Students at St. Peter's were overly conscientious of the rules, I always knew that, but it was still weird to see that no one else was in evening detention other than Gallagher and I. Not a single stoner or class clown, no one had ditched school or talked back, so it was just me, my new friend, and Mr. Grant. Of course, fate had seen to it that we'd have to serve out our sentence with my English teacher. Maybe he'd even requested it just to spite me.
"I don't know what kind of treatment you two have been used to, but detention with me will be a silent affair," he said, peering at us over the top reading glasses, eyes impossibly blue. "When I was a boy, they'd give us the cane if we uttered a peep."
Gallagher rolled his eyes before smiling at me. We were a few seats apart, but it didn't matter if we couldn't speak.
After ten minutes or so, I asked to go to the toilet, out of boredom if nothing else.
"I'll have to walk you," Mr. Grant said standing up. "And before you ask, it's standard protocol. Usually, there are more students left behind to uphold the honor system, but I trust Adam here a good deal more than I trust you."
My whole body sighed as his patronizing words. He really did talk like he was in some off-brand Bronte novel. Luckily, the girls' room was just down the hall, so we didn't need to spend too long in each other's company. Thank God, he didn't follow me in. I wondered if he used Gallagher's first name on purpose to annoy him. It was clear to me, even after just a few conversations, that his surname was his preference. I took my sweet time washing my hands just to annoy Mr. Grant, until he pounded on the door.
"Wait," he said, once I exited. "I need to pat you down."
"Is that protocol too?" I asked with a raised eyebrow, snarkier than I would've thought I'd be, considering the circumstances.
"Yes, it is."
"Why would it matter if I brought something out of the bathroom; I'm going to be in the same room as you. Wouldn't it make more sense to pat me down before I go in?"
"I can't keep my eyes on you the whole time."
"What about the honor system?"
He huffed, clearly frustrated, and forced my arms up, running his hands across them like they do in airports, but much more... thoroughly. Luckily (I hoped) anti-me was back, probably out of some sense of self-preservation. So I didn't even blush as his hands glided up my torso, lingering on my chest. He even knelt down to check my shoes and knee-socks.
"Do you like me?" I asked, remembering what Keith said about my legs. When he stood up to stare at me, I didn't flinch. "It'd be okay if you did; it's natural."
For a moment, he hesitated, then he reached out to play with the button on my blazer. "What would you do if I did?" he asked, which was a decidedly bizarre answer, but he just stood there, not quite meeting my eyes. "It would be very inappropriate, wouldn't it?"
That's when my nerve failed me, and I flinched back terrified. "Yes, it would be."
If I were Thelma, maybe I'd have acted differently, but my spark was dim to begin with and dwindled quickly. Keith had been right, Mr. Grant was a creep. Maybe one day I'd be found attractive by someone my own age.
Sorry this is so short. I'm more into reading than writing at the moment, so chapters might come a bit slower than they have been for the past couple weeks. I go through phases of trying to find new stories and fanfics, things that don't have too many reads or are just starting out, and supporting them. Also, I'm going through a bit of writer's block, and reading helps that. I've got some books from B&N that I've been wanting to get to. I'm not taking a break, but there will probably not be more than two, maybe three, chapters a week going forward. Thanks again to everyone who is reading, voting, and commenting, it means the world!!!