Glass Hearts [BL] Chapter 22: The Good Kid in Detention

I waved goodbye to June and Marcus as they turned the corner.

"Thanks for picking up Alia," I said, genuinely.

Marcus gave a salute. June blew a kiss that hit right between my chest.

"I’ll text you if she tries to overthrow the school," June yelled.

"Or poisons our juice boxes," Marcus added.

I smiled. "She’s eight, not evil."

They both raised eyebrows.

"...Okay, she’s a little evil."

We laughed. Just for a second.

June adjusted her backpack. "Take care, Ash. And rember....don’t fall in love with the walls in there."

I chuckled, "No promises."

We exchanged one last look. And just like that, they turned the corner, leaving alone.

Then I turned around and walked straight into detention.

Technically, this was my first ti in detention.

Freshman year? Not even a late mark. No warnings. No side-eyes.

I was that kid.

The good one. The polite one.

Sophomore year?

Now, I’m Ash Rivera—"the guy who pushed Liam off the roof."

I took a deep breath outside the classroom door, then pushed it open.

The room was cold. The blinds were drawn, and everything had that weird lemon-cleaner sll that reminded of hospitals.

The door creaked as I stepped inside.

Mrs. Smith sat at the front desk, flipping through a giant stack of ungraded papers. She looked up over the rim of her glasses as the door clicked shut behind .

Mrs. Smith..Detention supervisor. Queen of laminated policies. And sohow, the only adult in this school who didn’t look at like I was radioactive.

She looked up and smiled when she saw . "Mr. Rivera. This is your first class with ."

I nodded and bowed my head respectfully. "Hi, Mrs. Smith."

She tilted her head slightly. "You’ve grown taller.."

She rembered .

I chuckled nervously.

Mrs. Smith and I had history....the good kind.

Back in ninth grade, I helped her cross the pedestrian road on the first day of school....her arms full of folders, students rushing past like she didn’t exist.

She’d rembered ever since.

"You can have your seat," she said gently, pointing to the third row.

I slid into it, trying to ignore the way the chair creaked under . I’d barely sat down when she spoke again.

"I heard you got into a fight today," she said, brushing a curl of grey hair behind her ear.

I hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah. Not my proudest mont."

"That’s the first ti anyone’s reported you for anything, Ash." She looked surprised.

I smiled faintly. "Well... guess there’s a first ti for everything."

She raised an eyebrow, amused. "Let’s hope it doesn’t beco a habit."

Mrs. Smith sighed, then handed a blank lined paper. "You’re to write a three-page essay on why fighting is unacceptable in a school environnt. Honest thoughts. Due before your detention ends in two hours."

"Got it," I nodded, already reaching for my own.

She walked back to her desk, humming sothing soft under her breath.

Then....

She paused. "Usually I make the kids scrape gum from under the desks."

I gave her a wide-eyed stare.

"But you..." she smiled gently, "you’re one of the special ones, Ash."

"Thanks," I said, smiling faintly.

Instinctively, I leaned forward and peeked under the desk.

A chorus of eww ran through my head.

Gum. So much gum. Like... generations of chewed-up multicolored secrets living their best afterlife.

"Yup. I’ll take the essay, thanks," I muttered to myself. "I’d rather write ten pages than touch that gum graveyard."

Mrs. Smith laughed quietly from her seat.

Then silence.

Only the ticking of the clock. Mrs Smith soft hum.

I stared at the blank page, and for a long second, didn’t write anything.

I thought about the rooftop.

Liam.

The blood on my shirt.

The posters.

Dominic’s breath against mine.

My mother lying in a hospital bed.

Alia trying to be brave.

And ?

Trying to hold it all together.

I took a deep breath and started to write.