7:01 a.m. - Shermer High School - Library

As I walked around the school, searching for the library, I looked around the hallways, observing a bunch of features. I walked through a hallway that was half-dimmed, and I thought to myself, Is this school too cheap to renovate itself? Wouldn't be surprised if this place closed down a year later after I graduate. I have walked down these hallways the day before, but I never thought they would be this eerily outdated. I don't know if I'm complaining about everything being dated, or me being the only living soul venturing through these corridors.

Through another part of the hallways, I stepped over something that felt like paper. I lifted my foot to see a newspaper. It wasn't just any newspaper. It was Shermer High's exclusive magazine article, 'The Shermer High Bull Dog', headlining 'Clarke Sparks Grapplers'. Some people are too dumb enough to find a trash can. I thought to myself.

I kept on walking to another part of the hallways, passing a carved message on the wall that read 'I don't like Mondays'. Real mature, I thought to myself again, before realizing I was getting ahead of myself, I better stop judging this school before I question why I even came here in the first place.

I saw the entrance to the library. Near the entrance was a plaque saying 'Man of the Year'. I observed the different men throughout the days, and for the first time I entered this school, I had a thought to myself that was more positive, These men must've had a righteous time here when they were here.

I walked into the entrance of the library. To my right, there was a big office filled with books and files with a desk inside. I suspect that that was the librarian's office. Beside the office was stairs that led up to the second floor of the library. To my left, there was some sculpture made of clay, or stone, and more sections of the library. In front of me were six tables, with three seats for each table, two tables in three rows. I headed towards the first table in the last row. My other option was one of the other tables in the front, but I chose this table because I wanted to just lay low for a little while if there were ever any other suckers who'd come in. As I've mentioned, I'm not much of a sociable person in general.

I place my bag onto the chair next to me, as I sigh and picture myself talking with the instructor, whoever they actually are, or if they are coming to here at all. I always wondered what detention was like. A couple of people back at my old school have mentioned that detention is just them explaining to my instructor what they've have done wrong, how they would criticize them, and how they could move on from there and how they could improve on being a better person.

I let out a deep yawn, since I stayed up until midnight last night, trying to get as much homework I was rewarded for starting school later than everyone else done as possible. All I had for breakfast was chunks of granola, which, nowadays, I find too inedible to stomach. My head was swimmy and I was hoping that this detention session would be quick so that I could go back home, take a nap, and start the day over again.

I kept on bouncing my left foot, impatiently waiting for the instructor to arrive and take charge of detention. I kept on looking at my rusty old wristwatch, which I could barely make out and read the time: 7:03.

But as I kept on waiting, I started wondering to myself, Why the hell am I in a library for detention in the first place? I get that a library is roomier, but why a library than a classroom or an office? If it'll be a quick and easy session where we just talk about what I did wrong and what I need to do to improve, why should I bother being in a library? I kept on asking myself, I mean, who else is gonna come in here for detention?

I stood up and glanced at the doors, seeing if there was a teacher walking in to monitor detention, or another fellow classmate who has detention as I do. I kept on doubting the latter, but I still looked at that door as if it was drying paint.

I looked away thinking to myself, I mean, I'm hopin' I'm the only one here. I just hope that there ain't any other suckers who have detention as me.

It was that moment when I asked myself again, Why did I think about that?!

Hearing faint footsteps, my eyes focus on the doorway again. Three seconds later, the person making those footsteps walks in. She was a young lady, neatly dressed, her hair short and cherry-colored, and she looked stunningly pretty. I tried not to make eye contact with her eyes, as she did the same. She sat at the first table in the first row.

I look again at the doorway and see another sucker, err… student, walking in the library. He was a thin young man in a nerdy outfit, with short blonde hair underneath his woolie hat. I suspected that he had a personality of a genius. A happy-go-lucky genius. He looked at me, as I tried not to look back. I also suspected that he was curious and did not know who I was, since I am fresh to this school. Then he turned away and looked at the cherryhead. He sat in the third seat behind her and in front of me.

I look yet again at the doorway and another student walked into the library. He was a built-up young man with dirty-blonde fur on his head. I instantly suspected that he was a jock, a wrestler, to be specific, since he was wearing his letterman jacket. He didn't look at me, as he looked at the cherryhead, her looking back. He pointed to the third chair that she sat at. When she shrugged, he sat at her table.

