'cause who doesn't love a bad boy?
I never had any intention of landing in detention.
The clock above Mrs. Kierson’s desk reads . Eighteen minutes I’ve been here, my anger simmering. I slouch in my chair and tap my pencil on my desk. My calculus book stares back at me, but who feels like doing homework? I shouldn’t even be here.
The door to the library opens and Walker Collins strolls in, his backpack thrown across his shoulder. He nods to Mrs. Kierson, who merely waves him on, then dips her head over her book again. I can’t make out the title from here, but Mrs. Kierson is plump, single, and in her forties. She’s probably got her nose buried in a tacky romance, the pages dog eared over the steamy scenes. I glance at her pantsuit, circa 1996. What sort of underwear does the woman even wear? Immediately my brain answers my question with a detestable image and I fight down the rising nausea.
Walker slides into the chair beside me. “Hey.”
I glance to Mrs. Kierson. Is talking even aloud in detention? I turn back to Walker. “Hi.”
He leans back in his chair and puts his foot up on the table, like he’s at home on a sofa and not in detention. Has he been here before? He’s not a delinquent, unlike Mark Andrews, who sits behind us. I think that guy lives in detention. Walker faces me. “Never seen you in here before.”
I smile. “Never been.”
“Maddie Dryer in detention. Definitely a shocker. You’ll probably end up the front page story of the Wildcat Gazette.” A shock of black hair slides of his forehead. I’ve only had one class with Walker since Middle School. I’m surprised he knows my name.
“Maybe even the Jefferson County Times,” I tell him.
He grins. “So what are you in for?”
“I got into a tiff with my biology lab partner. Made it late to Calculus.”
“Yes.” The man is ridiculous. Most people in class hadn’t even pulled out their books when I showed up. I told him I had been discussing an assignment. He looked at me like I had burnt books and cursed education on my pilgrimage down the hall, then handed me a pink detention slip and shut the door in my face. Jerk.
Walker nods his head knowingly. I wonder how many times Mr. Jinks has sent him to detention. I turn to face him. “What about you? What’s your crime?”
"My little sister freaked out this morning because she got to school without something for show and tell. By the time I dropped her off and got here I’d missed first period."
I shake my head. "Such a truant."
The right side of his lip quirks up and he narrows his gaze at me. "It’s not the worst of my crimes". He reaches into his bag, his gaze still on me. His eyebrows arch as he snaps his hand back, flourishing an apple and a bottle of Dr. Pepper.
My stomach grumbles, envious of his snack."What are the worst of your crimes?"
He takes a swig of his soda and smiles. “Well, being late isn’t what got me in detention.”
My brows arch up. “Oh?”
He chomps into his apple, juice spraying my arm. I wait while he swallows. "I didn’t have time to take my sister back home, so I improvised, and gave her something for show and tell from my car."
Geez, a joint? A condom? My brain imagines the worst.
He grins. “I gave her my gym clothes. Told her to wear them and tell her class they were from an official member of Morris High’s basketball team"
Ew. Gross gym clothes for show and tell? "She bought it?"
"Sure, Lily’s quirky. She’ll do anything."
I chuckle. “Ok, but how did that get you in detention?”
"Well I’ll tell you Maddie Dryer." He sits his soda bottle down and crosses his arms, leaning on them, as if he's about to confess his greatest crime to me. "I have gym fifth period. Didn’t have my clothes so showed up in this." He glances down at his jeans and t-shirt. "Coach Marsden told me I couldn’t wear jeans and that I had sixty seconds to change or else run suicides all hour."
Brutal. "So what did you do?"
"What could I do? I skulked off into the locker room and came out in my underwear."
I don’t blink. "And Coach didn't like that?"
He grimaces. "I think it was more the fifth period Girls Gym Class had a problem with it."
"I can imagine."
His eyes meet mine, and he grins. I realize the slip of my words. Darnit! But without permission my eyes skim over his body. He’s cute. Not super ripped, but not scrawny like the art guys who look like they haven’t gone through puberty yet. Too bad I didn’t have gym for fifth. Walker Collins in his undies? Savory.