I knew that this would be my luck. The flaming sphere in the sky is glowing down from the cloudless aqua sky, its beaming rays kissing my already bronzed skin. A tender breeze encircles around me, howling along in a song with the chirping birds. On a beautiful Saturday day like this, I should be one of the overjoyed teenagers adoring the two days where we are liberated from the exhausting work and domineering teachers getting paid to scrutinize us that generates the world of education.
I can't believe I have to spend one of the only two days of freedom in school. I had whined about this unjust fact to my dad at breakfast this morning. As usual he was too captivated in his work of accounting, fatiguing himself at an early hour for the promotion he is hungering for. My dad – Maxwell Nightingale is what most people would label 'a workaholic' since he spends hours after hours slaving away at different peoples bank accounts, monitoring businesses taxes and more tiring situations that I tend to avoid to bring up in conversation.
I saunter down the street in a light grey oversized jumper with a neck cut so it slouches off one shoulder, scarlet lace leggings along with feather roaches with an array of mulberry, royal blue and pale pink bouncing in my voluminous coffee hair as my heels click on the sidewalk and the sound of The Bangles blaring out from my headphones that are connected to my cassette walkman. This day isn't going to be as exhilarating as it would have been if I hadn't have gotten placed in this wearisome eight hour imprisonment. There's nothing I can do about it now, what happened in the past stays in the past to my demise. If I had a chance to alter it though, I wouldn't hesitate for a single moment.
Suddenly a muffled growling sound approaches me; I rotate around to view my older sister behind the wheel of razor-edge silver car. My twenty-two year old sister – Heather Nightingale, in my opinion is a saviour. She's aided me through thick and thin, and has never failed me. Not to mention along with her charitable personality, she has impeccable looks as well to combine. Heather has hair of the purest black colour glazed with a natural shine and her eyes are so brown they are like a river of liquefied dark chocolate. She has a bright future ahead of her as she is training to become a physical therapist at an elite university. Ever since she joined at the age of eighteen, I hardly see her anymore. Heather had her future scheduled at a young age – go to school, get outstanding grades and go to university whilst having a moderately good time with close friends that didn't include alcohol, drugs, cigarettes or attending disreputable celebrations dedicated to nothing but the enjoyment of drunken nights.
"You look kinda cold, sis! Wanna ride?" she asks, immediately I jump into the warm shelter of the car. "I'll take that as a yes!" she then giggles as I slam the car door behind me. "Does Dad know you're going to detention?"
"Would he give a shit anyway? He's too busy worrying about his little promotion, remember?" I retort with nothing but sarcasm and slight infuriation, I have remorse almost instantly for what I've just said. Heather just rolls her eyes at me, thankfully she can relate to my resentment to a certain extent. She's the oldest child after all; she's qualified when it comes to my fathers' work fixation.
"Want me to tell him for you, Simmone? Not like he's gonna ground you or anything" I have never been grounded or restricted from going anywhere in my whole life. My dad thinks that me being unconstrained from rules and regulations is the flawless technique of earning my forgiveness.
Heather restores that snarling noise of the engine as she rotates the golden key whilst heightening her eyebrow at me, cueing my reply.
"Like you said, he's not gonna ground me or anything, so what's the point in telling him?" I question, Heather already has knowledge that there's no significance in telling our dad the reason I'm out of the house all day. He'll most likely be presuming I'm at something where all the kids like me go to meet up with boisterous men and greet themselves with irresponsibility.
"Well, ok then" Heather sighs in vexation, knowing that it's better if she just agrees with me. We sit in complete silence with only the ginger sound of classical music playing in the background. I peer outside, my posture slouched and my fingers clasped around my slim waist, yearning for my troubled thoughts to be dragged into dreamworld. It won't happen though, that entrancing world doesn't exist to me. It's never existed, and it never will.
The car grinds to a sudden halt, my little piece of serenity being vanquished.
"How the hell did you get your driver's licence?" I ridicule in a slow voice to show my sarcasm, referring to the unpredicted stop. Heather just chuckles at me, our relationship is like this. We don't fight like vicious men; we have petty conflicts such as this, both of us having the knowledge that we adore each other to pieces.
