Her Artificial Hair [editing]

02 // the big bird.

Mr. Feigner had gone out to get some coffee while I currently am fiddling with my fingers. The fact that he took over fifteen minutes to do so is a reason to why I am not very sure that the 'coffee' he promised to bring isn't the only thing he's doing right now.

Either he's talking with my mother on the phone—who has to literally cross the country to get to us—or he's discussing my fate with the other men of authority around here. Either way, it's going to take some time. Moreover, at least, I have time to think about all of the 'terrible mistakes' I've done and freak out while my mom hears about this.

It's around the twenty minute mark that I hear an audible squeak from behind the door.

"So, could you go on?" He opens the door with two plastic cups in his hands, setting one in front of me and sitting on the other side with his. I sigh.

"Well, as I said, I had detention—"

The fact that the hot creeper – or to be exact, Ethan – had been the cause of my detention gave me even another reason to hate him. And believe me, there was a lot already. For example, the fact that he talked with me in the library without a reason to do so, gave me a cookie and acted all misogynistic at me, sat with us at lunch, indirectly blackmailed Cassie—and the list goes on. I just don't want to bore you.

He coughs on his coffee and almost spits it but regains his composure nonetheless. He looks at me and laughs.

"No, you're not boring me at all – at all" He stresses the last part. I cross my arms and raise an eyebrow.

"If you just want to throw me in jail without hearing my side of the story, go ahead, I'm just trying to clear up—"

"Ms. Wilde," He interrupts. "I was kidding."

"Sure you were, Mr. Feigner. Sure you were."

As I was saying, by the time I was sitting in a smelly room not being able to practice, well, freedom—kind of like a similar situation to what's happening now, considering Ethan was the reason to both, isn't it?—I was growing more and more hate for the supposed attractive male stalker that I was nearly boiling inside.

Figuratively talking, you could have boiled an egg on my feelings and it will turn out perfectly cooked in a matter of minutes. But, however, as usual, Ethan could not care any less. He didn't even approach me the rest of the school day—a wise action, may I add—although he kept making weird faces at me in Geography for God knows what.

Maybe the fact that I had detention was my escape from the evil almighty villain—I'm exaggerating again but come on, you heard what he did to me—and was my haven from all of the provocative annoyance.

But as always, I was—

"Wrong." He interrupts. "Very wrong."

"True, but if you interrupt me one more time, Mr. Feigner, that old security camera behind me is going to take the blow." I chuckle. His eyes widen, he coughs and mumbles a 'sorry'.

Anyway, halfway through my quite bearable detention—the teacher surveying us turned out to be quite cool—the door abruptly opened and Mrs. Frail's face suddenly changed. A quick shift, I'd say, from calm and composed to 'Get me the fuck out of here'.

Because, guess who just entered my new favorite place in the world?

Yes. It was him.

I didn't know what he did in the small number of hours after making me late for class, but I do know he did something. And I made sure of stealing glances at his hands and face, finding them particularly bruised, besides the fact he was hiding a bag of ice in his right hand.