Rules of a Rebel

Chapter 6: No Pink

Rule #6: Dress Code

No Pink.

-()-

As expected, the first meeting of prom committee did not go as well as I planned, since I a) was forced to introduce myself b) got detention for yanking a pencil out of some nerd's mouth (she wouldn't stop making weird chewing noises)  and c) accidentally dropped my cupcake. Usually, I would consider annoying a nerd a success, but now my detention count has reached ten.

Which means a call to my parents.

Mom's already pissed off at me because of the gym issue, so she's not going to be pleased when they inform her that I'm on my way to breaking the school record of detentions. The most detentions a student has gotten is twelve.

It looks like nobody knows how to have fun in this school.

In order to appease my mother, I promised I would take Melody and myself to the barber shop today, since she's been complaining about the state of our hair for weeks now. I examine my hair in one of the windows. The roots are turning blonde again, so it would be nice to dye it black.

I decide to surprise Melody at her cheerleading practice after school, since she explicitly warned me to stay away from it.

Just when I'm about to enter the gym, though, I spot two people talking inside. One of them is Archer, whose hair is wet and chest is bare, and the other is Coach Watson. I stop in my tracks and turn to leave.

It's too late.

"Peyton!" Coach Watson yells. "I need to talk you."

Reluctantly, I trudge my feet inside the gym, trying to keep my eyes off a shirtless Archer.

"We need to talk about your detention. It's nothing too bad, just cleaning a hallway or two," He says, raising an eyebrow. "Is next Monday after school good enough for you?"

"I can't."

"Why not?"

I hesitate, then tell the truth. "I have another detention that day."

"Alright." Both of his eyebrows are raised now. "How about Tuesday?"

I shake my head.

Archer snorts in amusement. Both of us ignore him.

Coach Watson sighs, although his lips quirk in amusement. "How about you tell a date and I'll write it down, okay?"

"Wednesday is good for me," I shrug. "Can I go now? I have to meet my sister."

"Okay, let me just write this down," He scribbles down a few details on a piece of paper - Peyton Monroe, 12th grade, hit a student with a baseball bat - while I wait anxiously, shifting my weight from side to side. I can sense Archer's gaze on me, but I stare at the ground without acknowledging him.

Finally, Coach Watson hands me the slip of pink paper. I snatch it from his hands and turn around, ready to run, when I hit somebody's bare chest. It's still wet from the water.

"Move," I snap, flushing, and run.

When I'm out of sight, I sprint out of the building and hide behind a couple of bushes with my skateboard tucked under me. I take deep breath. My face is probably a dark shade of red by now. Maybe pissing Melody off can wait until morning.

So I lie down in the grass until I can hear Melody's voices.

They're too far away for me to actually hear the words, but I manage to make out the sound of their scornful laughter and their mocking tone when they speak. My best guess would be they're making fun of somebody. I wonder if it's a nerd. I used to make fun of nerds.