Seriously, I'm Not a Bad Boy

[1. Serious Introductions]

I've never been fond of Monday, never have been and never will. Whether it's Monday the day or Monday the person, they still annoy the heck out of me.

Mandy Monday, 100% certified bitchy mathlete who was rumored to have won the secretly held spring-fling prom queen last year, got me into detention because I kicked her ass in front of the school gymnasium.

It's not my fault that her bitchy mouth of hers needs to fuck a duct-tape. And when you don't see a duct-tape within a 10 mile radius, you kick said someone's ass.

And to think that I almost felt sorry for her name.

Even though I still don't know if it was a blessing or a curse that I let that witch's words got into my mind, I felt badass for that small moment of victory.

The brunette snickered at me when I was ushered to the principal's office, again. But she winced right after, clutching her left cheek. Which was slowly, but surely, forming a bruise. And I smirked right back.

Right before I entered the principal’s office, I could see a guy hunching over in an empty classroom with a cigarette in hand.  He looked startled when he caught my gaze. His bruised eye widened and he slipped the cigarette into his varsity pocket. I frowned, the sight looked odd for sure, since most students here were all goody-two-shoes with a backstabbing heart, but I dismissed it.

Mrs. Joanne sighed at the sight of me inside her office, the greys on her hair fully visible because of the sunlight that illuminated the room. "Olivia, how many times have I told you to stay away from trouble?"

I thought about the two previous meetings that I had on this very office, "Twice, mam."

"And how many times have you broken it?" She sighed in exasperation.

"Twice, mam."

"That's what I thought." She sat on her plump black chair. "When are you going to change? You just arrived here a few days ago--"

"Five days to be exact," I added.

"--and you already went here for the third time. The teachers will think that we're practically friends now."

My eyes shined a little, "Does that mean that I'll get excused from detention?"

"No." She said sternly, the frowns on her forehead creased more, "You will stay there until five and think about what you've done."

I pouted, "But grandma, you can't do that to me."

"I'm not your grandma here." She deadpanned, then her expression softened, "Olivia, you know I can't keep this scholarship if you keep acting like this. I'm also going to have to tell your parents about this too, sooner or later."

"I know," I sunk back to my seat.

"Just," She sighed yet again, "behave, okay?"

"Okay," I replied, looking at my lap.

But the truth was, I couldn't. Trouble seemed to follow me wherever I go and it irks me to no end. I was always the troubled one. It's not that my sister was as good as me either, but at least she finally got a boyfriend after being a single, photography-obsessed, journal-writing, fangirl for the last seventeen years.

Good for her.

And that was why instead of lazing on my couch with a bucket of popcorn on my right hand while watching Game of Thrones, I sat on the far end of the seat inside biology lab. The place where my lovely grandma put one of her devi-- teachers to guard the gates of dying frogs land. I swear I could almost hear the sound of frogs croaking in pain at the back of my mind.