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"Dirty Deeds"

Detention.

Detention?

In all twelve years of my academic career I never had detention – never had seen the inside of a principal's office, never had to clap chalkboard erasers. Geeze, my record was so spotless it would glitter in the sunlight. I took pride in that. I took pride in being a role model student for both my peers and underlings. Two little words destroyed my perfect performance and I think we all know who.

Billy Hargrove, literal scum of the Earth.

"You gonna say anything to me?" Billy asked. He sat behind the teacher's desk, reclining deeply into the seat as if this were his very own Science classroom. He'd even went as far as to writing 'Mr. Hargrove' on the chalkboard behind him. He snapped his fingers in my direction and I sunk a little deeper in my chair. "Hello!" he scoffed. "Isn't that a peach. You had so much to say this morning and now that we're in this goddamn shit-hole you're taking up some kind of vow of silence?"

"Yes," I replied flatly. "We have fifty-six minutes left of this torture. I'd like to spend those minutes in quiet please."

"This your first time?"

"Thanks to you."

The disgust smeared across his features hardly affected me. Billy's opinion of me wasn't something I particularly cared about. "That's so unnatural it's a little scary. You deserve an award," he said. I had one already. Exemplary Behavior. Got it in 7th grade. The teacher even threw me an ice cream bash because of it. Didn't mean he needed to know anything about me though. "I see the inside of these four walls more than my bedroom."

"Something tells me that's not hyperbole."

Wonderful silence swept away our conversation and I couldn't have been happier. AP Calculus was far more interesting anyway. I buried my face into my homework while Billy... pierced into the depths of my inner most being. Relentlessly. I could feel his sight burning into me so badly that I hoped he didn't leave a bald spot in the middle of my head. I ignored him and ignored and ignored and ignored but I couldn't take it anymore. Who could solve for X in this kind of toxic environment?

"Stop it!" I slammed my pencil onto the desk and gave him my attention. "What do you want?!"

"You know, I was just thinking..." He tossed a colorful ball of rubber-bands from one hand to the other. "If this is your first time dealing with the constricting shackles of school discipline, how many other firsts-"

"Just shut up, okay? Shut up." I hopped from my seat, screaming far louder than I intended. I don't know what came over me, but I knew this situation was the epitome of unbearable. Prisoners of War had it easier. "This next hour will go by totally faster if you zip your lips. Bag it!"

His grin dropped and his baby blues burned with a look I'd seen before. Drunken dipshits at parties had given me this glossy wicked gaze but they weren't on the same notch as Billy. This was something he had perfected.

"Say that again to me," he hissed. "I dare you."

I hadn't realized how close I'd gotten to him until Billy leaned over the teachers desk. I could see the thickness of his eyelashes, the stubble barely forming over his jaw, the sheen of wetness on his lips.

"Bag it, Hargrove."

His fingers gripped the polished wood hard enough to leave smudges. "How about you make me, pussycat."

This was wrong. Totally not PG. I wanted to turn away and ignore him. I should've. I don't know what made me stay. I guess it was my own ego, not wanting to let him win. For Lucas' sake. If I wanted this a-hole to leave my brother alone, I had to be fearless.

"Don't call me that."

"I'm done with your shit, Kaitlin Sinclair," he said my name with a particular grade of heat that I'd never heard used when saying it before. "You punched me today. Your dirty hand actually hit my face."

"Keep your hands off my brother and we won't have that problem."

"Do you know what happens when freakazoid nerds like you catch the eye of someone like me?"

Not really.

"They get detention?"

"Natural selection." Billy's lips curled into crude smirk. "Put your hands up."

He took a quick step backwards and our faces were no longer inches a part. I was now staring at his hands. Namely, the green rubber-band stretched between his index finger and thumb. It was like a gun, threatening to shoot without remorse if I so much as stepped out of line.

"Get that out my face, Billy," I warned. "Now."

"Put your hands up, Sinclair."

The idea of getting hit with a rubber-band totally sucked so reluctantly I followed his orders. I raised my hands to either side of my face. But I knew there would be more demands. He wouldn't be a gracious winner.

"Good," he said. "Now apologize."

"For what? You totally deserved it."

"That's bull, Sinclair, and you know it. That shit happened almost four months ago."

"Does it look like I care?"

"No, it looks like you're gonna get-"

Pop!

The sting of the rubber-band lashed against the middle of my head and I yelped out of shock. He hit me in the face. He actually did that to me and now had the nerve to mimic the sound of an arcade game's winning theme. How immature could one person be?

And just like that rubber-band, I snapped.

"Do you want to die?" I lunged for the ruler on the teachers desk. I held it outwards like a blade as I cautiously stepped around the desk to Billy. "Because you're as good as dead."

"You don't need to measure, I'll answer it for you," Billy said. With every step I took forward, he took one back. "It's seven and a half inches."

I screamed a battle cry as I charged at Billy like I was a part of the British Calvary. My strikes against his body were harsh and repetitive. He was going to die. Plain and simple. As soon as he stopped laughing at me like a hyena, he'd be dead.

"What's going on in here?"

Whipping my hand behind my back, I tried concealing my assault weapon from Mrs. Peterson. She was supposed to be our supervision for detention today, but had been running late for the first twenty minutes. As fate would have it, she showed up at the most inopportune moment of my life. I was about as lucky as the Griswold Family.

"Nothing," I squeaked. "We were just playing."

"Tell her, Kaitlin!" Billy said, running to the side of Mrs. Peterson. He gripped his shoulder, grunting as if he were in some kind of pain. "Tell her how you beat me with a ruler."

Mrs. Peterson shrieked. Her hand clutched the fake pearls of her necklace. "Miss Sinclair!"

"I-I-I-..." I stammered. What was there to say? Dammit. "I-..."

"That's why we're in here in the first place. She hit me before first period too." Billy had no problem narcing. "That's why I'm unjustly in here. If you didn't come sooner, Maria, I don't know what would've happened to me." He wrapped an arm around the teacher's shoulder and I could've barfed at the performance. "She said she wanted to kill me."

"But he hit me with a rubber-band!"

"Really, Kaitlin," Billy said. "How much of a liar are you?"

"It's okay, it's okay, calm down, Billy." Mrs. Peterson cooed, rubbing Billy's back up and down, up and down. Then in small methodical circles. This. Was. Weird. And did he call her Maria? What student called their teacher by their first name? "You've endured enough trauma for today. I'm expunging your detention. Go home and get some rest."

Billy smiled and my insides liquified. Lying bastard. "Thank you."

"You on the other hand, Kaitlin!" Mrs. Peterson turned to me with a scornful gaze. "This is so unlike you. What were you thinking? Sit down and next time keep your hands to yourself. Tell your parents to be expecting a call from me."

I did as I was told. I sat down back in my original seat and watched Billy gather his things (a carton of cigarettes) and leave. This man was untouchable. A wad of gum stuck in my hair that I would have to cut out. He closed the door behind him, but made sure I saw him turn around and look at me through the glass window of the door.

He watched me stew in my anger and threw kerosene on the embers. He gave me another infamous smile that drastically foiled the previous act he performed for the teacher's sympathy. I could've screamed. He winked and left me to rot in jail for a crime that was his fault while he soared freely like a bird.

UGH!

I hated him.