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At least Eric was satisfied that his plan worked, because when I walked back into class, he gave me a smirk and could hardly contain his laughter; if only he knew that I was let off incredibly easy; lunch detention wouldn't be that bad, I hoped. I hoped I would be alone and I assumed I would; just me and Mr. Mackey, so I could do my homework.

I found out how it would be not long after. The bell dismissed us to lunch and I went out to my locker to get my hoodie; I started taking it off for school, but I knew I'd want it for detention, because that classroom was always freezing according to Henrietta.

I looked around for the Goth kids before I went to detention, but only found Pete and Henrietta; I never really saw them without the others.

"Hey, guys," I greeted.

"Hey, Emma," They responded.

"Where are the others?" I asked.

Henrietta shrugged, "I don't know."

"We think Firkle went home with the stomach flu," Pete said. "But we haven't seen Michael."

"Weird," I said. "Well, I have to go to detention, so I'll see you guys."

As I was walking away, I heard Pete call out, "If you see Michael there, tell him I'm pissed."

I turned around, baffled at the tone Pete took; he never really spoke with much inflection.

"What?"

"Never mind," He muttered and he and Henrietta escaped out the door near the women's bathroom. I could've sworn they were holding hands, but I think my mind was just playing tricks on me; they hated the idea of relationships; it was too 'conformist."

I shrugged it off, though, and walked to the detention room. The room, as Henrietta said, was incredibly cold; Mr. Mackey hadn't arrived yet. There were two other kids; one in the back with dark hair and his head on his desk and then Craig. This was bound to be a homework-less day, if Craig had anything to say about it.

Before sitting, I shrugged my sweatshirt on. I sat down a few seats away from Craig and pulled my notebook out of my bag.

"Hey, Emma," And so it began.

I scribbled equations into my notebook from class today, trying to ignore him.

"Emma, look, I'm sorry," He said.

I ignored him. If he was sorry, he wouldn't have ignored me for so long and made Jimmy and Tweek fearful to be my friend.

"Em –"

He was cut off by Mr. Mackey entering the room and shutting the door behind him.

"Quiet down, Clyde, this is detention."

"I'm Craig."

"Quiet down, Craig, this is detention."

He put his head down, "Sorry, Mr. Mackey."

I heard a laugh from the boy in the back with his head down and I thought I heard, "Conformists…" But I wasn't sure. I looked back behind me. Was that Michael? He wasn't wearing his usual tailcoat; he had on a black sweatshirt. I wasn't sure, so I didn't say anything and continued doing my homework.

Not even ten minutes later into our hour detention, Mr. Mackey was already dozing off to sleep; imagine if PC Principal saw him; he seemed much stricter than the last principal.

"Will you let me explain?" Craig whispered.

I sighed, but tried to ignore him.

"Please?"

"Leave her alone, kid; she says she doesn't want to be bothered."

I turned my head to the voice in the back, knowing who it was. I was surprised at what I saw though; Michael, sitting there with his head barely up, no white powder and his black eyeliner smeared below his eyes, but not purposely. He locked eyes with me for a split second and I gave him a look of sympathy. However, just as soon as we looked at each other, he had his head back down. Something was wrong; Pete was mad at him and he didn't tell the group where he was. I was worried about him.

I sighed and put my head on my desk, giving up on doing homework for the remainder of the hour; I wanted to know what Craig had to say, but didn't want to give him the satisfaction. The school day went by in a blur, as did the afternoon.

That evening, I left the house to go over to Henrietta's. Her mom let me in graciously, she was such a different person than her daughter, and I went up to Henrietta's room. Knocking once, there was no answer. I knew that she hung out with the guys every evening and I wondered if Michael patched whatever up with Pete; I just entered, since her mom said that she was home. However, what I saw when I opened the door absolutely floored me.

"What the hell," I exclaimed, seeing Pete and Henrietta exchange a kiss.

"Oh, shit," Pete looked at me. Henrietta looked a bit shocked, as well.

"Yeah oh shit," I said. "But that's not why I'm here."

I walked into the room and sat across from them on the floor.

"What's up?" Henrietta asked, concerned.

"Michael was in detention today," I said.

Henrietta shrugged, "He is every day, though."

I shook my head, "Today was different. His makeup was smeared and his eyes looked bloodshot and he had his head down most of the time and he wasn't… himself. And I'm worried about him. Does this have to do with why you guys are angry at him?"

"I'm not angry," Pete said. "Just pissed."

I sighed, "I'm aware but why."

"We can't say," Pete said, defensively.

"Just make sure he doesn't do anything reckless," Henrietta added.

