Chapter Thirteen: Detention Seven Billion Times

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Chapter Thirteen: Detention Seven Billion Times

      “I really don’t want to be here! I’m going to get, like, mugged!”

      “Piper, shut up!” I snapped, slouching down in my seat as far as possible. “Preston is our ride home and he has practice or he’s hooking up with some girl. So since we have to be here anyways, just chill!”

      “How can I ‘just chill’?” the nervous blonde fired back incredulously, as if the idea itself was preposterous. “Seriously, Livy, I think that I’m going to get mugged!”

      “By who?” I demanded, crossing my arms across my chest. “Piper, it’s just going to be a bunch of rich kids who showed up to school late with Starbucks cappuccinos in hand, but claimed that they ‘totaled’ their million dollar sports cars or that they hit ‘traffic,’ but Harry sadly didn’t believe them. That’s it!”

      “I don’t believe you!” she huffed defiantly, moving her bag from the floor to her desktop in paranoia.

      “Piper, who the heck do you think gets stuck here? Axe murderers? Robbers? Stoners? Seriously, why are we here?” I questioned, trying to calm her down, though I knew that I was doing a crappy job. I wasn’t a born consoler. It just wasn’t who I was. I much preferred the hands-off approach, allowing the upset party to go about with their own issue and get as far away as possible from them.

      “Because we skipped gym,” she mumbled.

      “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear that,” I smirked.

      “BECAUSE WE SKIPPED GYM, OKAY?” she said much louder than her first attempt.

      “So if that’s their standard,” I yawned, mentally preparing myself for a nap, “then what do you think lands other kids in here?”

      “Murder,” she concluded in all earnestness.

      “Elle happens to be a lawyer, so I have a hunch that larger courts deal with that stuff,” I rolled my eyes at her absurdity. “I was actually going to suggest something like, I don’t know, being a repeat dress code offender, parking in the teacher’s parking lot, or even skipping a class—like us. I promise no murderers will be in here.”

      “If you’re lying, then I’m going to dye your hair pink when you’re sleeping one night,” she threatened, resorting to curling her knees up to her chest as she rocked back and forth in her chair lightly. On the Irrationality Meter, Piper was only at an eleven, assuming the scale was one through ten. She definitely had it in her to get to a fifteen or twenty, and I had witnessed it first hand, so was actually somewhat relieved that she wasn’t overreacting that much. Sure, spending an hour locked up in a room with her didn’t seem all that appealing to me right now, but since it was our fateful reality, I would be able to deal.

      “At least settle for a cool color like purple,” I tried to joke, but Piper clearly didn’t find my jibe at one of her main components of life all that humorous.

      “Pink is a cool color,” she pouted, not taking kind to what I had said. “Pink is, like, life, Liv!”

      “Of course it is,” I nodded sociably, though I didn’t believe a word of what I was saying.

      The clatter of a door handle in the distance suddenly gained both of our focuses, our heads snapping in the direction of the noise synchronously, as if it had been choreographed in a movie. Slowly, the wood panel of the entrance swung open, revealing two individuals. One was an aging man in a suit with a boring tie of red and blue stripes who I had seen many times before and always referred to by the first name. The other was a loser in his standard ensemble of a leather jacket, jeans, and Converse. Their facial expressions were from alternate galaxies, for the elder of the two looked as stoic and edgy as always, white the teen was a carefree relaxed.

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