I studied them in the front, and I could tell that they were among the popular kids at Shermer. I mean, one of them is a jock, one of them is a prep, and jocks and preps usually have the most popular relationships in all schools' student bodies, at least from my perspective.

Hearing footsteps again, my eyes focus on the doorway, seeing another student. From my perspective, he looked… what's that word? Well, let me just say he looks intimidating and not the type of person I'd wanna hang out with if I were friends with him. He wore dark shades and had neck-length brown hair. On his way to the tables, he kept at the librarian desk, touching various things as he kept walking, taking what looked like a pad of small paper and stuffing it in his oversized tan coat.

He stared at the letterman and the cherryhead, put his shades on his head, and walked to the table that the nerd was sitting at. The tough guy glared at the nerd as he pointed to him the table on the other side, and just like every other nerd who encounters a ruffian, he gets up from his seat, and moves to the table diagonal from mine, picking up stuff that he dropped, just wanting to get away from the tough guy. Then I saw the tough guy place the chair the happy nerd sat at in front of the middle chair, where he sat, and placed his feet on the other chair, taking his shades off his head.

I knew that he was sitting behind the letterman and the cherryhead just so that he could do something with the cherryhead. And I thought to myself, Geez! Does everyone have something with the cherryhead?, as I've remembered that the nerd sat behind her before he was booted, the letterman sat with her at her table, and the tough guy kicked the nerd out just so he could sit at the table behind her and the letterman.

Then the tough guy stared at me. When my eyes met his, I quickly covered my face to avoid possibly physical damage from him. Though my hand wasn't much of a good cover-up, I could barely make out that he had a smirk on his face.

More footsteps were heard from the entrance of the library. I uncover my face to see a mysterious-looking young lady dressed all in dark and had messy dark hair. She quietly went around the cherryhead and letterman's table, the tough guy's table, and my table, before going around the sculpture, for some reason, as she headed to the table across from mine and behind the table where the nerd sat, sitting at the third chair. Everyone looked at her like something was wrong with her. I could hear the cherryhead and the letterman snicker to each other, and I could see the nerd turn away from her, confused.

Meanwhile, I thought to myself, I feel like I'm in prison. I've been waiting for that instructor to come to detention and tell me, or us, since there are five other students in here with me, how detention will work and how long it'll be.

I heard more footsteps, and I was like, You've gotta be shitting me!. I glared at the sight of a taller, older looking man wearing a really dated suit, one that I feel should've been worn at a funeral in the early 20th century, holding a bunch of sheets of papers for us. He had that stern look on his face, but beyond that look I saw in him, I saw a gruff madman who deep down, hates all children, and wants to make sure that they have been 'extinguished'. I saw the harshness and cruelty he would bring if one were to make even the slightest slip ups. He's one of those teachers who I bet would send someone to a minefield and would yell at them to escape while wearing a sleep mask or a blindfold, riding a unicycle. If anyone told me what the name Richard Vernon meant, I would say that the name is hate-filled, which is something that this guy has: the name, the hate for everyone. Shit, everything about this guy is hate-filled. And another thing too, he's not just a teacher. He's the vice principal of Shermer!

He stopped in front of all the tables, with everyone looking at him, as he glared at all of us. "Well well…" he said to us, as if we were labelled as disrespectful little asshats, "Here we are." Just hearing the hate-filled voice from his mouth was murder to my ears, "I want to congratulate you for being on time…"

The cherryhead raised her hand, getting Vernon's attention, "Excuse me, sir?" she asked, "I think there's a mistake." Vernon looked at her with suspicion. "I know it's detention," she continued, "But, um… I don't think I belong in here."

I rolled my eyes in disbelief. I could tell that she came from a snobby rich family. I could tell that she wants a type of treatment that the nerd, lettermen, tough guy, mysterious mess, and I could not get, the type her parents would do to buy her out of the library, if not out of detention.

But Vernon, being our detention instructor, and also being the pain in the ass he is, ignored her. He went on, "It is now, 7:06. You have exactly eight hours and fifty-four minutes to think about why you're here. To ponder the error of your ways."

