FicWad

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I watched the others crowd around the lunch table, looking at whatever Pete wanted to show them. Pete, one of the seniors, always wanted to show off what he’d found or seen. Maybe he just liked the attention. In my opinion, he talked way too much for one person. Frank was the only other person (and sophomore)- apart from me- who still sat at his respective table, glancing at the others disapprovingly often. He pushed his food around with his fork, mixing it into something that looked borderline inedible. His black-dyed hair stuck to his face, his hair glistening in the sunlight. Afraid of being caught staring, I furtively look away, down at my notebook, that was falling apart at the seams.


The walls were a dull, sickening yellow with paint peeling off at the edges and numerous marks on the walls. The lunch tables looked and felt like they were falling apart (what else would you expect?) and the chairs were flimsy and plastic, like ones you’d see in a kindergarten classroom. The amazing perks of public school, I know.


I looked over again, my attention caught by the loud bang that was caused by Pete stepping onto the lunch table. He likes to wear these black boots that are too loud against the linoleum floors. He was grinning, looking down at everyone gathered around. I closed my notebook, picking it up and carefully setting it in my hoodie pocket with mild interest.


“Yo!” He waves his arms up in the air. “Who’s with me and skipping this detention?” His voice rang out into the cafeteria, echoing off the wall. It was loud, too loud in my opinion. I glanced around nervously, expecting the teacher who was supervising detention; Mrs. Bacher, to storm in here and reprimand him. Though, I suppose that wouldn’t be such a bad thing.


Hearing the cheers and sounds of agreement, Pete seems pleased with the (mostly) positive reaction from the rest of his ‘saturday detention friends’. That’s what Spencer referred to us as, since we usually always were in Saturday detention for one reason or another. It’s become a habit now, and that’s what we’re known for. I really wish I wasn’t just known for that though. It paints me as a troublemaker, and it feeds into their theory that I’m sick in the head. In my opinion, the label is stupid and irrational. All of them are.


I wish Spencer was here. He was rarely in Saturday detention, being the ‘role-model’ he is. I wonder, if they knew what he did in those bathrooms during class, would they send him here too? Or would he get it worse?


Cringing at memories I’d hoped to forget, I focus on Pete now. I was incredibly bored, and If there was something I could do to cure my boredom (and save myself from cringing at stupid memories even more), I’d do it. Even if that means following along with one of Pete’s stupidly dangerous ideas. And, it would suck to have to try and explain to the teacher what happened. And having the others pissed at me for snitching. If there was one person you should avoid, it would be Pete when he’s pissed at someone. It never ends well.


Pete jumped down from the table, beckoning the crowd with his hand and jogging down the hallway, grinning like a maniac. Absent-mindedly picking a piece of the table off, I slowly up and trail behind them. I’m just hoping nobody does anything stupid enough to get us hurt.


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