I walked into detention with the smug look that I always gave teachers when I knew I was in trouble. I know it was stupid, and not uncommon, but I felt pretty cool. Today I told my math teacher, Mr. “Banana Butt” Henderson (you have to see it to believe it) that he should do his best monkey impression. He told me that he didn’t do monkey impressions. I replied that all he needed to do was teach. Before I knew it, I was out in the hallway with kids giving me high fives or trying to avoiding eye contact, knowing that what I said had already been tweeted, texted, and snap chatted.
Mrs. Pores recognized my smug demeanor and said,
“Don’t make it harder for yourself, kid.” She said it with all the most seriousness and pity. I shrugged, knowing that the four walls around me were just like another bedroom.  All I could do was sleep. Washed with white paint and covered in bad self portraits and “symbolic” tree sketches, I turned the corner and plopped in my favorite seat of the classroom, right next to the door. It even had the bubble gum I had chewed the year before stuck to the bottom of the chair. A few other felons shuffled into room 318, looking either depressed or exhausted, both were common. At least I was one of the few who looked liked they belonged. Some glanced my way, but not too many stared for long. They expected me to be here. I recognized one kid named Josh, who was also in Mr. Banana-sorry, I should really stop, but it's too funny. He was in my math class. I was perplexed as to why he was in there. Josh, a 4’11, church going freshy was in detention. Just about as crazy as seeing me in chess club, which Josh was the president of. He was quiet, a little dorky, but he never had anything mean to say. My problem was that I didn’t have enough time to say everything that I wanted to say, but as the old saying goes, some things are just better left unsaid. I knew Josh’s character, hispersonality, and his interesting appearance, and was curious to know how he had landed in room 318.

“Alright class,” Mrs. Pores began. “We all know why each and everyone of you are here, except, or course, Joshua.” Yes, our teachers played favorites. “Well as teachers we have decided to begin a program where students can get tutoring help from another student while in detention. This can help keep you all from sleeping,” she glared at me, “and doing nothing for the next hour. So now Joshua will be here to help you with any subject you want. Just slide up next to him, and he’d be happy to help.” Mrs. Pores smiled hard and long, but I knew that she was just trying too hard to investing in us. In me.
I glared at Josh to send a little intimidation his way. I was hoping he would get the “I don’t need your help” message. When he glanced back at me, he only smiled and began to tutor a girl in English, who was quick to distract herself from realizing that she was actually in detention. Disturbed, I sunk deep into my chair, and miffed at his innocence. He has no idea, I thought. I was ready to give him a taste of detention. But then my eyes began to unfocus, as my chair got warmer and my breath began to slow. My eyelashes fell over the classroom and down to darkness, where I slept and tried to picture math class without Banana Butt. Oops.
“Hey, hey, it's time to wake up,” I heard a voice say. The voice was way too high pitched to be any of my friends, and the hand that was shaking my shoulder smelled something like vanilla lotion. I blinked quickly and saw his pimpled face right in front of me. Bolting out of my chair, I jumped, catching my feet on my backpack. My legs were still half asleep when they crumbled from underneath me, and I face planted on the cold tile floor.
“Oh man,” I moaned. A few seconds went by before I came onto all fours, and then stood with much dizziness. I had just lost all the intimidation I had been wanting to expresssince detention had begun. And when I turned around, I was looking up to the president of Chess Club.

He held out his hand to help me, and once I took one look at his boney fingers and coke bottle glasses, I glared his hand away. Brushing pencil led and scraps from my faded blue jeans, I turned around to walk away when he said,
“Are you okay?” I gritted my teeth in annoyance. I had never talked to Josh before, but I knew that there was just something about him that made my skin crawl. My fingernails dug into my palms, and before I had a chance to think, I whipped my body around and gave him my best right hook. Bam! The small framed freshy laid still and shocked, crumbled on the ground. His eyes were dilated and open as far as the could be. My four knuckles flushed as an imprint on his face, and I said nothing. I did nothing. Standing over him, I did not feel intimidating. I didn't feel in control. I felt wild and helpless.
“Oh my goodness!” Mrs. Pores screamed as she ran across the classroom to help Josh up to his feet. Room 318 was filled with echoing silence, and I could feel the accusing glares stabbing into my chest. Mrs. Pores might as well have had smoke coming out of her ears, she was ready to burn me alive.
“You! Young man! You better come with me right now to the principal's office. You have a lot of explaining to do!” Grabbing my forearm, she dragged me out of detention.
After being suspended for a week, I came back to school with a note in my locker. I had never been able to apologize to Josh, nor even see him, and though I looked tough, I was drowning in guilt. My locker door squeaked with nervousness when a note fell gracefully to the ground. At first I thought it was a love letter, feeling surprised that a girl could have noticed me. Grabbing the paper, it crinkled as I opened it. It read: I forgive you. My breathing stopped, and I looked over my shoulder to see if he was around to see my watery eyes. Crumbling thenote in my fist, I quickly walked down the hall, and I spotted a trash can. I slowed, wanting to throw away my emotions, my guilt, my surprise, but my hand never reached the trash can. Instead, I let a tear fall, as I stuffed the note in my back pocket, and walked to room 318.