Felicity eyed her with contempt, "My vinyl player has a problem."
Jazz groaned in delight, "God sure answers prayers!"
"Twelve more minutes young lady and God would be answering my own prayer. B*tch." Felicity glowered and turned to fix her bed before heading out for breakfast.
Jazz made faces at her roommate before she grudgingly got out of bed and set out to get herself ready for detention.
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Jazz approached the door of classroom five. The hallway was lonely, it was Saturday morning and every other student was enjoying breakfast in the Brown House while she had detention.
Jazz felt irritated as she placed her hand on the door knob.
"I hope you brought a book, detention hours feel like years unless you're doing something to wile away time. Here, you can have this one..." A boy whose skin seemed to have barely escaped albinism and had chestnut brown hair and freckled cheeks said, extending a novel to Jazz.
Big square glasses swallowed up half the boy's pale face, Jazz could swear she'd seen this kid around a number of times but she didn't know his name.
Then it clicked. It was the rambling boy who walked up to her on Monday morning during breakfast at the Refectory when the first article was flying around.
But she couldn't remember his name.
Jazz looked at him in question. "Didn't think nerds get detention."
"Didn't think geeks get detention either but who am I kidding?" He retorted like he was reciting scripts.
Jazz bit back her tongue.
"No it's fine, I brought my own book... Voice In The Wind by Francine Rivers, it's my favorite."
The seemingly nerdy boy shot her a nice warm smile, "Goodluck!"
Immediately Jazz twisted the door knob and walked into the classroom, her heart left her body for a few seconds as her eyes jammed Head Mistress May Anderson's own. She was seated on the teacher's chair behind the big desk with the scariest look on her face.
Jazz cussed under her breath.
"You're late." She said, looking at her watch.
"My clock said I was five minutes early."
"Your clock must be broken." Head Mistress May Anderson replied grimly.
Jazz couldn't understand how this lady gave birth to a charming son like Grey, he was her complete contrast.
"Are you always this mean?" Jazz asked.
"Better get cozy, you'll be in here till I'm satisfied. Have fun Miss Brown." Head Mistress May Anderson said and left the classroom.
Jazz heard keys jingle outside the door. Well what was she thinking? Head Mistress May Anderson was sure going to lock her in the room.
Sagging her shoulders, she took a sit by the window. Something was smelling awfully and that's when her eyes fixed on the ziploc bag of rotten sandwich, she gagged.
Quickly changing her sitting position, she ended up on the middle row on a seat whose desk seemed like a visitor's book. There were so many initials, carved on or written out with a marker, pen or pencil, and even chalk.
Was this what students did in detention? Doddle?
It didn't seem like a crime so Jazz took the cue and scribbled her initials on the desk; JB was here. Then she crossed it and wrote something else; Jazz the Journalist.
Nodding in content as she stared at what she wrote, replaying the words in her mind it sounded perfect but her handwriting contorted her brief cloud nine.
Compared to some of the handwritings on the desk, Jazz's writing seemed like she was drawing chicken feet. She groaned and slammed her forehead on the novel she'd placed on the desk. How long till headmistress May came back? She sighed. It was going to be a very long day.
She finally decided to keep her mind on finding out who the maniac on the loose was and where exactly she was going to start with her investigation.
The thing about the color, Purple, was that everyone was a suspect.
Nevertheless, the Brown House would be her official starting point.
Jazz couldn't wait to get out of detention already.
Hours flew by slowly, her irritation grew with the fact she was serving detention for something she hadn't done and her stomach began to growl. She couldn't grab breakfast because she woke up late and Headmistress May hadn't come back yet.
Suddenly, Jazz heard the sound of keys jingling outside the door. She sat up straight immediately, fixing her tie and glasses and poised like she was actually reading her novel.
The door open and Head Mistress May walked in on her platform loafers. "Ah, I see you've been cozy."
Slamming her novel to the rough desk top, Jazz rolled her eyes impatiently, "Can I go now?"
Head Mistress May waved the dark green pamphlet in her hand, "After you sign this."
"What's that? Let me guess, Bubble's famous black book which is ironically dark green in color." Jazz crowed, walking up to Head Mistress May.
"Aw, you're so smart but apparently not smart enough to not publish those articles."
"That's a long list of notorious kids." Jazz chuckled as she wrote her name down and signed in the spaces provided on the columned sheet.
"How does it feel being number thirty-eight?"
Jazz laughed, feeling like she was a celebrity being interviewed on a red carpet, "Feels splendid." She dished and walked out of the classroom like some girl boss.
Finally she could go grab some food. Loosing all her manners in that instant, Jazz screamed joyously as she skidded to the Brown House.
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Later that night, Jazz kept turning on her bed as sleep seemed pretty far from her, luckily it was a Sunday night but she'd be late for chapel if she didn't sleep soon, not like she's ever been early for chapel... Ever.
As she stared into the darkness in the room and did her best to block out the intrusive sound of Felicity sleeping fitfully and snoring like a bull, Her day kept replaying over and over in her head.
Jazz the Journalist.
She sure liked how that sounded.
That's when she recalled something she'd seen inscribed on the desk in bold capital letters. Although it was in caps, it could easily go unnoticed because of how close to the edge it was written and how small the caps were.
The sentence sent chills down her spine and it read; PURPLE was here.
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A/N: *cackles wickedly* please consider to vote and leave nice comments. See you in seven, chef kisses.
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