It All Started with a Tweet [Zayn Malik]

06: The Invitation

                I braided my hair into a side plait, brushed my teeth and packed my bag before stepping into the outside world. It was a foggy day, but that's England for you. I proceeded to the madhouse next door, where students started to arrive and converse with their friends.

                Lani and Kate had decided to come early for once, so I spend the next few minutes with them before the echo of the school bell surrounded the grounds. First period was History, which is unpleasant on a foggy Monday morning, but History is never pleasant, is it? I grabbed my chunky text book, with ages of useless information and braced myself to receive a detention from Mr. Cohen.

                Outside the classroom, people lined up to wait for Mr Cohen to unlock the door and let us in. Most of the class had already handed in their project, but there were about five others in the same situation as me. I viewed History the same way Hermione viewed Divination in Harry Potter; Useless.

                Unfortunately, Mr. Cohen arrived instead of a substitute teacher and we all took our seats. 

                "Can everyone who has not already handed in their project please hand it to me now." was his opening line

                Three people stood up and placed their papers in a neat pile on the front desk while Mr. Cohen checked then off

                "We're still waiting for Avalon and Freddie. You will both see me in detention after school."

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                 During the lunch hour I filled Lani and Kate in on Zayn and I's morning talk. Kate was happy, but not as nearly excited as Lani. The two were eager to accompany me on my trip to Bradford so I promised them that I would ask Zayn if it would be ok for them to tag along.

                The final bell rang and I slowly walked through the corridor to savour every last second of freedom. Detention was never fun. It could be productive, if you decided to finish of your homework in the hour you sat in the tense room, but it was never entertaining. Even the pranksters keep quiet during the period.

                I think I'll slowly complete one question of my History assignment over the whole of detention. I'll drag it out over the whole forty-five minutes and make it look as though I'm doing something productive. That should do the trick. That way Mr. Cohen wouldn't constantly be standing behind my back, ready to use  his whip on me and scream 'Work!'. Ok, he doesn't own a whip, but when he stands behind you with his strong glare it feels as though a thin piece of leather is hitting your back with great force.

                I stood in front of the near empty classroom, ready to endure the misery that is boredom, school work and Mr. Cohen all mixed into one. I peeked through the small window and saw only two people present in the gulag. Some quiet girl that never talks and The Chief General himself. I wouldn't be surprised if he wore one of those big Russian fur hats, like in that movie, Red October. 

                I took the metal door handle and twisted it to the left, unlocking the prison cell. It was quite inside. Too quiet. The girl was scribbling away on a piece of lined paper and The Chief was sitting at his desk, watching me like an eagle stalking its prey. I have to admit, there was a part of me that was tempted to put the finger up at him, but the rest of me knew better.