Prompt: Six students, of different stereotypes, are sentenced to Saturday detention which happens to land on a very important day for each of them. While their reasons for being there are up in the air, and they might start off on the wrong foot, they all eventually find out there's more to each person than they thought.

A/N: It's a long chapter. I hope you like.

Word Count: 3,693


Part 3- Separation

Maya considered following her, but she knew that Riley wanted to be alone. She needed time, and the blonde believed that maybe she did too.

She stared at the blank lines on the piece of notebook paper she had gotten out. Who was she? Who was Maya Hart? She didn't know. The essay was stupid. How could a sixteen year old possibly know who they are? They weren't even adults yet, much less with jobs. Who could determine the person they were going to be? She was unsure about how she was going to be able to complete the assignment. She could not do it, but then risk being back in the same position next week.

She could write about herself now? But who wants to read her story? She's a trouble maker, a rebel who tags walls all over the city in the middle of the night to get her message out there, an enforcer. Some people are inspired by her work, and others think she's an insane person. All she desires is to make a difference, but how could the person she is right now make a difference in the world. People don't listen to her, other than her mother, but she's a caring woman who loves her daughter. Maya would have said her father, but he decided to drop off the face of the earth, so he listens to no one.

She thought about a place in the school where she could gain perspective, as well as kill time. "You know," Smackle began speaking, "Mr. Jackson keeps the art room unlocked, even on the weekends." The blonde smirked at the lady genius, who wasn't even looking at her, before gathering her things and heading out the door.


He dribbled the ball down the court, Zay blocking him from shooting in the process. Two feet from the three pointer line he faked left, turning back around and took a shot at the hoop, thinking he was going to miss. Once the basket was made, a smile broke out on his face and his step-brother shook his head. Two games and he had won both times. Zay had that look, and Lucas knew he was about to go into a conversation he didn't want to talk about. "You don't have to say it, Zay."

"Man, I know I'm your brother and all, and I'm supposed to be on your side about things, but why? Why attempt to get a rise out of people?" He had a point, but Lucas kept quiet. He knew why he was ass to people, but he wasn't ready to admit it aloud. "You do realize that attempting to get a rise out of people is what landed us in here in the first place?" Yeah, he was correct again.

He didn't understand his actions fully. His mother taught him better, and he knew that. He just had a problem speaking before he thought about what he was saying. "Can we not right now?" He wiped the sweat off his forehead. "I just want to shoot some hoops."

Zay gave him a long hard look, and Lucas knew that this conversation was far from over, but he wanted to avoid it until later. "Okay, but you can you can shoot without me. I'm going to grab my bag out of the locker room." He made his way down the steps to the underground.

Lucas sighed, and considered dropping the ball to go talk to him, but he stood on the three-pointer line, taking a few more shots before deciding the game was boring without his brother there. He tossed the ball to the side, heading to his locker, but his academic locker where he kept his books. He always kept an extra t-shirt in there just in case he needed one for what ever reasons. He needed to change, and then he would go talk to Zay.

Lucas wasn't sure why he knocked on every blue and red metal door, but he did, as well as fiddle with the locks. Once he found 247, he opened it to search for his shirt, which he found under his pile of books that he should have been taking home with him to study.

He took a glance at the ink covered gift the little blonde gave him earlier. She had some fire, that one. Even he had to swallow hard as her blue eyes had bore so intently in his soul. She probably would have incinerated him earlier, if she had the power to. She might have started to get annoying, but he kind of like the nicknames, even though she was making fun of him. Maya reminded him of someone back in Texas, which made being around her all more difficult.

He looked to both sides of the hall before discarding the shirt he was wearing, and just as he threw it into the locker, he caught sight of blonde hair in his peripheral vision.


Riley had fiddled with the lock to the band room several times, before she sighed in defeat. She sat on the floor in the chorus room, her back against the door, which linked to the room filled with instruments. What was she supposed to do now?

Her eyes flickered to the piano sitting in the middle of the room. Of course that would be the only instrument in here. With choral students, the piano accompanied them the most during their performances. She stood up and made her way over to sit down on the black bench and opened the case. She took a deep breath as she thought of the keys to her song, and she began to play the simple tune. She knew how to play the piano a little bit, but she wasn't as natural at it as she was at the violin, but she made it work for now.

