It doesn't take much to piss me off. In fact, my most common emotion is anger or blood lust. Did that escalate too quickly? Am I being too honest? Who am I even talking to? Regardless, there's not really much I need to say to explain when you can tell I'm angry.

               I already told off those group of flab-waggers a few minutes ago—and got caught— but I should control my anger or I will most likely make this situation entirely worse. My mother will throw me off the roof of the house when she sees this one detention slip. I don't need her to take out the flamethrower when I bring in two.

               "Hey! Window Face is back from doing her chores!" One of the guys in the corner of the room announced when I walked back into the Psychology classroom, and multiple students surrounding him started snickering.

               Keep calm. Look at him with angry eyes and then go sit down.

               And don't say anything.

                My eyes meet his. "Jongup, you are cordially invited to shut the up or I will stamp your corpse and ship you to Nicaragua."

                Well, there's not much I can do to recover from that.

                My classmates start gaping. They have never heard me swear or better yet, talk back to them. Of course, I insult them whenever the opportunity is available during class discussions, but I’ve never counterattacked when others pick on me. I keep my cool and proceed to sit down. 

                Everyone’s staring at me now. I’m sitting down in my seat, looking straight ahead at the whiteboard, counting down the time until this damn bell rings so I can teleport the out of this room.

                 Jongup starts spluttering, trying to recover from the humiliation. “W-W-What was that, Window Face?”

                My sharp eyes turn to him. “Jongup, I am not in the mood. Please refrain from breathing in my direction or I will pursue the eradication of your reputation.”

                And with that, the bell rang. How convenient.

                I grab my book-bag and walk toward the door, but not before turning to the substitute and giving her a smile. “Have a great day.”

                From the way she’s smiling, she must not have heard my hostile comments from earlier. “You too, sweetie.”

               Room 101.

               I've heard stories about this room. Too many visits to this room sends you next door to 102. My eyes quickly flicker down the hall to the sign of the neighboring room. The door itself looked like someone decided to pull off a nasty prank, and by that I mean someone wiped some sort of feces against the door and no one bothered to clean it up.

               My nose scrunches up. No thanks. I don't plan on coming back to this hallway.

               My gaze returns to the door of 101 before I glance down at my slip. It says that detention begins ten minutes after school ends, and here I am, about five minutes early. Sometimes I hate my punctuality and obedience. Speaking of that, I'm totally off schedule. I'm supposed to be taking the bus right now, and in a few minutes I should be eating some white cheddar popcorn and studying for my lab practical coming up next week.

               I grit my teeth. By the time I get home, my mom will be sitting on the couch, looking through her binder for her work assignments. And she won't let me eat popcorn after five. I clench my fists.

               If I see those guys again, I will them right in the . I will—

               "Are you going in or what?" an annoyed voice interrupts. I turn to look at the person who dared to speak to me during my blood lust, only to come face to face with a guy with multiple piercings and excessive eyeliner. My lips twitch in horror at the sight and I take a step to the side to allow the guy to pass through. He frowns distastefully as he gives me a once over and proceeds to enter the room.

               What the ?

               Did he just judge me for my appearance?

               I look at him incredulously as he opens the door and closes it. Here I am, standing and gaping like an idiot at the events that just took place. Am I going to look like the oddball in this detention room? I look down. My sweatpants aren't slim fitting, but they are comfortable to move in. My shirt is a bright yellow color with a nice stripe design, and from what I remember, my hair was in a cute braided bun when I left this morning. That guy looked like he rose from the underworld!

               Just what the hell did I get myself into?

               I glance down at my watch. Detention starts in two minutes. Wow, I can't believe I've been out for three minutes, thinking about things. I guess time flies by when you are dreading for something to come. I gulp and make my way to open the door and enter.

               The first thought that runs through my mind as I look around is a giant list of profanities. A group of muscle-y looking guys are in the corner of the room, jokingly hitting each other—at least I hope— and chortling at something. There's a group of well renown stoners speaking to each other about something or another before rolling up pieces of paper and blowing into them as if they're testing them out. My eyes shift over to the provocatively dressed girls sitting around the center of the room. They were looking me up and down and obnoxiously chewing their gum before turning to one another and giggling. And worst of all, I see the group of douche-bags from the library sitting around the center as well.

               My eyes zone in on them with raw fury when I see the story teller waving at me in amusement.

               "Excuse me miss, may I help you?" I turn to the owner of the voice and make eye contact with an alarmed former teacher of mine. "Nami? What are you doing here?" He asks with disbelief.

               "Hello, Mr. Jung," I force myself to respond respectfully. "I have to serve a two-hour detention today." I was not about to elaborate why I have a detention to one of the teachers that adored me all through freshman year.

               Though, what I really I wanted to say was that the librarian is a .

               "Excuse me?" Mr. Jung's eyebrows shoot up. "What did you just say?"

               Did I just say that out loud?

               My mouth opens in panic as I splutter out some sort of recovery. "Um. What did you say?"

               His eyebrows furrow in strong disapproval. "What? Stop trying to avoid my question!"

               "What question?" I'm weak. I'm so weak.

               "You just said some very disrespectful words!" He pointed out.

               I respond in a matter of fact tone. "Actually, I said the 'librarian's account,' but you cut me off before I could continue."

               He stares at me for a few moments before shaking his head, not believing a word that I said. He angrily grabs for the detention slip in my hand and with an authoritative voice he says, "Go sit down."

