Young Mr. Irving with the receding hairline pursed his lips as he strode down the corridor. He’d volunteered to deliver the slip to Finnegan, wanting to check on the boy, but he’d been saddled with another delivery; to the Queen Bee. Mr. Irving slipped between students, catching a glimpse of the disappearing Carissa Faulk. A pair of seniors playing tonsil hockey against a group of lockers sailed into his visoion and he stopped, torn.

He raised a finger at the pair, “that is inappropriate…” they ignored him and he shrugged, “uh, whatever. Enjoy young love.” He made to take a step but then paused, “but keep it safe,” he added before darting off into the bustle in search of his irritating quarry.

Mr. Irving eventually caught up with the Carissa before she entered the math class.

With a smug grin, Carissa said, “yes coach?”

Narrowing his eyes, Mr. Irving held out the slip, “Detention Miss Faulk.” Mr. Irving couldn’t deny it gave him some pleasure to sentence this cocky girl to an hour of boredom.

Carissa rocked onto one foot, tugging the note from his hand with dainty fingers, “I can’t come. I have a mani-pedi on Friday.”

“you should really consider how well you know the exact day and time of detention, Miss Faulk,” Mr. Irving said, crossing his arms, “but this school caters for all. There’s an extra detention running this afternoon for the few unable to make Friday’s session. Same time and place, Miss Faulk, just a different day.” Mr. Irving turned away from her, striding away.

“But Coach!” was all Carissa managed to get out before Mr. Irving was out of hearing.

Glancing at the note on his hand, Mr. Irving navigated the halls. This slip brought him little joy. He liked Finnegan. Except for when he fought, or when he tried to, he was a good kid. Sad story and with no apparent reason for Mr. Irving’s good opinion, but all the same, there was something about him. It was like Mr. Irving’s mother used to say:

“Anthony, there’s an instinct in everyone. Yours is good. When someone gives you that funny feeling, where they don’t seem quite right, they’re the ones you got to distance yourself from. When they give you a smile, without trying, and you can see a light in them, then they’re the type you smile back at. And if they give you a fuzzy feeling, that nearly stops your breath…they’re the keepers.”

Mr. Irving couldn’t have said it better himself, though he’d said it many times since, and given the types names. Long-Distance, Smileys and Keepers. Finnegan was a Smiley. Carissa was a Long-Distance.

Mr. Irving caught sight of a speck of blood on the back of a uniform and called out,“Mr. Watt?”

Finnegan kept walking, his hands buried in his pockets, “Mr. Watt? Finnegan!” jerking back to reality, Finnegan stopped, looking back over his shoulder curiously.

“Yeah?”

“Mr. Watt,” Mr. Irving shook his head, “this is for you.”

He handed Finnegan the slip, clapping him on the shoulder. Finnegan looked at the thick red text stamped across the front, much like confidential in good conspiracy movies. This word was much less exciting.

“Detention?” he asked with a wince.

Mr. Irving shrugged, “sorry Finn.”

“But Mr. Irving,” a pained expression engulfed Finnegan’s face, “My Aunt and I are going to the cemetery on Friday and…”

Mr. Irving interrupted clapping him on the shoulder, “your Aunt told the office when they rang to notify your uncle. You’re on detention this afternoon instead.”

Finnegan winced again, “they called Uncle Phil.”

The soccer coach chuckled, “the fearsome Phil Watt. Sorry Finn.”

Finnegan shrugged uncomfortably. Mr. Irving gave his shoulder a squeeze, watching the boy as he started to move away. Finnegan Watt was a strange kind of boy, always eager to prove himself. And sad. Finnegan's parents had died when he was 7 in an earthqauke. he'd been found a few days later in a rescue effort in the basement. Now he lived with his AUnt and Uncle and their three children

"Bye FInn."

Finnegan mumbled a goodbye, starring solemnly at the detention slip. with quivering fingers, he unfolded it, his eyes darting to the 'reason/s' heading. fighting.

"Again," Finnegan added grimly.

he scrunched up the paper and stuffed it in his pocket. woith a hanging head, he slipped into biology. the teacher glared at him, eyeing him hawwkishly until he slid into a spare seat towards the back. he settled his books on the desk and cast a hasty glance at who his partner was. The lights were dimmed for the power-point presentation the teacher was ranting over and he had to squint to see his classmate. 

raising her hand to wave, Ebony pressed her lips into a thin smile. Finnegan raised his own hand after a second, shyly falappng it at her once before swivelling back to the board.

Ebony did the same, half asleep as pictures of DNA danced across her vision. when the lights flickered on, she jolted upright, blinking furiously in the light. She couldn't even remember laying her head on the desk.