She lost track of how much time she'd been playing, and writing down different keys on her paper, before she noticed a figure by the door. At first she thought is was Maya, but that changed once he appeared next to the piano. "How did you know to find me in here?" She asked, before she realized that was a stupid question.

He placed his hand on the smooth black surface. "Just because we're not close friends anymore, doesn't mean I don't know who you are, Riley." He motioned to the open spot next to her. "Mind if I sit?" She thought about it, and scooted over slightly for him to take a seat. His eyes examined her paper.

She stared at his face in awe. There was a thought biting at her in the back of her mind, but she couldn't seem to reach it. Instead the next words came out of her mouth without even thinking. "I'm sorry for telling Lucas your nickname."

The corner of his mouth twitched a bit. "It's okay. It was back in middle school. Doesn't mean anything now," he rubbed his finger on one of the black keys. "I shouldn't have brought up Goodie-Two-Shoes, I know you hate that name. That was a dick move."

"That name," she shook her head. "It makes me feel like I'm dumb like I'm so oblivious to the world around me."

"But you're not," she looked at him while he spoke. "Don't get me wrong, you are good, but you're not so good, that you look at everything innocently like a child. If anything, you're more aware to what goes on in the world. Plus you're really smart. Anybody who is up for a scholarship to Juilliard is definitely not considered dumb."

His response shocked her. "You know about that?"

He shrugged. "I know that you have a concert tonight, and two representatives will be attending," he glanced at her. "I'm sorry that Maya forgot."

She looked away. "I can't believe she did. The concert is all I've talked about for the last couple of months. How could it have slipped her mind?"

"Well I don't mean to sound rude, but all of that smoke she's been inhaling might have fogged her memory," he stated. It made sense. Maya had a problem and she was aware of it, but did nothing to solve it, no matter how many times the brunette had mentioned she didn't approve of her coping methods. "I don't get it. How did Maya go from this really happy person to a complete stranger?"

Riley fiddled with the end of her jacket. "When her dad left last year, it was really difficult for her." His eyes widened, telling her that he must not have known about the situation. "She didn't talk to me about it for a while, but she couldn't sleep in her own room for the longest time, so she stayed with me. She went through this mini depression and she found a result in cigarettes and … other drugs …" she sucked in her cheek. She didn't realized how difficult it was to talk about, even though it wasn't her own personal situation. "She also found this group of friends, not close friends, but 'art' buddies that got her into tagging building for fun. I mean, what they're doing is inspiring, because their motives to make the world a better place is what we need to hear and to see, but it's illegal and she could go to jail for that. And I'd hate to see her behind bars just because she's using her incredible talent for those purposes."

Farkle said nothing for a while. The thought that had been tugging at the back of her head finally came to surface. The natural sunlight coming in through the huge windows in front of them brightened his face. The way he moved his jaw created a more defined line. It was his serious expression that took his boyish features and matured them. She could still see the freckles that dotted his nose and a crease on the bridge that looked like glasses had been sitting on his face. But he didn't wear glasses, did he? Nonetheless, Farkle was no longer the geeky boy he was in middle school, he was growing up, and very nicely Riley would say. She was shaken out of her thoughts when he asked her a question. "Um, what?"

He looked like he wanted to smile, and she realized that he might have caught her staring at him oddly. "I asked if that was why you were in here?" She bit her lip. "I know you're not only upset with Maya because she forgot about the concert, but you got in trouble because of her."

Riley looked down and nodded slightly. "I was dropping something off to her after class and she texted me to let me know she was on the fifth floor. I thought that was odd because it was the entrance to the roof, but I went up there anyway and Mr. Baxter, walked up to check on the hydroponic plants he had up there, and saw Maya finishing up her graffiti art and I was right next to her handing her, her bag she had left in my dad's class the previous period. He thought it was a bag full of paint, though it wasn't, and he was going to call the police, but he decided to give us Saturday detention instead, because he liked her art, but thought we still needed to be punished. I told him that I had nothing to do with it, and Maya told him too, once, but he didn't care. I was still there, in the middle of the act."

