A predictable predicament

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Pop.

The sound ricocheted around the room like a tiny explosion as the sticky, pink gum collapsed against his lips. The young boy huffed out an impatient sigh as he scrapped his teeth along his lower lip, dragging the remnants of the gum back into his mouth. For the last ten minutes it had been just him and a stick of ol’ Droobles best while he awaited what was sure to be another long, tedious, pointless afternoon.

He was starting to think he spent more time in detention than actually in class (though maybe if he actually went to class once in a while he wouldn’t be in this predicament…again). Though it was hardly his fault that all the adults in this place had their sense of humour surgically removed when they became professors. All he had done was crack one little joke about the Duro charm and Bam! Here he was, back in the slow form of torture they liked to call detention. It wasn’t even one of his best jokes to be honest: who wouldn’t have questions about a so called ‘hardening’ charm?! This was absolute bullshit. The teachers here clearly had it out for him.

Tristan leaned back on his chair, balancing on the rear legs as he swung his feet up to rest on the scarred surface of the desk in front of him. Would he be spending this detention alone? Hopefully another student would be roped in to whatever menial task was set for today; at least that would make the time pass by a little faster. He scrunched his nose up at the possibility of writing lines – sure, it wasn’t the most difficult chore, and it certainly one of the least disgusting ones, but it was just so boring. At this point, he almost preferred scrubbing out cauldrons to writing lines. At least cleaning cauldrons had some point to it.

Just as another bright pink bubble started to expand from the boy’s mouth, the door to the classroom swung open, catching him by surprise. He jumped in his seat, tipping his already precarious balance out of whack.

Crack!

Dark black spots danced across his vision as the back of his head thumped painfully off the floor, the tacky pink bubble bursting across his chin. He groaned from the floor, unwilling to make any moves to right himself again. Maybe, with just a little luck, he could play for some sympathy – y’know, get sent to the nurse instead of having to sit through whatever the professor had planned. But that all depended on who had just walked in.

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Tagged: Open
Word Count: 433
Notes: --