Detention Saturday

Lauren's breath fogged the glass pane of Principal Lee's office door as she peered inside, her knuckles hovering an inch from the wood. Behind her, Melissa fidgeted with the hem of her plaid skirt, the starched fabric rustling.

"You knock," Melissa whispered, her fingers brushing Lauren's wrist—the same wrist she'd been gripping when John walked in on them three days prior. Lauren swallowed hard, remembering how the bathroom door had swung open to reveal Principal Lee's stunned expression, the way his gaze had lingered on their naked bodies.

The door swung inward before Lauren could touch it. John stood silhouetted against the morning light pouring through his office windows, his crisp white shirt rolled to the elbows.

"Right on time," John observed, stepping aside to let them enter. His voice gave nothing away, but Lauren caught the way his nostrils flared when Melissa brushed past him, her perfume swirling in the confined space.

John cleared his throat, shuffling papers with unnecessary ****. "Detention rules are simple. No phones, no talking, and—and you'll be copying passages from the student handbook until noon."

Melissa's knee bounced beneath her skirt. "Principal Lee," she blurted, her voice cracking. "About Wednesday night—"

"—Is forgotten," John interrupted firmly, though his grip on the pen betrayed him. Lauren watched his knuckles whiten around the plastic. "As long as this detention goes smoothly."