The Breakfast Club

[Shangela*]

Mr. Llywelyn was what most would call an ornery man. Grumpy, cantankerous, and worst of all, in a position of power over the student body, Mr. Llywelyn wasn’t a man anyone wanted to deal with. In start contrast to Whittree’s headmistress, Ms. Wright, Mr. Llywelyn’s policy on student discipline was much harsher. Where one might have some more leeway with Ms. Wright, Mr. Llywelyn was a strict disciplinarian that students quickly learned to avoid.

Unfortunately for a large number of students, Mr. Llywelyn served dual roles as an Algebra teacher, as well as one of a few staff allocated to monitor detention on a twice-a-week basis.  He absolutely loved being on everybody’s case about everything. Every time you walked without a hall pass? He was there to give a detention. Every time you arrived late to class? He was there to give a detention. He was a hard ass and everyone knew it.

So when this week’s batch of Friday detentions sulked towards his classroom, a look of mutual misery was strewn across their faces.
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((Diana "Dee" Dixon - Pre-Game Start))

Dee’s mama had been hankerin’ to whup Dee something fierce when she’d found out the reason why Dee would be late home that night. A detention?!? That was completely unacceptable to her. Dee was supposed to be bringing home good grades, going to church, and wash her hands before supper. That’s all her mama cared about. If she did well, Mama treated her well enough. Whenever Dee did something that didn’t fit her mama’s whole plan for her, she got all kinds of witchy. Dee shuttered to think of the tongue-lashing she’d get when she went home that day.

It wasn’t fair, though. Dee hadn’t been causing a ruckus, or been cussing or nothing. It was all simply a case of forgetfulness. But sure as sun, Mr. Llywelyn wouldn’t listen to any excuse for not handing in her Algebra packet.

Dee resigned herself to having to piddle around and sit through detention. It was only two hours, right? How bad could it be? She’d been the first of the condemned to arrive to the classroom, slip in one hand, bag toted around in the other. Yet when the girl entered the room, her look of anguish was replaced by one of tentative cheer; Mr. Llywelyn wasn’t serving as detention monitor today. Instead, a TA, still wet behind the ears, greeted Dee at the door instead.

Trying to hide her relief, Dee toddled over to her seat. She’d chosen where she’d sit with some care; the second row chair right by the window. Close to the window, and far enough for the TA to realize that she’d be doodling instead of doing homework.  

As she started to pull out her binder, she casually watched a couple people wander in. Each one mirrored the thinly masked relief that they’d been spared.

[Shangela*]

Detention without Mr. Llywelyn was fantastic. Did Dee get a single assignment done? Not a lick. But she did get some quality doodling in. She'd been keen on this ranch hand that worked with her on the spinach patch. What was his name? Juan. Juan Carlos. She sighed breathily as she etched out a crude tangle of pencil strokes meant to emulate his beautiful tresses of thick black hair.

Dee grew up around guys too much. She didn't have an outlet to project her girlhood crushes onto. She was never those prissy Barbie doll types that chatter on and on about boys like that. She'd rather chew on a cow patty than admit that a boy gave her the vapors. That was such a mama thing to say. Giving me the vapors. Mama used to go on and on about which male celebrities got her all smitten. Dee wouldn't dream of joining into that malarkey.

There was someone that she didn't ever have to lie, or withhold from; her notebook. She could get lost in her scribbling for hours. Or at least, until the bell rang, and her detention was over.

((Diana "Dee" Dixon continued in Counting Pennies))