Marlboro Love [Billy Hargrove]

Chapter 2: Detention

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-'ˏ Charlotte Anderson's Pov ˎ'-

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The Anderson's House
Friday , 6:00 a.m
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TW: Abusive home situations
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I couldn't sleep. Not with the fear of my father busting through the door or the inevitable nightmares. I sighed and let my head fall back against the door. If I sat with my back to the door I'd know if my father came in. The whole night I replayed the interaction with the boy with the Camaro.

Sighing deeply I dragged myself up off the floor and turned to press my ear to the door. When I was met with silence I slowly turned the handle, pulling it towards me so that it didn't creak. Luckily the glass and beer had been cleaned up, although it still reeked of alcohol. My mom had probably done it out of guilt and in her own fucked up way of apologizing.

After making my way to the bathroom I eagerly locked the door and leaned over the sink. Pressing myself up on my forearms I peered at my reflection. An ugly split lip and frown adorned the face that stared back at me.

"Whatever." I mutter to myself before splashing my face with cold water and getting ready for the day.

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"What happened?" Tina asked with a shocked look on her face.

"Fell." I mumbled back as I shoved the last of my books into my locker. I quickly locked it and began to walk away, hoping to evade Carol and her cronies for the day.

"Doesn't look like it." Tina responds as she falls into step beside me.

I turn my head to look at her. "Drop it." I say with finality.

She shrugs and goes back to fiddling with her backpack straps.

Sighing at my defensive behavior I decide to throw her a bone, "Did you do the homework for Mrs. Johnson's class?"

She snorts, "Hell yeah! That woman is scary."

I laugh in response before letting it fall silent again. As we approach the classroom I feel my palms starting to sweat knowing that I didn't do my homework.

As everyone sits down they pull out their homework and lay it on their desk. My leg anxiously bounces up and down as I stare at the scratches and marks on my bare desktop that announced to everyone else that Charlotte Anderson once again did not do her work.

My eyes snapped up as the teacher stood from her desk and began her slow walk around the classroom to pick it up. It reminded me of a lion who was zoning in on their prey. When she finally got to my desk I stared at the floor.

"Homework?" She asks me, the lilt of her voice telling me that she enjoyed watching me squirm.

"I don't have it." I whispered.

"Speak up dear."

"I didn't do it." I said loud enough for her and others to hear.