Detention (ASOUE)

Chapter Nine

Thank goodness it's the weekend, I thought to myself the next morning. Despite the fact I had homework to do, I was glad that I had a couple of days at home to recover before doing another week's worth of detentions, as well as possibly getting into another feud with Carmelita Spats. 

School was unpredictable, but at home everything seemed to run like clockwork. I would wake up in the late morning, have a cup of tea and breakfast with whoever else was up, our mother would be baking or gardening or relaxing on the couch, our father would be reading or painting in the conservatory. We might stay home, we might go out for the day, but either way our weekends were never out of the ordinary. And I appreciated that. It was nice to know what to expect at home. 

Today was no different. Rain was thundering away outside as Quigley and I ate toast in the living room and watched some sort of housing-based show. Usually he would still be sleeping but he had friends coming over so he was up bright and early with me and our mother. She was pottering around in the kitchen, weighing out ingredients and mixing others together, occasionally asking us about the show.

The show ended and I went into the kitchen to help.

"Which one did they pick?" My mother asked, not taking her eyes off the recipe book.

"The bungalow."

"Really? I thought the beach house was a lot nicer. And it had a better view."

I nodded absentmindedly. "Yeah... but it only had eight bedrooms and they have seventeen kids."

Quigley snorted. "Wow, you can tell they don't have any hobbies."

I flicked flour at him. "Don't be crude."

"I didn't say anything crude, you dirty-minded-"

"Quigley, don't be mean to your sister," our mother intervened, and I stuck my tongue out. Quigley glared at me in return.

Not wanting to irritate him anymore, I headed back to my room and started getting my homework done. I knew that if I got it all done now, I could just relax in the afternoon and all day tomorrow. I figured it was a good deal to suffer through it all now and have the rest of the weekend free, so I forced myself to do it. It was only when I was halfway through my english assignment that my bedroom door flew open.

"Isadora, let me stay in here," said Duncan, "Quigley kicked me out of the dining room so he can play that stupid game with his friends. I would work in my room but I'll get distracted."

"What homework are you doing?"

"Maths."

"That sucks."

"Tell me about it! Quigley said he would help me but I guess he forgot."

I took a look at his worksheet. "Oh, I have the same one. Give me a sec and we can do it together."

For about an hour, Duncan and I helped each other with work. We got almost everything done before we got bored.

"We should get a snack," I suggested and Duncan nodded furiously. 

But as soon as we reached the kitchen, we knew we'd come too late. The cookies our mother had been baking that morning were already claimed by Quigley's gaming group. Instead of taking a few, they had hoarded the entire plate, and Duncan was raging.

"How is this fair?!" He exclaimed, "First they take over the dining room and now they've stolen cookies that were meant for everyone."

I frowned. "Let's just get something else to eat."

But Duncan wasn't so easily swayed. "No. Let's get some damn cookies."

"How though? They've got that room on lockdown."

"I don't know, just go and flick your hair at them."

"How would that help?!"

"Pierre is pretty much planning your wedding so-"

"Who the hell is Pierre?!"

"Can you two keep it down?" A new voice intervened. That voice belonged to Quigley, who was stood cross-armed in the doorway. "There's more cookies in the tin in the cupboard... idiots."

"Oh," was all Duncan could say to that statement. The two of us grabbed the tin and ran back to my room, embarrassed about the situation.

"I didn't realise we were being that loud," I commented.

"I suppose we were shouting a little bit."

"Oh well. We got cookies." That was the most important thing.

For the rest of the day, Duncan and I hung out. We watched films, finished our homework, and annoyed Quigley and his friends some more. By the time the sun went down, we had a slight case of cabin fever, so while everyone else was relaxing after dinner, we were chasing each other around, much to our parents' dismay.

"That's it," our mother announced, after Duncan send a couch cushion flying down the hall, "We're going out tomorrow."

*

Dull sunlight peeked through a gap in my curtains as the morning rolled into session. It was a stark contrast from the rainy weather that dominated the previous day, but the damp leaves on the ground were there as a reminder. I began to pull on comfortable clothes but then had to stop myself. We were planning on going out today and, for our family, that meant we had to dress nice. We were constantly being judged on our appearances. At least, that's what our parents seemed to think, as they insisted we put our best clothes on wherever we went. I'd figured out by now that they only really forced us to do that in case we ran into our rich aunt or the Baudelaire's, two parties that my parents were always trying to out do. So, I ditched my sweatshirt and put on the burgundy tea dress my mother had picked out for me the night before.

Heading downstairs, the rest of the family were waiting in the living room, everyone sporting their equally autumnal colours. We sat for a bit while our mother fussed with which earrings she would be wearing, and then we headed out to brunch.

As a concept, I enjoyed brunch. I mean, who wouldn't enjoy an extra meal in the day? But in reality, when it was brunch with my family, it wasn't quite as enjoyable. Sure, we got to eat nice food, but it was constantly a popularity contest between us and the other families in the area. We had to be on our best behaviour, and if there was even a hair on our head out of line, it would ruin our parents' day. After all, our parents' reputation was at stake. 

The restaurant was fairly busy when we arrived, but we had booked a table in advance so we were seated right away. However, we had barely tucked ourselves in and started looking at the menu when I noticed a cloud of black smoke out the corner of my eye. I turned my head and my heart dropped into my stomach. 

Why? Because the Baudelaires had just arrived, and they were heading straight for our table.