8. Secret Agents
Detention. The true definition is the punishment of being kept in school after hours. My definition, and probably most teenagers, the longest time period in your life. What with detention and the fact that it feels like time just stops? I couldn't imagine what it be like if I had an hour detention instead of a twenty minutes, but still it felt like I was stuck for an eternity.
I continued to stare at the clock that hung above the supervisor. I don't even think they're a teacher. I'm pretty sure I've seen her with a mop at some point in the year.
The short blonde strands of hair was pulled back so tight, I thought it was gonna be ripped out of her skull. The crystal blue eyes continued to scan the book (Fifty shades of Gray) she was reading. Which defiantly doesn't seem appropriate for a school. Also who wants to enjoy a book all about sex and overprotective, powerful business owner? Apparently she does.
I felt a small paper hit me in the head. Woo.
I turned to see Blake, who was sitting the table over, mouthing out something pointing to the note that sat on my table now.
I unraveled the note and examined what he wrote inside.
I pulled out my only pen to write back. If I weren't so bored I wouldn't do this. Rather rather not be stuck I'm here longer of we get caught.
I flicked the note back to him. He smiled at my reply. Wrote something else down and flicked it back at me. This time it didn't hit me in the head.
Smiling, I look back up at him. He tilted his head to the teacher, causing me to glance over.
The book was rested on her face. Usually that means she fell asleep.
Blake carefully stood up from his seat, and waited for me to do so too. We tiptoed towards the door as quiet as we could. It felt like an action movie. We were the secret agents and we just stole something that could save the world.
Since I have the imagination of a child. I held up my fingers like it was a gun. Just when Blake turned around to check on me.
I froze in place. Well if he didn't think I was weird then. He does now.
I saw the corners of his mouth curl upwards into a smile. Next thing I knew, he held up his hand into finger guns and he took it to the next level. He hugged the wall and began using his hand to gesture what we would do. I follows him and hunter to wall also. When he held out his hand to stop, I stopped. He peered out the glass window of the door, as if he was checking to make sure it was clear. Slowly he turned the door handle slowly and when the door was opened, he somersaulted out. Continue with our imaginative game, I waited until he told me it was clear. His arm stuck into the classroom and commanded me to follow. I didn't somersault like he did and I felt like he was disappointed in my action. He closed the door, making sure it didn't make a sound. Instead of ending the fun here, he continued until we got out of the building. Every corner we stopped and he peered over the wall to make sure it was clear. Every once in awhile he would roll on the ground and when it started to hurt his back because he was rolling on tiled floors; he started to slide from corner to corner. He tried to get me to join him. I didn't.
When we got to the front door he turned to me. I thought we were done, but nope. I was wrong.
He counted down from three with his fingers right before he bolted to his car. Completely taking me by surprised.
Now running as a non-athletic person is already hard. Trying to catch up with the football player while trying to act stealthy. Impossible.
When we arrived at the car, Blake was just fine. Actually he was laughing at what just happened for the last five minutes. I was huffing and puffing. Trying to find some available oxygen that was left in the air.
"That was really fun." Blake says with a huge grin on his face. "Actually that was more fun than I've had in awhile."
"Glad to make your day." I grin. Sliding the seat belt across my body. I don't wanna die if we get into an accident. Not that I'm doubting Blake's driving. Just, precautions.
"I don't remember you being such a geek." He added.
"Actually the definition of geek is someone who rather play video games than any sports." I inform him. Instead of him rolling his eyes, which people usually do when I correct them, he smiled wider. "Usually it's called an imagination. Which I had no idea the big, jock had."
"You don't know a lot about the big, jock." He tells me.
"I do know that he refers to himself in third person." I snicker. "And that he has an unique imagination too."
"Did you just call me unique?" He glanced over at me.
"Don't get too cocky. Besides keep your eyes on the road."
"Yes ma'am." He looked back on the road after putting both of us in danger.
When we reached a stoplight he looked back over at me with a huge smile. "Why were you late for Mr. Rogers class anyways?"
"Oh. It's nothing." I quickly say as normal as I could. I don't need to drag Blake into my social life. "Speaking about that, sorry about getting you in trouble too."
He chuckled slightly.
"Why you laughing?"
"Trust me. If I didn't want to get in trouble I wouldn't of lied for you." He explains. "I mean it's Mr. Rogers, he throws out detention like money in a poker game."
"The why did you?" I ask.
He steps on the gas pedal, jolting me forward where I almost hit the dashboard.
After he finished laughing at me almost hitting myself, he continued. "Coach was in a bad mood, I had to have an excuse to get out of weight training."
"I'm no student-athlete, but aren't you not suppose to do that?" Does he not want to be playing and on the bad side of the head coach?
"Before class I told him I'm working on my grade in History." He looked over at me, reminding me that I didn't agree to tutor him. "And since school comes first and it was just a weight day. I was able to miss today."
"Right." I say even though I am completely lost at what he just said.
"So like. you're passing history right?" He then asks.
"Of course I'm passing history. If I weren't my dad would kill me." I joke. Except it wasn't really a joke. Dad is very serious when it comes to grades. Even though he's an artist, he has a office job downtown because he was so focused on becoming a professional artist, he didn't care about grades. If he cared about his grades he would of been able to get a higher ranking in the job, but since he averaged about a D in school (and the job bases your position on your grades which doesn't make since) he now deals with angry consumers. And he has horrible hours.
"How is your dad anyways. Since your mom marriage?" Now Blake was getting more personal with me. I don't even know how he knew about the wedding.
"He's the same old person he was before." I shorten it up.
Dad has always been a unique character. Except when him and my mom were together he didn't seem so happy. Now that I'm older, I understand why. He was being constantly criticized for having a low paying job while my mother owned her own business. How he wasn't a good father because he was constantly working. How my mother got sick of him trying to become a professional artist when I entered high school. How he didn't want to get a college degree because he knows he'll become famous. I remember then fighting every night. Every once in awhile I'd hear him crying. But once they got a divorce, he seemed much more happy now. I'm fact he is trying to become the father he couldn't be back then while we all lived together.
When we pulled up into the apartment parking lot. Blake found a spot and turned toward me.
"Let's go get our History on!" He said somewhat excitingly.