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| Detention Table Four |
Collins pushed the door open like he'd done it a hundred times before—because he had.
The room smelled like dry-erase markers and old paper. A few desks scattered around, a clock ticking louder than it needed to. Mr. Hendricks sat at the front, grading papers with the enthusiasm of someone watching paint dry. Three other kids were already there: Marcus with his headphones in, pretending to do homework; Jenna doodling on her arm; some freshman staring at his phone under the desk.
Same as always.
Except—
There was a girl sitting at Table Four.
Back straight. Backpack zipped. Not on her phone. Not slouched. Not trying to disappear either. Just sitting there like she didn't belong in the room at all.
Collins let the door swing shut behind him.
"Well," he muttered, just loud enough, "this is new."
Mr. Hendricks pointed without looking up. "Table Four, Collins."
"Yeah, yeah."
He headed over, dragging a chair just enough to make noise before dropping into it across from her. Leaned back. Took his time.
She didn't look up at first.
Collins tilted his head. "You lost or something?"
Her eyes lifted—steady, not scared. Just annoyed. "Do I look lost?"
"Little bit."
She held his gaze a second longer than most people did. "Do you always talk to people like that?"
"Only the ones who don't belong here."
"Maybe you don't know as much as you think you do."
He shrugged. "I know you're not supposed to be at Table Four."
"And you are?"
"Regular," he said easily. "Got a punch card and everything."
That almost made her smile. Almost.
Across the room, Leon snorted at something on his phone. Mr. Hendricks glanced up, sighed, then went back to his papers.
Collins leaned forward a little. "So what'd you do?"
She hesitated. Not long—but enough.
"Wow," he said. "That bad?"
"It's none of your business."
"Yeah, that usually means it is."
She exhaled through her nose, like she was deciding whether he was worth the effort. Finally: "I helped someone cheat on a test."
Collins blinked. Then leaned back again. "That's it?"
Her expression tightened. "That's not nothing."
"Nah, I didn't say that. Just doesn't really fit the whole…" He gestured vaguely. "…you."
"You don't know me."
"Working on it."
A beat passed. Jenna shifted in her seat, scrolling on her phone, the silence stretching again. Mr. Hendricks didn't even look up.
___
“So what’d you get out of it?”
She gave a small shrug, like it didn’t matter. “Concert tickets.”
He laughed—quick, automatic. Then stopped.
“Wait.”
She didn’t smile.
“You’re serious?”
He studied her for a second, like he was trying to figure out if she was messing with him.
Most people would’ve cracked by now—smiled, rolled their eyes, said they were kidding.
She didn’t.
Just sat there, arms crossed a little tighter now.
“Wow,” he said, quieter this time. “Didn’t think good kids sold out for that cheap.”
Her jaw tightened. "And I didn't think troublemakers cared what anyone did."
Silence.
Leon pulled his headphones down. "Yo, Collins—you really mess with the announcements yesterday?"
Collins didn't look away from the girl. "What do you think?"
"I think it was hilarious."
"There you go."
Leon grinned and put his headphones back on.
The girl was still watching him. "You did that prank? The one with the PA system?"
Collins shrugged. "Everyone thinks so."
"That's not an answer."
He didn't respond.
She watched him for a second longer this time, really watched him.
“No,” she said slowly. “You didn’t.”
He glanced at her. “What makes you so sure?”
“Because you would’ve said it already,” she replied. “Or at least taken credit properly.”
A small pause.
“And the way you’re talking about it…” She shook her head. “That’s not how someone talks about something they actually did.”
Silence.
“You didn’t do it,” she repeated.
He looked away, toward the window. Outside, a few kids were heading to the parking lot, laughing about something. Free to leave.
"People expect me to be the guy who does stuff like that," he said finally. "So I let them."
"Why?"
"Because it's easier than being the guy who doesn't."
She sat with that for a moment. "That's not true."
"So's pretending you're still the good kid who never messes up."
That landed. She looked down at her hands.
"I didn't mean for it to happen," she said, quieter now. "She's my best friend. She was freaking out about the test, and I just… I thought I was helping."
"For concert tickets."
"It wasn't about the tickets."
"But you took them."
She didn't answer right away. When she did, her voice was barely above a whisper. "Yeah. I did."
Mr. Hendricks stood up, stretched, and walked to the back of the room to refill his coffee mug.
The freshman took the opportunity to fully pull out his phone. Jenna kept doodling.
"My mom's gonna ask if I prayed about what I did," the girl said suddenly.
Collins glanced at her. "What are you gonna say?"
"I don't know."
He nodded slowly. "Yeah. That didn't really work out like that for me."
"What didn't?"
"Praying. Asking. Hoping someone would show up and fix it." He shrugged. "I stopped expecting answers."
She was quiet for a moment. "Maybe you were asking the wrong questions."
He didn't respond—but something shifted in his expression.
The clock ticked. Mr. Hendricks returned to his desk. Marcus yawned.
"You're gonna let them keep thinking you did it, aren't you?" she asked.
"Why not? It's what they want to believe."
"Really?”
"Yeah." He looked at her. "So's keeping those tickets."
She flinched—but didn't argue.
Another long silence.
She shook her head. “I don’t think I’m going to keep them," she said finally.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. I don't want to be that person."
He nodded slowly. "I don't want to be the guy everyone thinks I am either."
"So don't be."
"It's not that easy."
"I didn't say it was easy," she said, meeting his eyes. "I said don't be."
He almost smiled. "You're kind of annoying, you know that?"
"You're kind of a coward."
"Yeah," he said quietly. "I know."
At 4:30, Mr. Hendricks stood up. "All right. You're done. See you tomorrow—or hopefully not."
Collins slung his backpack over one shoulder.
She hesitated a second, then— “I’m Brie, by the way.”
He nodded. “Collins.”
She gave a small, almost-smile. “I know.”
___
Leon was out the door first. Jenna and the freshman followed.
Collins and Brie packed up slower.
At the door, she stopped. "You don't have to tell everyone. But maybe… tell someone."
He nodded. "Maybe."
"I'm gonna talk to my mom tonight. Tell her what I did."
"That's gonna suck."
"Yeah."
Pause.
"Good luck," he said.
"You too."
She left.
Collins stood there a moment longer, then pulled out his phone. Typed a message to his guidance counselor. Deleted it. Typed it again.
Can we talk tomorrow? About the prank thing.
He stared at it.
Then hit send.
___
The next day, Brie saw Collins in the hallway. He was talking to Ms. Rivera, the guidance counselor—looked uncomfortable, but he was doing it.
Their eyes met across the hall.
He gave a small nod.
She nodded back.
No words. Just acknowledgment.
She’d told her mom everything last night. They’d talked longer than she expected—about choices, not just mistakes.
It wasn’t worked out—but it was a start.
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