3: Misery And Towels

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Zane

We stormed out of the classroom with everyone’s eyes over us. Even though I was a nobody at school, Gavin was a lot. He had a reputation to hold.

I’ve never been that mad before in my life. I’ve been called these names before. Insulting my sexuality when they didn't know my sexuality from me was something that didn't faze me. It didn't bother me as much as being bullied for my colour did. Or my religion. But ruining my art took it to a whole new level.

It wasn't that my art was more important than my race or my religion, but my artworks were something I created myself. They had the identity I wanted them to have, the colours I choose to tint, and the image I shaped it to be.

I was walking so fast, Gavin was practically following and not tagging along. We reached the office and the vice principal motioned for us to sit in the waiting area. She looked surprised to see me in here. After all, this is my first time being here to not accept an achievement.

I expected myself to calm down while we waited, but seeing him sitting beside me with an innocent look on his face made me even madder. He had the same red paint on his sleeve and he didn’t even try to hide it.

The door opened and the principal waved us in.

“Zane Murad! I’m shocked and disappointed to see you here. I expected highly from you. You too, Mr. Ross. So what’s the problem?”

“He ruined my painting!” I screamed and shocked the principal even more.

“He attacked me!” Gavin yelled defensively.

“Well, for a reason!”

“I wasn't the one who'd done it!”

“STOP IT BOTH OF YOU!” she smacked the desk with her palms and stood up angrily. She calmed down in less than a second. “Since this is your first time in here, I’m gonna give you both the chance to solve this on your own. In Detention.” She said before we could even say a word.

“But I have football practice!” Gavin argued.

“And I have—Actually I have nothing.” I mumbled and hoped that no one heard me. I thought I had to work at first, but then realized it was Friday and I only worked Monday through Thursday.

“Not another word from any of you. Now go back to your class. And make sure to pick up hall passes from the vice principal’s because I don't want to see you here again.”

“But who will fix my painting?! It’s ruined and it counts for a big portion of my grade!” I whined.

“Oh, Mr. Ross will help you fix that."

“But-”

“That’s if he wants to stay on the team.” She raised a threatening eyebrow at him, which made him look at the ground.

“Fine.” He muttered.

We left her office shrouded by a mixture of anger, guilt, and defiance. Since Arts was the last class of the day, detention was 30 minutes away. Mum was gonna be so worried. I tried calling her but my battery was dead.

I checked the detention slip and it read:

       Room 113. Mr. Whitman                                                      2:30-4:30pm                                                                *Unsilenced*

I assumed “Unsilenced” meant that we could talk, since usually you’re not supposed to talk in detention. I got my bag from my locker which contained my sketchpad and my binder. I had a feeling that I would need it because I so wasn’t willing to “talk it out” with so called Mr. Ross.

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