School's Over - The Story Isn't : Or - Hour Zero - Detention Part 1

“Hail Eris.” I raise my eyes to the ceiling and praise my favorite deity when the clock strikes three thirty two and our supervisor announces that we may leave. My good mood disintegrates into foul aura of annoyance as my name is called over the intercom along with a dozen other individuals who committed crimes against education heinous enough to warrant an after school detention.

“There goes any chance of a decent afternoon.” I fume walking down the halls crowded with underage idiots eager to drink, smoke, party, screw away the weekend, quite literally. I fight against the current of ‘yoloswag’ spouting youth and come to room forty-two, more commonly referred to as the dungeon. I enter the cramped, ill lit room and secure a seat as far away from the board as possible. I slide into an old, graffiti ridden desk tucked away nicely into the back, left corner of the room. Once there I hide my face behind a well worn copy of Going bovine and wish for little more than to pass the next hour and three-fourths without being pestered by teachers, students, or dimension hoping ponies.

Within seconds all three said parties enter the room and ensure that my bookmark won’t advance at all today.

An old nuisance, in the form of Tyler the quarterback, a teacher who should have retired over a decade ago by the name of Mr. Schroden, and a white washed mare whose luscious purple hair flows like a smooth river and whose name I can only assume to be a bad pun. Together these three swagger, shuffle, and sashay into class respectively. Mr. Schroden tiredly seats himself in an uncomfortable looking chair front and center, Tyler knocks various supplies off people’s desks and soon begins tipping the desks themselves over on his roid induced, rage filled stomp to his usual spot, and little miss high society wanders past them both, tisk-tisking in disapproval as she goes, and begrudgingly chooses a vacant chair directly caddy-corner to my own.

The late bell roars and detention officially begins.

“What a ruffian,” The pearl white pony tosses her hair towards the angry jock and grumbles to me, “Not only does he have an absolutely detestable disposition, he smells downright awful!” she looks to me to agree.

“Can’t argue with you there.” I oblige her and raise a rather obscene digit towards the Neanderthal in question. “And you are?” I change the topic as devil spoken of glares in our general direction.

“Rarity, dear.” She replies with a wave of a hoof as though such a thing should be common knowledge by now.

“Well Rarity,” I nod at the recipient of her insults and clear my throat, “May I suggest we discus something, anything really, other than him. He’s not too keen on allowing others to badmouth him without receiving broken legs for doing so.”

“Oh my!” She cries, “How ghastly!”

“Exactly,” I nod and divert my eyes as Tyler begins swearing profusely about having to miss practice in order to serve this detention for whatever felony he’d recently committed. “So what brings you to detention this fine afternoon? Smoking in the girl’s bathroom?”

“As if!” She giggles and smacks me with a hoof. “No, nothing of that sort. Twilight instructed us of the possibility of being sent here and what we should do if such a thing should occur.”

“And what were you told to do?” I lean in and emphasize just how much I pretend to care.

“Were we to… shall we say arrive… here we were to single you out and stay close to you.” she tells me with a huff.

“Why in good Goddess’ name did Twilight have you come after me?” I toss my hands up in frustration garnering an exasperated look from Mr. Schroden.

“Evidently you’ve earned the trust and admiration of not only Twilight but the princesses as well.

“Well lucky me,” I moan, “I have the honor of babysitting interstellar Equestrians!”

“Whatever are you blathering about?” Rarity stares at me in honest confusion.

“I don’t even know anymore.” I put my head down and sigh. “I stopped trying to make sense of today’s events around second hour, and that was before all the ponies began manifesting themselves to me and me alone.”

“Well dear… Uh” Rarity searches desperately for words of wisdom or advice, “That’s nice.” She fails.

“So the other’s wasted my time with metaphysics, idle chit chat, sports, and impromptu therapy sessions, what do you plan to spend your time here doing?” I ask without bothering to look up.

“Well,” Rarity sucks her lower lip in and takes a deep breath, “We could always talk about your wardrobe.” She offers.

“What about it?” I look down at my tattered sneakers, baggy jeans, and loose fitting t-shirt. “I like how I look.”

“Of course you do darling!” she appeases me. “But don’t you think you could look even better?”

“Are you implying I need a makeover?” I stare at her with such intense apathy that I expect her to drop the subject entirely.

“Well now that you mention it,” she stands and holds a hoof out to me, “You could greatly benefit from one.”

“Why not?” I groan and stand, “Hey Mr. Schroden!” I call out.

“MmmHm?” He replies bored.

“I’m out,” I say as Rarity and I walk towards the door, “I’ll serve this on Monday.”

“Tha’s fine.” He nods at me and returns to glaring at the rest of the detainees.

“WHAT!?! Tyler screams as we leave the classroom, “Why can they leave but I have to miss practice?”

“Because I like him more than you.” We hear Mr. Schroden quip as we stroll out the main doors.

“So where to?” Rarity asks once we’re outside.

“The mall of course.”