24/7 Detention

New update: Hallo, folks :D So, if you haven't already been aware, this story is need to be under severe construction because of the way it's been written. Not for errors as such, because I never proofread, but because I gave it to my American friend to edit to "Americanify" it...but it's not me, ya know? So, when I'm not busy, I am going to start "Holly-fying" it :D Hold tight, because the main character is Scottish, but the only way you can tell is that she calls her mum "Mum"...so yeah :D


Hey guys! Yet another new story that I had up my sleeve!! Please note that if any of my stories are similar to any other person's on this website, please know I never meant to plagiariaze, if I am plagiarizing. 

COPYRIGHT STATEMENT:

Any copying of ANY part of this story and masquerading it as your own story or doing anything of the sort is against the law and I am within the right to do whatever necessary to make sure you pay for the damages.  ©

Picture of Avery ---------------------------------------------------> 

Chapter 1:

I carefully tucked my hair into a high bun and applied a light layer of makeup, my purse tucked under my arm. I was about to begin my job as a Creative Writing teacher for juvenile delinquents. I hoped I looked professional enough.

My hands trembled as I walked to the headmaster’s office. I could feel hungry eyes on me as I strode forward in my knee-length black pencil skirt and white button-down blouse, my black heels clicking against the floor.

I vaguely recalled the day I learned that Thurman’s School for the Misbehaved needed a high-school graduate student to teach Creative Writing for the guys; freshman, sophomore, junior, and senior. Technically, I should have been a senior, but I graduated early.

Girls were separated from the boys to avoid any contact with each other. They stayed in a separate building.

Was it even legal? I didn’t really care. Since I wasn’t allowed to go to college so early, and I needed money since my parents died, so why not take the job?

I was accepted immediately and now was heading down to hand the headmaster a copy of my resume. He’d already seen it, but wanted an extra copy for the Board of Education. Not that they would fire me if I wasn’t good enough...I think...

I hoped I could command enough authority to make the kids listen, besides being younger than most of the seniors. And it was a school for delinquents. Oh my god, I'm an idiot.

I quickly dropped off the resume and received and “Welcome,” for which I replied with, “thank you,” and left. I had been given a tour the day before, Sunday, and was ready (not) to begin my teaching career. My first period was teaching the seniors.

I took a deep breath and opened the door to the, my, classroom and stopped, my breath catching in my throat.

Two boys were rolling on the floor, beating the crap out of each other. They were surrounded by the rest of the class, all egging them on and cheering. My eyes widened with fear.

Now I’m not normally a scared little girl, but facing grown boys fighting the crud out of each other was a different story. What was I supposed to do? How was I supposed to stop it? Nobody had noticed me yet. But I hated it when people fought with each other. It made me sad...and angry.

I drew myself to my full height of 5’5” and put on the fiercest glare I could muster.

“Stop it!” I commanded. Nobody looked at me. There was blood on the floor and broken desks everywhere.

“Get him, Lee!” one screamed.

“Go Justin!” another yelled.

“Excuse me!” I said, a bit louder. I stepped up behind one of the boys and tapped his thick shoulder. He was at least five inches taller than me. He glared at me and pushed me in the stomach, causing me to fall over and crash onto my leg.

“Kick his face!” One of the boys was chestnut haired and grey eyed; he punched the other blonde-hair-blue eyed guy, causing him to bang against the desk.