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Eyes closed and head down I tried to figure out how the hell did I get myself in detention with only two weeks of school left. The blame could easily - and I mean easily, go to Griffin but Principle Howard insisted that it was my fault because I threw the first punch. Little to Principle Howard's knowledge I witnessed Griffin roll around saliva in his mouth before spitting it at Ethan's head.

I may not be the friendliest person at Colonial High but bullying was something I never tolerated. I hated to see it and I hated when it was done to me in elementary. Once my older brother Cas taught me how to stand up to my bullies, they left me alone. Granted, my string of suspensions began at the early age of nine and my parents threatened to send me off to boarding school more than once but word quickly got around and I was left alone.

I wasn't pissed that I had detention instead of Ethan. I was pissed because Griffin somehow weaseled his way out of it . . . again. That douche created trouble almost everyday and yet somehow managed to never actually get in trouble. Those who were not blind knew that Principle Howard was currently dating Griffin's aunt and trying to stay in her good gracious.

Either way it didn't matter why I threw the first punch since my parents thought I was acting out and getting in trouble so much because of Cas' death which was the exact opposite. I stopped talking to people because of the sadness in their eyes. The way they would try and read into my silence as if I would just open my mouth and spew all my feelings over their shirt. Most of all I hated the way they would stare at the way I hid my arm.

My brother's death did a lot of damage to me but Ethan is my friend. He may be a skinny little dork that can't see without his thick bifocals and carries almost all of his books for every class so he doesn't have to stop at his locker, but he's my friend.

Ethan and I met a month after Cas' funeral. I had witnessed Griffin trip Ethan making his stack of books fly everywhere and no one moved to help. The fight ended rather quickly due to a few teachers that were walking by and according to Griffin's words to my parents and the principal, he didn't want to hit the kid with one arm whose brother just died. 

Yeah the fuck right

Ethan was in the library when my punishment was to come to school early and help our librarian organize the shelves and do anything else she needed. After peeking at me through the shelves I may have yelled at him to stop looking at me but then he stuttered a thank you and offered me a ride home. Two years later I can still call him my best friend.

"Mr. Crawford lift your head please." Our detention teacher, Mr. Santos ordered lazily. He sounded exactly how I felt. Tired of being here and it had only been thirty minutes.

Holding back a groan I did as I was told lifting my head. Rubbing over my face with my normal hand I felt the jagged scar from the accident at my hairline. My everyday reminder that I was a walking murderer.

"I'm going to the restroom." He leaned back in his chair making it squeak as he took his time getting up. "Don't leave or I'll give you an extra week of detention." He warned us all pulling his black slacks higher but still under his gut. "Watch them for me Ms. Marshall."

Watching Mr. Santos leave the room I turned around stretching out my legs a bit to look at who Ms. Marshall was. One row over and three desk back there she sat. Elbows on the desk, knees together, ankles crossed with a pencil in her left hand Ms. Marshall looked like an elegant princess.

Turning in my seat so that my back rested against the armrest of the desk I rested my chin on my thumb rubbing my bottom lip with no shame in getting a better view of her. She was beautiful and she knew there were eyes on her by the way her pencil moved from a rapid speed to something similar to a turtle before it stopped all together. Her eyes slowly raised to mine stirring something low in my stomach and heat across my skin.

They were brown. A light brown like amber. A beautiful amber brown that went perfect with her brown skin as if she was made with time and delicacy. Her lips were full and pink yet shiny with some kind of gloss. Maybe chapstick, perhaps lip gloss?

She wore the school's white collared uniform shirt with the dark navy jacket even though it was hot outside. Brown ankles crossed with black pants cuffed nicely into capris I noticed she wore an ankle bracelet that was neither silver or gold but a colorfully woven blue, black, white, and pink anklet.

"Did you need something?" She asked tapping her eraser on the desk clearly irritated by my staring.

"Nope."

Nodding her head she went back to doing whatever she was previously doing, her pencil moving back to its high speed. It was nice to see that she was left handed. There weren't many lefties in our school - not that I'm one of them, I just think it's cool to be left handed and the fact that you can win a scholarship for being left handed is pretty awesome.

Lifting my eyes from the way she held her pencil back up to her face that seemed vaguely familiar I tried flipping through my mind of female faces with pretty brown skin. Looking over the rest of her while continuing to come up with nothing, I nodded in appreciation of her curly hair pulled away from her face with a black headband. Three piercings in each ear she wore a pair of studs and two sets of golden hoops, one pair slightly larger than the other.

Her pencil suddenly stopped making me look back into her amber eyes that were now narrowed with a hint of getting pissed off. "Do you need something?" Smirking to myself I rolled my snakes bite piercings under my teeth enjoying that my reading of her attitude was true. Sitting back in her chair Ms. Marshall crossed her arms tilting her head to the side making sure that I knew she found me irritating. "Why are you staring at me?"

"I find you fascinating." I answered honestly . . . well partially honesty. I could have said that I found her to be beautifully elegant, that her lips look soft and kissable but I preferred not to get slapped. At least not before learning her name.

Moving her head back she looked at me as if I was odd and I expected that. The two different eye color was the first thing people stared at then, my lip piercings before questioning why I always kept my left arm in my pocket. Fighting to keep from breaking out into a full grin I tugged on my lip rings using the pain from my cut lip as a distraction. "Take a picture then and stop staring. It's weird."

