Vice Principal Gunther-Hagen walked stiffly towards the library door, mentally cursing himself as he went. Nothing in his life would be worth the torture he was certain to endure the moment he opened that door. He had heard there were six of them, six sniveling little brats that he would have to make sure didn't kill themselves by the end of the eight hours.

He pushed open the door and stared at them all. They were spread out as if they didn't know each other and had no intention of doing so. This might at least make his job easier.

"All right, listen up," he barked. "You all are here on a Saturday morning, for detention. You know why you're here, and you know that it's probably not worth it to do that stupid thing again unless you want to spend every Saturday of your life dusting old Shakespeare books instead of your idea of partying."

He walked around, stopping on front of the girl who was texting. "This includes frat parties."

He walked over to the red-haired boy in the middle who was playing paper football with himself. "Ravers."

The cheerleader was next. She was even wearing her uniform and Gunther-Hagen had to try his hardest not to give a derisive snort. "Football games."

GH made eye contact with the boy wiping his glasses sitting next to the cheerleader. "Star Wars marathons."

The vice principal made his way to the blond girl in the middle of the room who was rolling and unrolling the sleeves of her flannel. "Poetry slams."

"Or whatever the hell you do." He nodded to the black-haired boy in the back who was smirking at him. "Take your headphones off when an adult is talking to you."

The boy smirked but removed his headphones. "I'd be honored to, sir."

GH had no patience for these twerps. He briskly walked towards the front of the library, assuming authority position, and clapped his hands. "You will write an essay of one thousand words, explaining in detail who you think you are and why you are here. And when I say essay, I mean essay, not a string of profanity or vulgar drawings. If your essay is not satisfactory by the end of these eight hours, you will be back next Saturday, and you'll have a lot more fun. Any questions?" He winced as the black-haired boy in the back raised his hand. "Yes?"

"Has anyone told you that you look like Sting after he got indisposed?" the boy said. The red-haired boy smirked.

"What is your name?" GH asked him, ignoring the smirking.

"Nicholas Walker." the boy said, casually putting his feet up on the desk.

"Well, Walker, I'll be seeing you next Saturday at eight in the morning. Any other questions?" He glared at the other students, who either looked at the ground or at their fingers. "Good. No talking to each other. Start writing."

He left abruptly, closing the door behind him.

NICK

I hated that guy so much it made me want to stick a sharp stick up his –

"Ahem," a voice said, above me. I opened my eyes and looked up to see that blonde cheerleader girl standing in front of my desk. I took my feet off the table.

"What can I do for you?" I asked glibly.

She looked at me, annoyed. "Why are you trying to provoke the vice principal? He might take his wrath out on all of us now."

"Hark who's talking," I said, smirking. "Little Miss Princess is breaking the rules, talking to lil' ol' me."

She flushed angrily. "I know he said no talking. I can follow the rules, unlike some people. I just wanted to know why you're being such a huge dick."

"I'm sorry, did you just say I had a huge dick?"

"Oh, my God." The redhead boy sitting a few rows ahead of me turned around to glare at me as well. "Can you lay off of her? No one's happy about being in this hellhole, you know."

"Excuse me, I was minding my own fucking business until she came up to me," I snapped. I turned to the cheerleader. "Whaddya want, angel?"

"You're such a douche bag!" The cheerleader yelled, crossing her arms.

I clapped my hands to my mouth. "Oh, no, Miss Priss used a cuss word! What are we going to do now? It's horrible! It's a tragedy!" I mimed fainting.

"Okay, you know what?" The redhead strode furiously up to my desk and slammed his hands down in front of me. "You think you're so cool? You think you're the shit and all that, sitting there in your thrift-store leather jacket with your stupid death metal music? Why can't you just lay off of her?"

The cheerleader glared at him. "Okay, who are you to protect me? I can handle myself! What, you think because I'm a girl I'm not capable of shit?"

"The guy's an asshole!" the redhead yelled. "Are you going to take his shit?"

"I think I'm the one not taking anyone's shit!" I yelled back.

"Well, you're basically a pile of shit!" the cheerleader yelled. She jabbed her finger into the redhead's chest. "And you are, too!"

We watched her stomp back to her original position and cross her arms and legs tightly. The boy sitting next to her, the one with the owl glasses and the Doctor Who shirt, looked at her nervously and back at us. The redhead boy glared at her for a moment and then stumped back to his own desk. I flipped them all off and slipped the headphones back onto my ears.

JAMES

What a fucking burnout.