*end of the last class*

As soon as I stepped out of the last class, a sigh escaped my lips, which I wasn't even sure I was holding until now. Great. Just fucking great. Detention.

Well, nobody forced you to lean in and listen to her 'poem' in the first place.

Huh? Why did she write such a psychotic piece of shit in the first place?!

You don't control her idiot. She can do whatever she wants.

Doesn't matter. Its still her fault for writing that dumbass poem. I just couldn't stop laughing.

You're speaking as if you would've done it any better....

In fact, I would've.

Yes, if you'd just stop sticking up your ass in other's business, and just minded your own.

I didn't ask for your opinion! I wasn't giving any. It's just the truth.

*mentally sticks out a tongue *

---

The rest of the classes we had together, she seemed rather quiet. It was impossible to make out what was she thinking. In fact, she had on a PokerFace and refused to look at me. But I knew deep down that she was pissed. A bit too pissed to be precise.

I knew her emotionlessness was rather a façade. There were two possibilities- one, that she was angry; two, she was just embarrassed or... just both. Well, that makes it three. When I told Frank, Mikey, Ray and Bob during the lunch, they laughed their asses off. Even more at her poem.

I had actually remembered the poem and recited it to them. Weird. I know right. Ray had managed to control his laughter when he said, "you're in for some huge shit, Gerard Way. Despite the hilarity of this situation, I think what you did to her was wrong!" I had tried to defend myself, but instead my tongue just sought to retort, "Ray stop it. It was equally her fault. What are you, her brother?!"

To my surprise, he had replied to that rather giddily, "I wish I was! But she's still like my sister... so yeah, gentleman you should stop being a bastard to her!" I had snapped, "only if she would stop being a bitch to me!" Before the argument could escalate further, Frank and Mikey had stepped in by changing the topic.

---

I was now standing in front of Room no. 13. It was almost empty with only Mr. Jackson, our music teacher, sitting on the desk, busy with his work. I figured she didn't make it here yet. Heaving an audible sigh, I entered inside.

As soon as I did, Mr. Stump's head snapped up and he put his pearly whites on display. He was quite laid back and cool, just like Mr. Wentz. Well, surprisingly I liked most of my teachers; the recent exception being the bitch who did this to me. His voice filled the empty room, "Gerard, really now man? Detention? How?"

I shook my head, "It's a long-long story..." He chuckled and then pointed to a seat which seemed to be in the exact middle of the class, "okay, then you can take that seat." It wasn't even a second later after I took my seat, that a pissed off Caméllia stormed into the room.

But her expression somewhat softened when she acknowledged Mr. Jackson's presence, "Good afternoon, sir." He turned to look at her with utter disbelief written all over his face. He almost gasped, "Caméllia?! Oh my god...h-how? It's.. I- you? D-detention?"

She looked down at her feet and shook her head slowly, then sighed, "It's a long story, sir." He couldn't help but let out a slight chuckle, "That's what he said." Just then, as if on cue, her head snapped to look at me.

Her eyes displayed pure anger and disgust. She made her way to the seat right next to mine. Wait, I can sense some hidden motive behind this.... Mr. Jackson now closed his pile of work and turned towards us with his undivided attention. The sides of his lips curled up into a small smile, "Now... would anyone of you like to begin the story?"

If it wasn't for Mr. Jackson, I wouldn't have considered explaining myself to a teacher. I was about to open my mouth to speak, but she spoke first, "Yes, I would." He nodded first at her and then at me. I just decided to keep my mouth shut for a while.

Then she began, "So you see, it was English and Mrs. Simone had told us to write poems. Gerard was-" I knew after she said this, Mr.Jackson too would definitely believe her. But I don't know why... I just didn't want to screw up my image in his eyes. He was one of my favourite teachers. Heck! He taught music! My head seemed to do a double take at what came out of her mouth next....

"He was just helping me out with my poem, when Mrs. Simone snapped out of nowhere and was like 'I'm sure you'd be able to sort out your problems in detention'. She didn't even let us give an explanation." Wait... I'm damn sure she was possessed right now. Really now?