He shook his head. "Baxter's a dick," his voice was low. He placed both hands on the keys, and began to play a familiar tune. "Doesn't care for people too much. He thinks that science over rules emotions. It's why he's not married, nor does he have kids," his fingers glided across the keys smoothly, and though he wasn't paying attention to what his fingers were doing, he was a very good pianist. "It doesn't matter how smart you are, how talented, or how good, he just doesn't get people."

Her eyes followed his hands on the piano, and her ears followed the melody. "Do you believe that?" She asked. "Do you, as a scientist, believe that science over rules emotions?" She turned to look at him, and realized how close they were sitting. Nose to nose, she could see golden specs in his blue irises. He exhaled a small breath and it hit her face, and she could hear him gulp. She noticed that he stopped playing.

He stared at her as she anticipated his answer. "Absolutely not."


Walking back into the library, the clock on the checkout desk read 10:07. Zay shook his head. they had only been in here for a couple hours. It was ridiculous. What was more ridiculous was the fact that Mrs. Knows thought she could get all of them to tell her who they thought they were. It was a game.

From what he was told about the old lady, was that she didn't like kids. Or she didn't like this generation of kids. Zay could understand to a point. This generation had a bunch of loons walking around, but that didn't mean that all of them were like that. Everyone has a reason for the way they act. She doesn't know their backstory. She doesn't know what's going on in their lives. How could she? Mrs. Knows just doesn't know.

Zay took a seat behind the pretty smart girl. She had her nose stuck in a calculus book, while three other, non-high school text books were sitting off to the side. She had highlighters and pens scattered everywhere, an advanced calculator and some measuring utensils sticking out of her bag. She also had three notebooks to the side, and one open and in front of her. This girl might have looked unorganized at the moment, but Zay believed she was a structured person.

A thought came to mind and getting up out of his seat, he walked over to sit in front of her. She barely glanced up from her notebook, but he caught a glance of her dark eyes before she went back to calculating formulas. He was right though, her notes were organized and detailed, even color coded and everything.

"Do you always study?" He asked.

Without stopping her writing, she said, "No, I do not always study. I eat and sleep too."

He smirked. "You know what I mean, but I like your sarcasm." He fiddled with the spine of her Humanities book. He wondered if she was taking college classes. He glanced back up and noticed she stopped what she was doing to look at him. For a moment he wished she would have gone back to doing what she was going before, because the way she examined him made him cautious about what to say next.

"No," she stated and he raised his eyebrows. "I know it may seem like I study a lot, because I am the smartest girl in the school, with over a 4.0 GPA, and taking duel-enrollment classes but I'm also very popular. Which means I attend parties, and other social events. How else am I supposed to maintain an image if all I do is study?"

He nodded slightly, trying to understand her. Though he was a jock, he wasn't the most popular, unlike Lucas. He wouldn't know what it's like to maintain an image, because he already had an image, and in the eyes of other people, it wasn't a very good one. "You have a point, but I haven't really seen you around, so I wouldn't know. I'm sort of new to the school. And that comment also sounded bit conceded."

"I'm not conceded. I'm just stating a fact. And yes, you're Zay Babineaux from Austin, Texas. You're Lucas's brother," she noted. That was the first time anyone had referred to him as Lucas's brother. It was usually step-brother, with an emphasis on step. No one knows what happened. They just assume. "You play second base on the Varsity baseball team. You're number is 27."

He shook his head. "How do you know all that?"

She smiled. "I write for the school newspaper, so I've attended all of your games. You're good player."

"You write about sports?" He narrowed his eyebrows. She didn't look like a girl who knew anything about the game.

Isadora shrugged. "I write three different columns. We were short-handed on one of the sports columns and I told Mr. Townes that I would take baseball, because it's the sport that I'm most familiar with. My second cousin Alex played professionally, so my brother and my dad get really into the game around season time. I guess hearing the terminology for so long, I've become familiar with how the game is played."

