Intently, my ears wait to perceive the validation of which Bender is walking with Principal Vernon down the solitary hallways whose only friends are the scraps of information obviously abandoned intentionally by pupils in order to escape the annoyance of homework.
Somehow, Mary Hall rushes into my head. Her obsession with homework is unhealthy, far too unhealthy for my liking. I know she has companions, close ones who she can trust with her life, but does she have any communication with them after school hours? Or is she bound to her best friends? She will later be educated about her most deadly fear once we leave any form of education; homework will desert her like a villain would. When that day comes, whereas most people will be overjoyed, I can imagine her stuck in her bedroom without a soul in the world to talk to. It's quite a dismal idea though in all honesty. My brain wants to refuse the notion, but the harsh reality battles with it.
In a way, I find it almost unfeasible to muse over what everyone in this school is going to be like when we finish. Due to stereotypes and judgements designed, everyone's future has already been foretold. Whether these prophecies will come true or not is an entirely different matter. I just hope that my prediction doesn't ever become a reality. I wouldn't be able to bear it if it did.
The footsteps ripen in sound; they are getting closer to the area of restriction. Soon I will have the knowledge of which Bender I have the pleasure of spending the day with.
Principal Vernon strides into the deplorable cell where the convicted will be sentenced to eight hours of no social interaction with the outside world. Outside of this room, there is life thriving at the chance of freedom. Freedom has been pillaged from the two people who are sealed in the cell for it is the consequence of their previous actions. My reason has justification to defend it. Although it screams and yells, imploring to be heard by anyone, nobody listens. Who ever does pay attention to me though? When you are entitled with a slander, it is rare for anyone to listen.
"Sit, Bender" Principal Vernon sternly commands, his arm snapping out to point at the reserved chair. There is no reply, only a high pitched whistle singing an ancient tune. Intrigued, I bend over the wooden square desk, attempting to peep a glimpse of whom Principal Vernon is addressing to.
Anticipation formulates in my whole entire body combined with other emotions. I consider this scenario like flipping a coin, and I have chosen heads. If the coin lands on heads, it will not be the Bender I dread it to be. However, if it is revealed to be tails, then everything I am accustomed to will shatter. It is the ambiguity of their identity that makes the apprehension intensify.
"Sit back in your seat" Principal Vernon growls, instantly twisting around and removing his parasite of a presence from my view as he marches out. As soon as my middle finger flicks up behind his back, the room of boredom morphs into one of amusement. Though it may seem immature, it delivers a grand sense of liberty to me.
The ear-piercing whistling matures in volume; my teeth sink into my bottom lip as the noise becomes intolerable. To make matters worse, the once anonymous first name has been exposed just by one glance into their molten chocolate eyes – it is John Bender. Accepting this fact causes the dreary future to become a failure with elements of menace.
"Aw, come on, Sir! I was just reading the beautiful posters the ninth graders made. I thought you would have wanted me to appreciate the work of minors" Bender arrives with a cunning remark. Only John Bender could enter a detention where we are supposed to be learning from our errors, with such crafty excuses.
"Garbage, Bender, you were finishing your cigarette. Even though I told you at the start to put it out before entering the grounds!" Principal Vernon accesses John Bender's comfort zone, and is not successful in the simple task of unnerving him. Bender's facial expression is neutral, exhibiting he is unaffected by our superiors method of confrontation.
"I'm not one for wasting, Sir. You should know this considering I smoke the cigarettes I haven't finished in History class" Bender retorts, talking to Principal Vernon as if he is an infant, confirming he is undefeatable when it comes to responding to Principal Vernon's challenges. It is then his eyes situate themselves onto me. Almost instantly, a smirk leisurely creeps up on his lips. "How kind of you, Sir! You brought me a hot girl!"
"Gee thanks, but you can shut the fuck up now" I smile sweetly with all of the words I spoke consisting of sarcasm.
"No more compliments for you, missy!" Bender yells boisterously in a booming voice, shooting his arm out to direct his finger at me. "And watch your language too, swearing in front of the fucking principal like that! Fucking disgusting, Miss Nightingale! You should be ashamed!"
I can't help myself but to snicker at his hypocriticalness as it originates a memory in my private thoughts of when he made an impolite but hilarious joke in our tenth grade Geography class, involving Principal Vernon, Mrs Vernon, and the Geography teacher. Why this memory springs up, I do not know. With Bender, various recollections are made known from the deepest chambers of my brain.
"And you say I won't make nothin' of myself, Sir! I got a hot chick laughing at me, that'll bring in the money!" Principal Vernon and I roll our eyes in sync.
One of the two eyes are ones of disapproval, and they belong to me. The pair Principal Vernon owns rotate in incredulity, as he has always mistrusted Bender's future. According to his own beliefs, Bender's potential in life might as well be a speck of dust – insignificant and undetectable. In his mind, Bender will end up in a short demise or a lifetime of living on the glacial streets of Illinois beseeching for a dollar just so he can feed himself. Principal Vernon's mind is a cruel place where those wishing for torture would visit. All it contains is the fatality of all the students' futures.
"Just sit down, Bender, and cut the gags. They aren't amusing anyone" Principal Vernon orders. However, the both of us acknowledge Bender will protest.
To our surprise, Bender sits down in the extra chair behind me, the legs grating against the solid floor as if objecting to the motion. There is a moment of silence where Principal Vernon and Bender enrol themselves in a battle of the eyes. Principal Vernon smiles, pleased with himself and assuming he has overpowered the likes of Bender, and begins to depart.
"Technically, Sir, Simmone was laughing" Both of our thoughts have been conquered by Bender once again. I should have known this would happen as Bender is never removed from his power. Principal Vernon freezes. His fists clench and his rapid nasal breathing can be heard throughout the whole school. "Therefore, it did amuse someone"
It was foreseen that Principal Vernon would react to Bender's retaliation as his compressed fists tighten to a new extreme, the boiling red splotches of blood forming under his skin consuming his fingers provides Bender great satisfaction.
"You have eight hours – write" Principal Vernon mutters through gritted teeth before exiting hastily.
His words bring pure realisation to me – I am chained to the notorious John Bender for eight hours – with no chance of escape. I can only ask myself one question: How am I going to survive?
Hey guys! Sorry for the long wait, but I'm so happy at the response I've gotten to this story! Hopefully, I can update quicker :)
Thank you for the reviews, followings and favouriting, and I hope you enjoy this chapter :D