I was getting frustrated with them, but I knew that I wouldn't get anything else out of them.

"Which house is his?"

Henrietta sighed, "It's not walking distance, Emma; you can't –"

"Okay, what's his address?"

Eventually, they gave up and just gave me his address. I didn't know how I'd get there by foot, so I went over to Kyle's house to ask if I could borrow his bike; he said no because it was too late and felt bad, so I went to Butters house; he helped me sneak his bike out. It was a bit small, but still ride-able; I really hoped he wouldn't get in trouble for helping me.

I went home briefly to tell my dad that I was staying at Henrietta's and that I'd be back by morning to bring Van to school and began my journey; it was only five miles away, but walking it seemed dreadful and would've taken me two hours. By bike, it took me less than an hour because I was a fast peddler. Even with the brisk air, I still sweat on my bike, so I didn't wear makeup when I went to his house. It was odd seeing South Park's night scene; half the town was drunk and there was a concert going on that I passed by on my journey; the band didn't sound good though, but I think the patrons were too smashed to care.

Once I finally reached the house, I set the bike down, locked it to a pole, and went up to knock on the door.

It was silent and I wondered if anyone was home; it wasn't even nine yet so I couldn't imagine they were asleep; I knew he lived with his mom but wasn't sure if his dad was still around; Henrietta never specified.

I knocked one more time; I didn't come all the way out here for nothing. This one did the charm and an older man answered the door.

"What do you want, punk?" He grimaced.

"Um, is Michael home?" I asked. Part of me wondered if this was even the right address.

"What, are you one of those emo punks he hangs out with?" He asked, angrily.

I sighed. I took my hood down; my hair was already down and pretty tangled, but still nice enough to not make me look like a boy, I hoped.

"No, I was just wondering if I could talk to him…" I raised my voice an octave, hoping that the feminine act would work.

"Well, I'm sorry," He began and I worried he wouldn't let me in. "I didn't know my piece of shit son had a girlfriend. He's upstairs in his room, sulking."

I thanked him and scurried to where he said his room was as quickly as I could. Approaching the door, I took a deep breath, and knocked.

"Leave me alone, bastard!" Michael shouted; did he think I was his father? Also, where was his mother? Did they have joint custody or?

"Michael, let me in," I said, trying to sound angry but it just came out weak and worried.

I heard a click and the door opened. In front of me, I saw what I could only describe as distraught and broken. Without thinking, I wrapped my arms around him, hugging him in a tight embrace. I wasn't nervous around him this time, because my concern for his wellbeing took over. It took him a minute, his arms limp, until he finally caved and hugged me back. After we backed away from each other, we walked into his room and he shut the door.

"Why'd you come all the way out here?" He asked. "How'd you know where my father's house is?"

"Henrietta," I said and I could see his eyes grow with anger. "Um, what happened between you guys?"

"They're fucking traitors, that's what happened," He said, wiping a tear from his eye. "God dammit, crying is so emo."

"Crying doesn't make you emo," I said, trying to comfort him. "It makes you human."

"Better than being a vampire," He sighed. After a moment, he spoke again, "We all made a promise that we wouldn't start dating anyone because it's a conformist thing to do. And Pete knew how I felt about Henrietta and he just went and –"

He stopped and put his head between his knees, trying to breathe, "I'm just upset. And, Pete's pissed because I'm pissed. He doesn't understand how shitty my life is."

"It's your dad isn't it?" I said. I scooted to sit next to him, my heart beat picking up; I tried to ignore my nerves, though.

"He just doesn't understand me and he treats my mom like shit," He sighed and picked his head back up. "They just recently got joint custody and I hate it; I just want to live with my mom; my father doesn't even like me, he just does this to piss mom off and he thinks he can change me into a conformist football player before high school starts and I hate it. I just want to be myself."

"I know," I said. "I'll still be here for you, even if the other Goths are pissed off. And my friends will take you in; I know that you don't like conformists, but it's better than being alone at lunch."

He sighed, "Thanks, I just need some time."

"I understand," I stood up, getting myself ready to leave. I needed to be at Butter's house before midnight to drop his bike off discreetly and Kenny said I could sleepover since I wasn't daring to actually go over Henrietta's; I wasn't mad at her, I just didn't want to face her again until tomorrow.

"Wait, Emma," He said.

I turned to him.

"You're a good friend. I take back what I said about you being a conformist."

"You are, too. Try to get some sleep; I'll see you tomorrow."

"Goodnight."

And with that, I left, avoiding confrontation with his father a second time. Part of me, however, felt like my crazy night had only just begun.