I was fucking helping her with her dumbass poem?! Why did she lie to him? Mr. Jackson gave a nod and sighed, "Oh don't worry, Caméllia. She's like that only. And she's new around here, so it might be a possibility that she doesn't know about you much. Don't fret about it Cam, I know it wasn't your fault." Yeah, there it was again.... the glorification of Miss Caméllia Jordan.

Then he smiled turning to me, "And I'm sure it wasn't yours either, Gerard." I gave him a small smile. Then there was a moment of silence, which was broken by the teacher himself, "If it makes it any better, then you can leave 30 minutes early, Caméllia. I'll take care of it. And yes, you too, Gerard." Both of us nodded in silence.

The detention was supposed to be of an hour at first, but as Mr. Jackson had cut it short. So yes, we were stuck here for 30 minutes now. At least it's better than an hour. He got up from his seat, "I have to report some documents to the principal's office, so I guess you'll be good here by yourself?" We nodded again.

I let out a sigh. I still wondered why she didn't tell him the truth....But as soon as he exited the room, she turned to me with a fierce look. She rapped her hand on my desk and spat at me, "Don't dare to think that just because I lied to him, I'll spare you." My eyes widened at her sudden outburst.

But I mustered up the little bit of courage I had and spat back, "Oh yeah? What would you do, huh?" She hissed, "THIS." And within seconds, her foot met my shin bone. I gasped, "someone's on their period." Yeah, this earned me another blow.

Enough now. I grabbed her wrist violently and started tightening my grip around it, while she twisted it continuously to escape my grasp. I spoke with clenched teeth, "that hurt now bitch, didn't it?" She spat back instantly, "no." I tightened the grip further, but just then I saw her stop struggling.

Instead, a smirk made it's way to her lips. I frowned a bit, making her smirk wider. I knew this was probably hurting her like hell, because hell! It was hurting my knuckles in retaining the grip. She spoke in a deep, husky voice, "Is that it, Getard?" I frowned some more.

Her voice was cold this time, "because this is nothing like pain. At least not to me. I've had better than this." That last sentence caught me off guard. Just then I heard shuffling of feet, an indication that the teacher was back. I quickly let go of her wrist. And she looked away from me the same instant. Mr. Jackson was again busy with work.

Seeing as I was stuck here for another 15 minutes or so, I took out my sketch pad and started doodling. I took a sideways glance at her. She had what seemed like a little black notebook in front of her, then she started flipping over the pages filled with black and red ink and finally stopped at a blank page.

She started scribbling down something on it. Although I'd hardly call it scribbling, because you see..... well, I'd just say she had a pretty good handwriting. I tried to peak in to see what she was writing.

No, Gerard. Don't.

Why not?

Because you know she'd flip.

Do you think I'm fucking afraid of her?!

Yes.

Shut up.

See you're again butting in something you shouldn't butt in.

No, I'm not.

Yes. You are.

My gaze averted to her wrist, which was now balled up into a fist as she wrote furiously. Then she broke me out of my trance, "what's your problem?" wait- Had I been staring at her? I whisper shouted, "you."

She gave me a questioning look. I continued, "why are you so damn pissed, huh? It wasn't even my fault." She looked away and muttered, "Stop being so self absorbed. It's not necessary for there to be just a single reason to be pissed off." I know I should've let that conversation die there.

But no, I just had to push her buttons, "So you're not pissed at me?" She face palmed and then shook her head. Then she let out a sigh and removed her hands, revealing a rather tired look on her face. She whispered, "shut up." And so I did. But just as she stepped out of the room into the hallway, something in me triggered me to grab her wrist and see if I had left a bruise.

She struggled at first, but I spoke sternly, "don't." And it seemed for the very first time, that she obeyed. She had a jacket on, so it wasn't possible to examine much. But I knew I had left a bruise, which was indicated by the sudden purple tint on her wrist. I spoke in a small voice, "hey, I'm sorry you know."

She didn't replied to that, nor even acknowledged it. She just pulled out her hand out of my grasp. But then I noticed something.... something that made me grasp loudly. I couldn't believe my eyes. I just froze right there.

Notes

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