"Who's your cousin?" The boy asked. Her face looked to the side, and she looked like she was going to regret telling him. So he must have been a pretty big deal. Zay thought about all of the professional baseball players named Alex from New York City, and only one came to mind. "No way," he stated. "Alex, as in Alex Rodriguez? A-Rod? .297 batting average, 2,000 RBIs—"

"696 home runs and 3,000 hits," she nodded, "yes, he's my cousin. I'm assuming you're a fan?"

His mouth dropped. "He played for the Texas Rangers at one point! Lucas and I are huge fans of Alex! He's one of the greatest baseball players of our time!" She leaned back in her seat. His reaction must of been how everyone reacted. He changed the subject. "I think it's pretty cool that you write for the paper."

"I enjoy writing it," she tapped her pen on the table.

He bit the inside of his lip. "You think I'm a good player?"

She nodded. "Yes, you're an excellent player. You're very quick on your feet, and you have good communication skills, especially since Lucas plays shortstop. Plus, you have a good eye on the ball when you bat. It's no wonder Coach has you as a designated hitter sometimes." She studied his expression. "You don't think you're good?"

He shrugged. "Baseball is a big deal in the Friar household. And because I'm apart of their family, it's a lot of pressure. Because I know that I'm not as good as Lucas, and I might not ever be, but I still want to live up to the expectations of a Friar." He rubbed his lip before putting his elbows on the desk. "I love the game and I love playing, it's just not fun when you feel the pressure like that."

Her expression was very hard to read, and he couldn't tell what she was about to say. "Is it okay if I ask you what happened?" Her question sounded critical. His face dropped. "I saw what happened yesterday in the hall. Blaine is a jerk. Though it was wrong of Lucas to punch him in the face, his motives were heroic."

Zay had face a lot of discrimination being a black living with a white family. In Texas, it didn't seem like a big deal, because everyone knew about their situation, and they knew how close Zay was to Lucas's family, prior to what happened. Here in New York, some people thought the situation was odd, and he had received a number of looks. Nothing was said, until this kid name Blaine made a scene in the hall yesterday, throwing out some vulgar words and comments towards Zay and Lucas's direction. Anyone who knew Lucas, knew that he had an aggressive side to him. His temper was short, and he was quick witted. It's what got him kicked out of school for a year back in Austin (Yeah, Lucas was supposed to be a year ahead).

Blaine, whose voice kept getting louder and louder, until the hall had all eyes on the scene. Zay learned that when people get like this, he would just blow them off, knowing that they were attempting to get a rise out him. He told Lucas to let it go, but of course he didn't. He ended up shoving Blaine against the lockers, and eventually punching him in the nose. One of the teachers directed all three boys to the office. Zay thought the kid would be here today, but knowing Lucas had broken his nose, he might have been icing his face somewhere, avoiding to seen.

"My parents died about a year and a half ago," his voice was low. Her expression softened, and conflicted. "My dad was in the Air Force. Flight instructor. He and my mom went out one night to a dinner with some old friends that he was overseas with, and their wives. Lucas and I went out with some friends down the road. They had a bon fire going, music playing, like any normal Friday night. We came home around midnight? Maybe a little after. After seeing those police cars parked outside my house, I don't think I've ever felt that scared. It was late, and my parents were on the main stretch, about five minutes from home when they crashed," the rim of his eyes outlined in tears. He thought to himself that he was not going to cry in front of this really pretty girl.

She shook her head. "You don't have to finish," she said so softly, almost as if she was terrified to hear more. "I'm so sorry, Zay."

"Lucas is closest person I have to a family. They took me in, and now I couldn't be more grateful for them," he concluded.

She nodded, wiping a tear that had fallen down her cheek. "Just remember Zay, you're not a Friar by blood," she smiled slightly. "You don't need to live up to the expectations of a Friar. Set the standard for a Babineaux. Because the one I'm looking at right now is pretty great."


Preview of the next chapter:

"So you just gonna wait for me to put on my shirt before you walk by?" Lucas asked from his locker. She glanced around slightly catching him putting on deodorant from his gym bag.

Maya rolled her eyes. "No, I was giving you a moment with your mirror," she teased.

She could hear him chuckle, before he appeared around the corner with a coy smirk on his face. "I don't have a mirror."