Detention

I saw the bright light’s reflection as my face looked at the floor
I heard the silence of the music being replaced with the soft clicking made by my torn, unwashed tennis shoes in which I made my footsteps
I carried a text book in my arms that I had barely even cracked open
I followed the tiles on the floor that leads me to my dreaded destination
The slap of embarrassment as I enter the room that smelled of dry erase markers and the girly perfume the girl on the front row wears.
The call of the teacher’s voice as she screamed at the top of my head
The steps in the hall I know regret taking
The crowd of students staring as the teacher rants
I witness the giggling of the mercy less crowed
I stop at the desk that I should be sitting in
I touch the detention note of my desk and turn back around to exit the room





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