"Intelligence and focus, stick to those two things and you'll be ok in life" Somehow Heather, ever since my memory allows me to recall, has had pieces of advice with the purpose of guiding me through every day that drifts past.
"Gee, thanks. I'll remember that when I'm writing my essay on how this day is gonna teach me a lesson" I tug the two corners of my rosy lips up into a cynical smile, dropping them just as quickly.
"Glad to see how I've inspired you!" Heather laughs, absorbing in my pessimistic side as humour. I'm accustomed to how she deals with my personality now. I roll my eyes and abandon her gleeful presence, slamming the polished door behind me. "What time you want picking up?" her voice sounds stifled as its suffocated by the four silver doors that act as a person's entrance and an escape.
I lazily revolve around, circling my index finger to indicate that she should wind the sterile window down in order for me to reply. She does this, leaning over the obstacles in her way.
"How about five seconds?" once again, she repeats her frustrating titter that reminds me of a broken record duplicating since she does it every single time my ironic side arises.
"Unless you want me to get arrested for speeding, then you're gonna have to wait about nine hours" she giggles at her own witty joke whilst my eyes stare at her dully. I begin my journey to a day of utter monotony, advancing quickly towards the building that replicates an enslaved prison. "See you later!"
A girl with auburn pigtails, quite picturesque with a natural face, scampers so she's equal with me. In her knee length plaid skirt, beige sweater and colossal glasses, members of the school can analyse her to be one of the geeks. Her name is Mary Hall, and as well as being a nerd on the science team going into the science national competition, she grovels at my very feet just for a miniscule taste of popularity. I am not popular nor am I not accepted by society, I belong to the class in the middle where people are neither arrogant like those in the higher clique nor reserved with a book based on Physics. We are the middle, the group with the biggest population.
"Hi, Simmone! What you doing at school so early?" Mary Hall enthusiastically chirps, clutching a book with a pattern matching her skirt securing the pages inside, and flashing her uneven teeth protected by a silver brace glinting in the sunlight.
"I could ask you the same question, Mary" my view is in a straight line, the only sight I have of Mary Hall is in the corner of my eye which makes her appear hazy.
"Well, I'm at a class with Mr Malone along with some other people. Say, would you like to come along? It'll be super to have you – "
"I'm at detention, Mary. But thanks for the offer, I'm sure it'll be swell" my tone remains uninterested, yet a little piece buried inside of me wishes to let her down gently.
"Oh, well, since you're in the library, we might see each other at some point! I'm probably gonna get a book out on Mathematics..." she trails on with an elongated list of the many books consumed with education she'll borrow from the school library that will be my cell for the day.
"Enjoy your class, Mary. See you around" I smile hastily before dashing up the concrete stairs and through the sturdy double doors.
"See you later, Simmone! It was nice talking to you again!" the echoes of Mary Hall's squeaky voice races into my pierced ears before the doors slam to bar them from competing in the race of sound.
I make my way down the godforsaken halls where the only objects residing are pieces of derelict paper scribbled in homework drifting around by the fuel of air, and the permanent burgundy lockers that store personal belongings to other inmates of the school. It's abnormal seeing it so empty, it's like a flatline – it's lost all life.
Finally, I reach the library crowded with ancient books dating back to the 1900's crammed together in numerous rows. The three pine tables at the front attract my attention. I walk over to them, dragging out a seat with a bloodcurdling screech created by the seats metal legs and floor colliding, and then sitting in it. The chair is solid and cold, rather uncomfortable to sit on in my opinion. It just shows what less than twenty four hours without school can do to you after you arrive back to the luxuries of home.
"You know the drill, Bender. Library, then sit" I hear Principal Vernon scold from far away.
There are two people in our school with the surname of Bender. One is a famous jock with the name of Abe, short for Abraham but unless you want a black eye then his name is Abe, Bender with a foul temper and determination to get me as his girl. The other, is John Bender – the devilish juvenile who doesn't give a care in the world. No matter how much I despise Abe Bender, if it's John Bender – then I'm doomed.
My first Breakfast Club story! Let me know what you guys think in a review, hope you enjoy! :D Thank you for reading!