My glare at Vernon intensified when he said that I was gonna have to sit here with five other strangers for NINE hours. It's an entire day I have to spend stuck thinking about what I did to earn detention on a weekend day. But I'm not the only one who is upset with nine hours of being stuck in a library. I saw the nerd check is wristwatch, and the letterman and cherryhead look at each other in disbelief. I'm pretty sure that they're just going with it, and they'd expect me to do the same. So who am I to be the only one disgusted Vernon is being an unnecessary ass to us for making us stay here for nine hours? I mean, I'm a new kid and this is the first time having detention here, not that I had detention back at my old school. If I tell him off, he'd probably spit fire like a dragon.

Speaking of spit, I, along with everyone else, except for the mysterious mess across from me, saw the tough guy look up and spit in the air, catching his spit when it came down. The cherryhead, in particular, gasped with the expression that says, 'Why do I have to be here with this predator in back of me?' She was about to say something to Vernon, but…

"You will not talk." he interjected, pointing to her.

The nerd was about to hop to the seat next to him, but Vernon catches him, "You will not move… from these seats." The nerd looks at Vernon for a second before hopping back to his original seat.

"And you…" Vernon walked over to the tough guy, who still had his feet on the other chair. It wasn't long until Vernon swiped the chair away, leaving the tough guy's feet in the air until he dropped them back to the ground. "...Will not sleep." Vernon finished, putting the chair to the other side of the table.

I still wondered what those pieces of paper Vernon held were supposed to be. Thankfully, and unfortunately, my thought was answered. "Alright people, we're gonna try something a little different today." Then he looked at me and pointed his finger to me. "And even though you started yesterday, I expect something you should learn from this experience… considering not only is this your second day at Shermer, not an official school day I would say, but also your first detention!"

I looked up at Vernon, still having a glare on my face, but also confused. "How do you know that?" I asked under my breath.

Vernon, who had the ears like a hawk, put his hands on the table I sat at and said, "You think I was born yesterday? I read your file. And you were a good albeit unsociable student back in your school in the North Side… And I thought you'd change a new leaf and start at good ol' Shermer High… Next thing you know, you wound up right here, and there's no doubt that it'll go on your permanent record."

My glare intensified, but Vernon did not seem to care. It felt like he was asking for me to hate him, and the more I would glare to him, the more he would feel satisfied with my hatred towards him.

"Sir?" the cherryhead raised her hand again, "I'm not sure if you're supposed to say that in public or in front… uh, a couple other students. Don't you think talking about files should be private?"

Vernon glared at the cherryhead, pointing to her, "I've also read your file, missy!" he threatened, "Unless you want me to bring it up, I suggest you talk less and think about why you're here today. This young man's file is my concern, and MY concern only, not yours." The cherryhead was left with her mouth agape, embarrassed that Vernon has read her file, as she turned towards the letterman, putting her elbow on their table and her hand on her forehead. I saw the letterman glare at Vernon, not wanting to give her any more shit than she, supposedly, already has.

"Now where was I?" Vernon asked to himself, "Oh yeah, this!" Vernon held up the stack of paper he held, placing one onto my desk. "We are going to write an essay…" He walks over to the mysterious mess. "Of no less than a thousand words…" he said, placing a piece of paper onto her table. The mysterious mess turned around to see Vernon, as he walked over to the tough guy's table. "Describing to me, who you think you are." he finished, placing a paper on his table.

"Is this a test?" the tough guy asked.

Vernon ignored the tough guy's question, and walked over to the nerd's table. "And when I say essay," he said placing a paper in front of the nerd, before heading to the letterman and cherryhead's table, "I mean essay." The tough guy put his two feet on top of his sheet and on the table.

Vernon goes back to the front of the rows and continues, "I do not mean a single word repeated a thousand times." He placed two sheets of paper - one for the letterman, one for the cherryhead.

He expects us to write an essay of a thousand words or more? I thought, He's crazier than I thought he'd be!

"Is that clear, Mr. Bender?" Vernon turned to the tough guy.

"Crystal." the tough guy, whose name I now know is Bender, responded, although he did not seem to care about the essay.

"Good." Vernon said, "Maybe you'll learn something about yourself. Maybe you'll even… decide whether or not you care to return." He pointed at me. "I'm looking at you, young man in the back."

I looked up at Vernon again. "I already know the answer, man." I responded to him, nonchalantly, yet still mildly pissed with him.

"I'm sure you do." he talked back to me, with a hint of doubt in his face of me 'not coming back', since I already got on his bad side the first day I was here.

