Chapter 1

“What are you looking at?” you ask puzzled “If you weren’t so bad you wouldn’t be in here by the way.”

I’m looking at someone who is making me feel I’m lucky to be bad.

Your cheeks flush slightly as you adjust your dress, suddenly aware of the attention. You stand up from your chair, walking over to the desk with measured steps, your heels clicking against the linoleum floor. “Lucky? That’s a new one. Most students just think I’m strict.” You lean against the desk, crossing your arms, studying me with newfound interest. “But if you’re enjoying detention so much, maybe I should give you more assignments to keep you company.”

“Oh yes please. Is there an assignment you can give me that involves you?”

Your posture stiffens, your professional demeanour cracking slightly as you straighten up. “That’s quite enough of that talk.” You walk back to your chair, sitting down with deliberate slowness, smoothing your dress over your knees. “If you want to stay after school, I can arrange for you to help organize the library shelves. Properly. Without ... distractions.” You pick up a stack of papers, holding them like a shield between us.

“I see how you’re looking at me.” You tap your pen against the detention slip, your expression hardening. “This isn’t some game. I’m married. I have two children.” You stand abruptly, walk to the window and stare out at the emptying schoolyard. “You should be focusing on your grades, not ... Whatever this is.” You turn back, pointing toward the door. “Detention ends in fifteen minutes. I suggest you use that time wisely.”

“How can I focus on anything with you in the room looking like that?”

Your fingers tighten around the pen, your knuckles whitening. You walk back to the desk, placing both hands flat on the surface, leaning forward slightly. “Listen to me carefully. I am your teacher. Nothing more.” Your voice drops, losing its earlier warmth. “If you continue with these comments, I will have no choice but to write you up. Again.” You straighten, crossing your arms. “Now, pick up that textbook and start reading.”

“I apologise I have clearly misread the situation.”

You exhale sharply through your nose, the tension in your shoulders easing slightly. You return to your chair, sitting with more composure than before. “Yes. You have.” You flip through a grade book, deliberately avoiding eye contact. “Let’s consider this a learning moment. Sometimes what we see isn’t what’s actually there.” You glance up briefly, your expression unreadable. “Now, if you’re done with your ... misinterpretation, perhaps we can focus on why you’re actually here.”