Chapter 17

Detention at Capitol Hill High School, like every other high school in the U.S., had always been a punishment by boredom. It was the kind of administrative solution that satisfied nobody but fulfilled the bureaucratic requirement for consequences.

Jason inherited detention duty the way some jobs were handed out in the military, not because he’d volunteered, but because Vice Principal Kim Jenkins knew he could handle it. “These aren’t honor roll kids,” she’d warned him. “Some of them are there for fighting, some for drugs, some just for chronic disruption. They need supervision by someone they can’t intimidate.”

For the first few weeks, Jason ran detention by the book. Silent study time, no talking, no phones—just ninety minutes of quiet misery designed to discourage repeat offenses. These weren’t bad kids. They were bored kids, frustrated kids, rebellious kids, many of whom who had checked out of the traditional educational process.

The transformation began accidentally, on a Thursday afternoon when Steve Walker—a junior who’d been in detention six times already this semester—broke the silence.

Steve was a good kid with an overdeveloped sense of humor and showmanship. He was the class clown. It made him popular with the other students, not so much with the teachers. Hence his presence here in detention.

He looked up from reading Gary Paulsen’s book Hatchet. “Mr. S, this is fucking stupid.”

“Language, Steve,” Jason said mildly. “What should we do instead?”

Steve seemed surprised by the question. “I don’t know, man. Something that wasn’t a complete waste of time?”

Jason considered this. Steve was actually one of his better students during regular class time—smart, engaged when the material interested him, but apparently unable to navigate the social dynamics of high school without clowning around.