God.

Effing.

Damnit.

I blow a strand of blue-streaked hair out of my face as I check the list again. Yep, my name is still on there, last on the list. "Young, Nathaniel". Well, that's that. I pull out my phone and begin quickly typing an email.

Hey GSA members!

Unfortunately, today's meeting is being cancelled. Something has come up and I can't make it. However, we're still on for next week at this time, so stay tuned for vice president Paulie's presentation on Aroace stereotypes in media!

Sincerely,

Your Bisexual Mess of a President

AKA Nathan

Once that's done, I hit send, and then check the list. Still there. Room 404 for detention. I turn to walk down the hall, only to find myself pinned against the wall. A young, well-built man stares at me with a sly smirk on his face before kissing my forehead. I roll my eyes.

"You really want to do this here?" I ask him.

He grins. "Only for you, handsome."

"Jake," I laugh, kissing his cheek. "Sometimes, I just cannot with you."

"That means I'm doing my job correctly," Jake shrugs, running a hand through his dark hair before glancing at the detention list on the bulletin board. "You've got detention?"

"Yeah," I grimace. "Skipped and got caught."

"Bummer. Well, I'll pick you up after football practice."

"Sounds good." Jake steps backwards, allowing me to continue down the hallway. I blow him a kiss before turning left and entering hell. AKA detention.

I spot several people already inside as I slide into a desk chair. First off, there's a ginger boy fast asleep in the back of the classroom. Or at least, he's trying to be. Because a dark-haired person with long bangs is trying to shake him awake, to which he responds with a big ol' middle finger.

I don't like to mess with Cody Crenshaw at all. That senior is someone to be feared. He looks like he's never heard of the term "sleep" in his life, and he also looks like he sure as hell wouldn't take the advice if someone told him to get some rest. Oh, he tries to, but there's no doubt that trying to nap is the reason he's here. He buries his freckled face in his baggy orange hoodie, his curly hair being prevented from bouncing by a burnt-orange beanie.

Meanwhile, Kat Sachs has not given up. I guess that's something to admire about them, though. Their fashion choice, on the other hand... Well, let's just say you wouldn't catch me alive wearing a dark gray long-sleeve shirt under a lighter gray t-shirt, beige cargo pants, and mismatched socks with sneakers. But Kat doesn't seem to care what anyone else thinks about their style, and that's respectable.

"It's a sheep cult game, Cody!" I can hear them saying. "A sheep cult."

"F*ck off," Cody grunts.

Not wanting to eavesdrop any more, I look over towards where a girl is tapping her fingers against a soccer ball as she scrolls on her phone. Her eye black is smeared, but that doesn't distract from her hideous black eye that makes one of her blue eyes nearly swelled shut. Yikes. She wears her Cyprus Park High soccer team uniform, and it looks like she was planning on making it to practice, seeing as her cleats are on. Maddie Peters is frightening, to say the least. I can only assume that she's here, based on her eye condition, as a result of a fight. I certainly wouldn't put it past her.

Next on the chopping block is a massively-built young man sitting near the door, staring down quietly at his lap. His earring sways slightly with the subtle movement of his head of brown hair as he breathes, and his brown eyes are unfocused. He sports a spiked choker as well as a chain necklace with a pentagram charm, a black sleeveless shirt, a worn red sleeveless hoodie, fingerless gloves that display his chipped, black-painted nails, black cargo pants, and thigh-high black spiked combat boots. Tyler Lawson is as emo as it gets, but I doubt that anyone saw it coming. He was a reckless but high-spirited football player last year, and close friends with my boyfriend, Jake. Rumor has it that his parents found out that he was bisexual and sent him to conversion camp over the summer, and poor Tyler hasn't been the same since. I mean, it makes sense; the guy can't even bring himself to make eye contact with anyone anymore.

I glance over my shoulder to see a girl at the desk behind me. She has her feet propped up on her desk, displaying her black heels and black jeans with two gold-chain belts, and her black leather jacket and gold chain necklaces reflect the light of the room. Otherwise, she just wears a simple purple shirt beneath of that. She also sports several piercings per ear, as well as one through her eyebrow. Her messy blonde bun and bangs swept over one eye shift slightly as she narrows her blue eyes at whatever she's seeing on her phone screen. I look away, not wanting to gain Sasha Richardson's attention. Not that she's bad news or anything, but... yeah, I'd say she's bad news. But in the best way possible. All the boys and lesbians adore her. I mean, how could they not? She's a sexy, charismatic motorcycle girl, for goodness sake! Oh, what a time to be bi.

Then, one final person waltzes into the room. Her fluffy auburn bangs bouncing in her face and her large ponytail swinging behind her, a girl in a black tank top and an orange-yellow baggy sweater that sits far past her shoulders flops into a chair. She wears a pair of tight-fitting ripped jean shorts, black heeled boots with laces, and a pair of headphones around her neck. Her amber eyes gleam with mischief as she looks around the room. Yeah, right, there's a large white snake casually dangling on her shoulders like a f*cking scarf. What a way to wind up in detention. I wouldn't expect anything less from her.

We lock eyes for a brief second, and she grins.

"Oh boy, what did the president himself do to wind up here?" she asks.

"Just some skipping, nothing big. I assume you... hm... lit something on fire?" I remark.

She smiles, stroking the snake around her neck casually. "Snooter gets antsy when he's alone."

I chuckle a little. Donna Thornborough sure knows how to be a menace. I think she's given up on trying to be like everyone else and combatted the envy with a complete disregard for social norms. Lucky for her, it pays off. Once again, I'm glad I'm bi.

About an hour later, the door is thrown open, and I glance up from Instagram to see a handsome young man in a yellow button-down fumbling with a folder and a bag. He looks like a mess as his dirty-blonde hair falls into hazel eyes, and his glasses are on the verge of falling off. As soon as he makes it to the teacher's desk at the front of the room, he quickly composes himself, opening the folder.

"Hi, kids," he says to us. "Sorry I'm late. I'm Mr. Daniels, and I'm subbing for Dr. Dunnit today. I just got informed that I was doing this, and... I wasn't quite prepared. Anyways, I'm going to, um, do role call now." He glances at the first paper in the folder. "Cody Crenshaw?"

I hear Cody grumble a response from wherever he is behind me. Satisfied, Mr. Daniels keeps going down the list, fumbling with something in his bag as he does so. My initial thought it that he's trying to mess with some sort of mini radio of sorts. But once I start to feel unusually light-headed, I begin to doubt that that's the issue.  The sound of a gentle thud startles me, and I look over my shoulder again to see that Sasha's head has hit her desk.  I turn to see Donna yawning too, and then stifle my own yawn seconds later.  I'm starting to realize that something... isn't quite right with the air quality.

And that's when I black out.

***

My eyelids are heavy, and I'm just able to make out a small, dark room that is gently bouncing me up and down.  No, it's not a room; I can hear a car.  I think I might be in the back of a van.  But just as I think that, my eyelids come crashing down again, and the darkness overwhelms me in seconds.

(1460 words)

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