Mara looked up from her book and glanced over the top of her glasses at the ticking clock in the distance. She sighed, realizing that she still had half an hour left to her detention. Carl, the boy sitting behind her, rammed his feet into the back of her chair repeatedly, causing her whole body to shake every couple of seconds. She clenched her fists tightly, holding back the urge to thrust her foot into his groin.
Mrs. Nolan cleared her throat loudly and glared at Carl. "Mr Richards, cease and desist or I'll add another week to your roster." Carl shuffled his feet back and under his own seat and slumped his shoulders, rolling his eyes. Mara flipped the page in her textbook and then scribbled down some doodles in her notebook, trying to look busy.
The minutes ticked by slowly and Mara knew that the second she got home, her parents would freak out on her. Emily Granger and her femme-gang had decided to pick on her today. Why wasn't Emily in detention? She asked herself, already knowing the answer. Well it isn't good business to put the superintendent's daughter in detention; she answered her own question.
The bell rang. Mara tossed her books into her flimsy backpack and rushed out the door. Outside of school she spotted her friend Daria waiting for her.
"Why the hell didn't Emily the strange get detention?" was her greeting.
"You know why," Mara replied bitterly, "Daddy dearest would give them less funding."
Daria scoffed, "Daddy dearest!" she mimicked. The two walked side by side through the subdivision. "Did Nolan give you homework?" Daria asked as they approached Mara's house. Mara nodded.
"Chapters 8 through 10." She sighed.
"Figures." she retorted.
The two walked up the front steps to a large suburban colonial. The cobblestone drive was wet from this mornings rain shower. Shrubberies decorated the sprawling front lawn and immaculate gardens wound their way from the front yard to the back. This was the house Mara had grown up in. Her father was a prominent lawyer and her mother had decided the pool boy was worth more of her time than her family. Mara shoved her key in the lock, letting Daria and herself in. A thick oak staircase stood before them and the smell of apple pies drifted from some of her mom's gaudy candles. She kicked the door closed with her foot and motioned for Daria to follow her up the stairs to her room.
"Mara, that you?" a deep voice called from the den.
"Yeah, Daria and I are just going upstairs to study for finals." She called back.
"I want to talk to you for a minute, please." He returned.