped at that. "A month? You can't be serious."

She scoffed. "You're about to see how serious I can be."

"Mom! You can't ground me for a month."

"Give me one good reason why I can't."

I could think of a dozen reasons. None of them were particularly any good. Just then, the door opened and in walked the last person I ever thought would have detention.

Peter Conway.

At first glance, you'd think Peter was a normal kid. With his Fall Out Boy shirt and ripped jeans. But if you've shared the same classes with him since second grade, you'd know how square he really was.

I mean, president of the recycling club. The first to volunteer for any school activity. He hands out holiday cards to all the teachers. Reminds them that they gave homework the night before. Gets A's on every test. Tutors kids after school.

He hasn't been to a single party or gotten caught making out in the hallways. I couldn't even imagine what he could've done to land himself in detention.

"Excuse me, sorry to interrupt."

Why was he being so formal? Mr. Johnston was half asleep and I was still getting an earful from my mom. No one was paying him any attention. He could learn to relax a little.

"I'm just going around campus trying to get volunteers for the day camp."

That actually made so much more sense than him getting detention. He could set the school on fire and teachers would praise him.

His blue, nearly gray, eyes landed on me. Instinctively, I looked behind me. Because, no way did he think I wanted to spend my summer babysitting.

Unfortunately, the only person behind me was a poster of Martin Luther King, Jr.

Suddenly, realizing I was on the phone. Mr. Perfect, looked anything but perfect as he apologized and began backing away.

"Who is that?" My mom demanded. "It better not be Daniel!"

"Gross, Mom, it's just..." I caught myself before I insulted Peter any further. Because I just thought of my "one good reason".

I jogged over to Peter and tugged him back into the room by Pete Wentz's head. My knuckles brushed against his solid chest. Which surprised me. I'd never had guessed he'd be fit. "It's Peter Conway, you remember him right?"

At this, Peter looked utterly confused. His light brows rose, getting lost in his sun-bleached blond curls.

"We're just going over our daycare duties." I tried to communicate with him through my eyes, but I think that only worked with Cherry because he just seemed worried.

"Day camp," he said slowly. He used his pen to try and remove my grip from his shirt, glancing at Mr. Johnston for help. He was fully asleep now.

"Day camp!" I said to my mom over the phone. "We're just discussing the schedule for...piano lessons."

"We don't--"

I clamped my hand over his mouth, glaring at him.

"You're teaching piano?" The doubt in her voice would've pissed me off, but I was trying to get ungrounded so I shut up.

"Yes, I am. Right, Peter?" I removed my hand from his mouth and held the phone out to him. He looked down at my hand that still had a handful of his shirt and now, a pen.

When his eyes came back up to me, he sighed and took the phone. "Hello, Mrs. Moore."

I couldn't hear my mom over the receiver so I assumed she stopped yelling. Peter said "yes, ma'am" and "of course" for a solid three minutes before handing the phone back to me.

"He sounds like a nice boy." I took note of how light and airy she sounded after a few minutes with Peter. What type of sorcery was that? "Way better than that Daniel."

I groaned, rolling my eyes. "Yes, I know, Daniel was a bad idea. You don't have to keep reminding me."

Peter again tried to wiggle out of my grip. Since he served his purpose, I let him go. But he didn't leave.

"So, can I go now and serve my detention in peace?"

"I suppose. We'll continue this conversation at home."

I hung up the phone, satisfied with how that went. I turned to Peter Conway to thank him for his help. What I got was him and his clipboard.

My gaze shifted from the empty sign-up sheet to his slate eyes. "I know lying might be a foreign concept to you, but that's what we were doing with my mom just now. Lying."

"I don't lie," he insisted. "Since I just told your mother that you'll be spending five days a week with me this month, I need it in writing."

"Well, there's a first time for everything." I went to sit down, but he blocked my path.

Peter Conway wasn't super tall. Maybe 5'10. But he still slightly towarded over me by four inches. I had to tilt my head back to narrow my eyes at him. Now, I was looking at Mr.Johnston for help. He was drooling.

"I'm not signing anything."

"Then I'll tell your mom the truth."

"Good luck calling her back without her number."

His brows furrowed as he looked down at me. "You know we live on the same street, right?"

That kinda knocked the bravado out of me. "Since when?"

"Since April."

April? That's when I stared dating Daniel. The world could've been overrun with dragons and I wouldn't have noticed anything but him and his abs. So, I could've easily missed the school biggest nerd moving in down the street.

"What time does your family have dinner? I wouldn't want to interrupt." There was a very uncharacteristic smirk on his full lips that was decidedly hot. Or it would've been if he wasn't threatening me.

"If you step foot on my property I'll--"

"If you don't want to volunteer," he cut in. "Maybe I'll keep quiet for a favor."

"What kind of favor?" I asked cautiously. They say you always gotta watch out for the quiet ones.

For the first time since he walked through that door, his usual air of confidence and charm faded. He looked down at his clipboard and pen, glanced over at a still sleeping Mr. Johnston, and cleared his throat.

No words followed.

He scratched his temple, tugged his shirt, then shook his head. "Nevermind. Sign the volunteer sheet."

He pushed that damn clipboard back in my face.

"What's the favor?" I asked, crossing my arms defiantly.

His shoulders slumped as he let out the world's heaviest sigh. Then with lightening speed, he said, "My brothers keep bugging me about almost being a senior and never having a girlfriend. Summer is the worst because they're all going on dates while I do volunteer work. So, if you pretended to be my girlfriend, I can get them off my back and enjoy my summer in peace."

It took my mind a minute to decipher that string of words. Peter's face was bright red, as he ran his hand through his curls. I'd honestly never seen him like this. Mr. Perfect wasn't being so perfect now. He almost seemed human. Still...

"Sounds like prostitution to me."

"We wouldn't have to do anything," he assured me. As if I'd let him do anything to me. "You'll be my girlfriend only by word of mouth. When my brother's tease me about being single I can say 'I have a girlfriend, actually. So eff off'."

I snorted. "Eff off?"

"Will you do it or not?"

"If I agree, do I still have babysit?"

The smallest flicker of hope glimmered in his eyes. "Not unless you want to."

A few hours where my mom would be off my case, thinking I was volunteering with Peter Conway and all I had to do was let him tell his brothers I was his girlfriend.

It seemed like a fair trade. An exchange of alibis for the summer. I could spend my time writing new music and possibly meeting Bea Lopez, if that comment was real.

Not seeing any downside to this, I nodded. "Alright. I'm your girlfriend now, I guess."

His cheeks reddened again at my declaration. "Okay. Uh. Thanks."

The phone rang again. This time it was Mr. Johnston's personal cellphone. He was awake now and told me to sit and for Peter to get lost. We both did as he said.

When I got to my desk. I had a small spark of an idea in my head for a new song. One not about stupid Daniel McGiffens. I grabbed my bag off the floor and reached for my notebook. Except, in between all the graded homework and empty chip bags, there was nothing.

Then I remembered, I already pulled out my notebook. But it wasn't on my desk.

No.

No. No. No.

I dumped my entire bag on my desk, sure I overlooked it. Mr. Johnston glared at me because of the noise. But I didn't care. I got down on all fours, crawling and shifting through my mess. Checking under desks and slowly, fully, panicking.

Where the hell were my songs?

***********

Thanks for checking out the first chapter of my book! I'm hoping to update a few times a week so add this to your library to get notified.

Anyways, what did you think? I wrote this at 3am so there might be a ton of errors but that's a problem for another day.

How do you like Faye, Cherry, and Peter so far?

Please comment below and vote 💖