               Well, today just gets better and better, doesn't it?

               "Sure thing," I respond like the moron I am.

               Why?

               Why did I say something?

               Why are all of my responses out of impulse?

               I turn around and with absolute shame, I try to find a spot to sit in. Everyone's staring at me in interest or with some sort of predatory gaze as I look around the room.

               "Is that Window Face?" One of the jocks points at me.

               "What's Miss Goody Two Shoes doing here?" Another says.

               "I wonder what she did..."

               One of the rambunctious girls wearing minimal clothing responds, "She probably forget to turn in her homework!" Laughter fills the room.

               My mouth curves downward in disgust and I clench my fists.

               And you forgot to wear clothes.

               ing .

               "Hey, watch what you say!" One of the leather jackets interjects, although it doesn't sound like he's trying to help me. It sounds more like he's trying to continue the joke. "She'll be your boss one day!"

               I finally speak up, and I gain their attention by raising my hand as if I'm telling them to halt. "Highly unlikely." I turn to the girl and narrow my eyes. "I don't plan on becoming a pimp."

               The detention room bursts into whooping laughter. The jocks are laughing so hard, that they're smacking shoulders. Everyone was surprised at my comment, especially the girl I responded to. She was gaping, just like her friends who were trying to help their friend somehow recover from this situation.

               "Excuse me?!" She furiously shouts over the laughter.

               My face is void of emotion. "You're excused."

               She gawks at me and crosses her arms. "Why are you even here? Shouldn't you be doing other people's homework?"

               I didn't skip a beat. "Shouldn't you be bending over for a teacher?"

               More laughter fills up the room. Cackling and strong breathing of those trying to recover from the lack of air. I don't display the pleasure I'm currently feeling on my face.

               She stands up and slams her hand on the desk, her face red from fury or embarrassment. I couldn't really tell. "Watch your mouth, you ing dyke!"

               I rise my eyebrows. "Dyke?" I snort loudly. "I'm straighter than the pole your mother dances on, honey."

               That seemed to do it. The class was laughing like there was no return, and the girl looked like she was ready to pounce. "That's ing it!"

               "Woah! What on Earth is going on here?" Mr. Jung was walking toward us with a fierce gaze. "Lacy, sit down! We do not resort to violence!" I snort at the girl's name. Mr. Jung turns to me with a stern expression. "And Nami, do not encourage them. You've been here for less than five minutes and you've already caused a riot. Please sit down or I will write you up for another detention."

               I scoff and intelligently respond, "They started it."

               He looks at me with narrowed eyes. "How mature of you. Sit down."

               I feel the anger pump through my veins. these teachers and their terrible timing. They know that I'm probably the best student they've had in a long time, yet they assume the worst. Sure, I destroyed the ! But some people need to learn their place.

               I gaze around the room and notice a seat in between the jocks, a few seats around the stoners, a seat between the ty tribe of amazons, and a seat directly in the middle of the room, not too close to everyone, and not too far. It honestly seemed like my safest bet from not getting jumped and or killed. I make my way toward it and sit down.

               When I sit up after putting my book-bag on the floor, it seems like everyone stops breathing. All you hear is the fan on Jung's desk as he sits down and continues to look through his magazine. I look around the room and notice the wary stares of my peers. I'm a little freaked out, but I don't show it on my face.

               Why is everyone looking at me?

               Before I can even ask someone about what just happened, the door creaks open and a tall figure walks in.

               I internally wolf whistle.

               Someone's good looking.

               He's tall, he fills out his clothes real nice, and he has faded blonde hair— almost like it's gray. He is definitely good looking and I wouldn't expect much of a delinquent attitude from him if I didn't see a familiar leather jacket on his body.

               I quickly glance to my right and I make eye contact with s from the library, only to see them smirking at me. My stomach knots up. I'm a little uncomfortable from the way things are going. I've read enough fanfiction and watched enough television to know that something bad was going to happen.

               "Nice seeing you again, Yunho," were the first words that I had ever heard from this mesmerizing male before me. Even his voice sounded smooth and perfect. The tall guy has a red slip in his hands, held out for the teacher to grab. "How's the baby?"

               Did...

               Did he just call Mr. Jung by his first name?

               "Kai, nice of you to finally join us. You're late." Mr. Jung grabs the pass and looks up with an austere expression. "Again."

               Everyone in the room is listening in on his conversation. No one dares to say a word. People look from him to me, almost nervously. I'm kind of panicking right now. What should I do? What did I do?

               'Kai' chuckles. "I had business to take care of."

               Mr. Jung frowns widely, but his eyes don't match his lips. "Go sit down."

               I was staring at the impressive build on the back of this guy that has everyone ting their pants when he responded, "Yes, sir!"

               And then he turns around.

               And stares right at me.

I appreciate you guys. I'll do my best and stop letting y'all down. I hope you enjoy this chapter. Most of this stuff has actually happened to me btw. Nami is pretty much me. When I first wrote B&D, it was to let off steam and to diss all those people who put me through hell. Actually for graduation this year, I was supposed to get a featured moment of my excellent performance in music in the speech written by the principal. However, the last week of school I snapped and pretty much destroyed the people that bullied me for the past two years. Someone snitched, and I got in trouble.

Right?

The one time I defend myself, and I get in trouble.

Whatever.

Haters are my motivators lmao saranghae

READ MY OTHER FANFICTION<3

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