Detention ➳ Larry

Chapter five

(Louis's POV)

Thoughts of Alex keep buzzing through my head, spreading like an infectious disease. I think about the way his eyes sparkle in the light. I think about the way he spikes his brown hair with gel.
I loved the way he said my name, and how his lips felt against mine. I loved the way he used to call me to say goodnight'. I loved the way he used to wrap his arms around me.

Harry walks into the detention room with a gloomy look plastered on his face, breaking me out of my train of thought. He looks depressed. He has giant bags under his eyes, indicating he hasn't been getting very much sleep lately. His skin is pale and his curls have turned into careless waves.

His eyes lock with mine and he gives me a faint smile. "Hey, Louis."

"Oh, Hi Harry. Why are you so late?" I ask.

"I was in the guidance counselor's office," he explains.

I nod and continue to work on my musical duties as Harry sits down in the desk in the next row across from me. I'm so overwhelmed. How does the drama club expect me to finish this all my myself?

"Where's Mr. Oliver?" Harry asks, causing my head to poke up. He gestures towards Mr. Oliver's empty desk at the front of the detention room.

I shrug. "Beats me. He hasn't been here yet."

"Good," he snorts.

I chuckle quietly to myself as he pulls out a binder from his bag and sets it on the desk, then opens it up to a random worksheet. He stares at the paper and taps the pen against the desk as he is in deep thought.

I lean over and look at the problem he's focusing on. "The answer is negative three," I say as my brain calculates the equation.

He looks up from his paper and frowns. "Thanks but I don't need your help," he says harshly.
"Really? Seems like it," I say as my eyes skim over his past answers to all of the questions, all of them being incorrect.

He slams his pen against the desk angrily, and his soft green eyes darken so they seem cold and angry. "I'm not stupid, okay?" he yells.

"I never said that you were," I say so quiet that it comes out of my mouth like a faint whisper. I sink down in my seat and bite my lip, feeling tears prick at my eyes.

Harry sighs and shakes his head. "No, don't be upset. I'm sorry . . . It's just . . . it's just that everyone thinks I'm an idiot."

I shrug. "I don't think you're an idiot; different people just learn in different ways."

"Oh, uh . . . Thanks," he replies.

"Sure. And if you ever need help, you can ask me, okay?"

He nods and thanks me, then continues with his homework. I return to planning the musical in my notebook. The clock ticks in the corner of the classroom and I keep glancing up at it, anxious to get out of this Hell hole.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" Harry suddenly asks.

I shrug. "Beats me."

He laughs slightly and returns to his homework, so I return my attention to my own work, and start thinking of ideas for the musical. I still need to find a roll for Romeo.

This school is so talentless.

I can hear Harry humming to himself while he works on his homework, but I ignore it and continue to brainstorm.

So the total costs for the props and supplies is way over my budget, which means I'll have to cut some things out.

My eyes skim over the list of items I have written down on my notepad, and I realize that I literally need everything on here. I'm screwed. I throw my head back and let out a stressful moan and dig my nails into my palm, creating white half-moons in my skin.