Digging in my right pocket I pulled out my phone tapping the camera app patiently waiting for it to focus on her. "Ms. Marshall?" Just as she looked up I took the picture smirking at her shocked face once I lowered my phone.

"Did you really just take my picture?"

"You said I could."

"I didn't -," she scoffed closing her eyes for a fraction of a second, " - you know what? Whatever. Just turn around and stop looking at me."

"You look familiar."

"You think so?" She rolled her eyes tapping the eraser to her pencil on the desk. "I figured going to the same school didn't have anything to do with it."

"Funny." I tilted my head left and right trying to place her face. "I've never seen you here before but I've seen you. Help me out some. Do you we know each other? Were you my partner in something?"

"You're going to have to figure that out on your own Lars."

"So we do know each other?" I smiled feeling like I've gained some leverage. Sitting up to ask her another question Mr. Santos opened the door walking back in to take his seat.

"Thank you Ms. Marshall." He said nodding to her.

"You're welcome."

For the remainder of after school detention I continued to watch Ms. Marshall not caring that she covered her eyes as if it were a visor. There was really no point in her trying to hide. She knew I was staring and I couldn't help but stare.

Of course I've seen people of color before I didn't live under a rock but Ms. Marshall was something different. It was just pissing me off that I couldn't remember her face. I had to have known her from somewhere else other than school.

Once Mr. Santos gave his speech about becoming a better student, how we need to stay out of trouble and think about our future, he dismissed us. Making no move to get up I watched Ms. Marshall smirking when she looked at me, then again when she stood to put her things away, and once more before she headed for the door.

Standing up I stretched with both arms above my head until my back cracked. "Mr. Crawford, a word please?"

Wanting to roll my eyes I held off taking a seat on the edge of my desk. "Yes Sir?"

Mr. Santos was a heavy set man that wore cartoon ties every Friday. He was a nice teacher, a guy I could trust to not hide my arm from. I honestly didn't have a problem with him but I already knew what he wanted. Mr. Santos and I saw each other more often in this situation than we both wanted.

Once the room was cleared he leaned forward checking the door entrance waiting a few seconds to huff in disappointment. "As much as you may like to sit in after school detention and stare at my charming face I'm tired of seeing you in here Lars. Coach Henson isn't going to tolerate this much longer."

"Coach Henson is only keeping me because I'm the brother."

"That's not true Lars. You are just as good at baseball as Cas was if not better and your arm -"

"Don't." I seethed through clenched teeth. I wasn't at the point of speaking my brother's name aloud to others yet. Just hearing someone else casually say his name made the hairs on my neck stand up and the guilt fill my stomach like acid.

Shaking his head Mr. Santos leaned back in his seat exhaling. Memories of Cas and I tossing the ball on the school's baseball field played in my head. He was the best pitcher in the city. He worked hard in school and played harder on the field. Standing on his mound nothing else mattered to him. He could block it all out leaving just him and the catcher. Not the cheering parents, not the screaming girls from the softball team that loved him, not our dad screaming for him to focus, not his teammates in the dugout . . . nothing.

"Lars!"

"Huh?" Relaxing my fist I took a deep breath shaking off the memory.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine Mr. Santos. Are we done?" Standing up shoving my hands in the pockets of my uniform pants I waited for him to say yes.

"Go ahead and get out of here kid and I better not see you in here again Mr. Crawford." Grabbing my bag I headed for the door when I heard him call after me. "And stopping wearing that hoodie under your jacket! It's against the school's uniform!"

Yeah right

Walking out the classroom I turned the corner smirking at the girl just down the hall with one foot in her locker. Her dark purple backpack rested on her thigh while she flipped through a black binder before tossing it in the bag. Zipping it closed she pushed her arms through the straps getting ready to close her locker when she paused going back for one last item.

"If I didn't know any better Ms. Marshall I would think that you were waiting just for me." I said nearing her.

Closing her locker she scoffed twisting the combination lock three times. "You wish." She replied before walking away.

Debating if I should catch up with her just to see what all she would say I decided against it wanting her to think about our encounter today as most girls do. Go home, lay in the bed, and analyze if my actions towards her was flirting or not.

The girls I went to school with were pretty predictable. You had the girls that liked the popular guys, such as Griffin and his stupid friends. I prefer to stay to myself with the exception of Ethan and possibly Ms. Marshall if she would let me. Anyway, you had the popular girls that usually stayed with the popular guys. There were a few that didn't care about their social status and dated whoever they wanted to whether popular or not.

The school tried to classify me as a bad boy mostly likely because I was related to Cas and the multiple fights I had been in but that wasn't who I really was. Yes, I've been suspended and have been sent to detention and after school detention so many times that it could be considered a second home but they all have perfectly good explanations . . . Griffin.

Griffin was the popular jock shithead. Him and his douchebag friends liked to pick on kids like Ethan and I wasn't down with that. So if standing up for Ethan made me a bad boy in silly hormonal girl's eyes then whatever. Girls give me more attention then I'm comfortable with nowadays. Freshman year was fine. I had my big brother to help me out teaching me how the females at Colonial High work. They flirt, you flirt, they flirt some more possibly offer you something better than what your hand can do and then you move on. Cas was a big player and very popular but I . . . I . . . I don't know. Having sex with the entire school by the time I'm a senior isn't my thing. I mean I've had sex. Like I said, freshman year was when most of my sexcapades went down but after Cas's death it all took place on the back burner. I had more things to worry about over screwing someone new every Friday and Saturday when I was fighting with my inner demons ready to take my own life for causing my brother's death.

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