"Now," the teacher, a cranky ape with salt and pepper hair, was saying, "it's nearly the bell, so I'll call the role and then someone can go around and collect your homework which i'm sure you've all done."

He gave Eric Phitz a pointed look before continuing, "Dana Abram?"

The blonde called out, "here."

Mr. Coy flinched, "let's just raise our hands shall we, I have a horrid headache."

Ebony felt an ominous feeling settle about her shoulders. He kept going through the role, glancing up to see kids raise their hands.

"Ebony Ellis?"

Ebony raised her hand, waving it around for good measure. Mr. COy glanced up, squinting behind his glasses.

"Ebony Ellis?"

Finnegan frowned, "she's right beside me, sir."

Mr. COy glared at him, "No talking Mr. Watt." he flicked his glare to Ebony, "Where were you this morning?"

Ebony gulped, "In English sir, with Ms. Smith."

"But you weren't, were you?" Mr. Coy rose, a cruel glint in his eye a he narrowed in on his prey, "It says here that you weren't in first period. So where were you then?"

on no, Ebony felt tears pricking at her eyes, but she blinked them away, "I was in class, sir, it must be a computer error."

"I don't think so," Snide Mr. Coy, "You can't get out of it that easily, Ms. Ellis."

"I was sir," Ebony turned to her class, "most of you are in Ms. Smith's English class, you must have seen me."

She looked from person to person, pleading with them to remember her. Eric Phitz had a regular blank look on his face, chatting with a pair of jocks who didn't seem to remember her either. Austin shrugged at her apologetically. Ebony had seen him scan the class room when he'd entered, but her mustn't have noticed her.  Carrisa had a cruel smirk on her face, she'd be no help. Salena Hill was furiously copying down notes and hadn't looked up this whole time. at last she turned to Finnegan. he'd been in class for a second, perhaps...

Finnegan watched Ebony scan the classroom for what seemed like a year but could have been a minute. she was desperate. he couldn't understand what she was getting so worked up over. it would just be a detention. avoiding her gaze, he looked at Mr. Coy. a frenzied look had entered his eye, a snarl on his mouth that spoke of near victory and pride at causing a child such angst. well wasn't he such a rosy man.

"I saw her," Finnegan heard the voice and swivelled with everyoen else to look for the speaker.

"Did you, Mr. Watt?"

Finnegan cringed. Foot in mouth disease, foot in mouth disease. "Sure," in for a penny, in for a pound, "she was sitting in the back row."

"Skipping class and lying," Mr. coy's grin had only decreased slightly, "they could get the both of you detentions."

"I saw her too," both Ebony and Finnegan turned to Austin with the most thankful of glances, "back row, scouts honour." When Austin winked his way, Finnegan was feeling extremely awkward until he remembered the girl sitting behind him. It was weird that she was so forgettable. He turned to see her face a tomato red blush.

When Carissa spoke it was like icicles being piercing  every muscle in Ebony's body.  

"The back row? are you sure?" she asked sweetly, turning to give Ebony a malevolently questioning smile, "I was in the back row and..."

Austin leant forward to whisper something in her ear, and she smiled brightly instead, "and i think she was in the row in front of me."

AUstin nodded, "that's right,  second back row, third chair from the left when you're standing out in front of the class."

Carissa nodded emphatically, smiling at Ebony. Ebony leaned away slightly. that girl was pure evil, what had Austin said?

Finnegan nodded furiously, "that's right."

Mr. COy turned his furious stare on Finnegan, "well then, perhaps I should correct that now so no other teachers waste time sorting it out."

Ebony gave a tiny nod just as, mercifully, the bell rang.

"Homework on the desk as you leave. make sure your names on it. if your's isn't there when i check you'll have three detentions coming your way."

as one, the class threw themselves out of their chairs, tossing books onto the edge of the desk as they filed out. Ebony threw her arms around Finnegan.

"Thankyou, thankyou, thankyou, thankyou, thankyou..." 

Finnegan laughed, "alright already, i get it. you're thankful. but could you get off, you're ruining my image as a tough guy."

Ebony laughed but only squeezed him tighter.

"no, seriously. the guy that gave me this face cracked a few ribs this morning, so you're killing me."

EBony let go with a small "oh."

"thanks."

EBony gave him a tiny smile, "thankyou so much though, my mum would have killed me if i had of gotten a detention."

"have you had too many this year?" Finnegan asked as they walked toward the door.

"no," Ebony shrugged, "but that's th epoint. Thankyou." and she disappeared out the door.

Finnegan gave a bewildered shrug, holding his workbook out to put it on the pile. Mr. Coy was bent over his laptop, muttering something to himself. with raised eyebrows, Finnegan backed out of the room until he stood in the doorway. with a malicious smile, he threw his book at the pile, knocking the precarious stack onto the floor. Then he ran.