The nerd stood up from his seat. "Uh, you know, I can answer that right now sir." he said, awkwardly, yet confident, "That'd be a 'no', no for me."

"Sit down, Mr. Johnson." Vernon shot down the nerd.

"Thank you sir." the nerd sat down.

Vernon turned back to the rest of us. "My office," he pointed to the office outside the library, across from the library entrance, "Is right across that hall. Any monkey business is ill-advised."

I could see the look on Bender's face, studying from his possibly delinquent eyes, that he is going to do just otherwise. He must really LOVE Mr. Vernon. I thought to myself, smirking at him.

Vernon looks at us again, "Questions?" he asked.

I saw that the nerd looked down at his sheet, the letterman and cherryhead shook their heads, and the mysterious mess did not have any kind of motion, whatsoever. Hell, she just stared at Vernon in the same position as she did when she first sat down.

Of course, I stayed there, silent. God forbid, I ask something, and Vernon would either shoot it down, or answer in the most negative, slimy way possible.

Vernon was about to leave until… "Yeah, I got a question." Bender said. Vernon looked at him, suspiciously. "Does Barry Manilow know you raid his wardrobe?" I could hear the cherryhead and letterman stifle laughter.

"I'll give you the answer to that question, Mr. Bender, next Saturday." Vernon shot that question down like shooting down a balloon with a rock from a slingshot. He pointed at Bender again, "Don't mess with the bull young man, you'll get the horns."

Then he turned to me, "And you…" I looked up again, still glaring at Vernon. "You may think that just because you're new to this school, you can be immune from these sorts of punishments for a small amount of time." He walks over to me slowly. "You may think that detention is all about discussing your problems with me, and thinking how you should improve for the future." I nod. "But I tell you, and I expect you to heed my warning: think again." As soon as he came to my table, he leaned in, putting his left hand on my corner of the table and continued, "Shermer High is a great school, thanks to me." He points to himself with his right thumb, "And I'm gonna make sure I keep it that way…" He turns to everyone else, "By kicking all the punks and screw-ups like all of you to the curb! …Until all of you remember that by the time you all graduate, you are all equally worthless and pathetic." He turns back to me, "Do I make myself clear?"

I look at Vernon, who was filled with nothing but hate, then look away. "Yeah whatever…" I sighed.

He points to me again. "I'd change your attitude if I were you, young man." he said, darkly, "This is NOT the type of attitude I expect to hear from a new student, who, is trying to integrate from a city folk, to a more laid-back, rural kind of guy…" I look at him yet again. "You'd be sorely mistaken if you'd end up expelled from this school." he added, before walking back to the front.

"I expect all of you to write an essay by the end of the day!" he reiterated, "No less, than a thousand words…" He strutted out of the library and headed to his office across the halls.

As soon as he was out of earshot, I finally get to say something insulting about him, "Shithead…" I whispered to myself.

Bender folded his arms and turned his head towards me. "You can say that again." he told me, with a smirk on his face, "That man… is a brownie hound."

"Mmm." I muttered, looking at my sheet of paper, wondering how I can write an essay of a thousand words or more before 4:00, eight hours and fifty minutes before I get out of this place and never have to deal with Vernon again.

Everyone else was about to get settled in, because we were all gonna 'get comfortable' for the next several hours. But suddenly, we start to hear clicking noises. Loud clicking noises. We start to wonder where that was coming from, until I looked at the mysterious mess, who was making these loud clicking noises. Everyone looked at her, annoyed as the clicking kept on going. My skin was getting goosebumps from all that clicking.

Turns out the mysterious mess was clicking because she was chewing her nails. It wasn't long until she noticed the nerd, cherryhead, and letterman staring at her, mouths agape. She turned to specifically me and Bender, our mouths also agape. Nevertheless, she kept on chewing on her nails.

"You keep eating your hand, you're not going to be hungry for lunch." Bender said, his smug attitude still ever-present.

The mysterious mess chewed her nail, and then spat it at Bender, as a way to intimidate him. It wasn't surprising to see that he didn't even budge.

"I've seen you before, you know?" said Bender, studying and pointing to her. The mysterious mess turned away from Bender, ignoring his suspicions.

I looked down at my paper again, wondering what I should do to write a thousand words worth that would 'rock Vernon's socks off'. What do I care? He won't care about what I say. For all I know, he'll probably be reading it and calling the essay and I worthless.