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Detention  Solo 

Well, this sucked. She banged her head on the desk. She was the only one in this empty classroom, it would appear that none of the other students were reckless enough to get in trouble on their first day. There was no proctor at the front of the room. She was left with her books and a wall clock. The seconds would tick away, booming with each passing second like a metronome. It clock was unnaturally loud, she wondered if it was somehow enchanted to punctuate the punishment. The detention was for three hours but it felt like nine. 

During those three hours, she first tried to nap away the hours. Alas, the clock was too loud.

Then she pondered if it would be possible to escape. She approached the door and when she touched the knob a gust of wind would launch her across the classroom. She would be uninjured but slightly rattled, maybe even a little bruised.

She would try to get creative. She would approach the door from the side and nudge it with the leg of a chair. The chair would be ripped from her hands and launched across the room. She wondered if this was legal, locking her in here. If there were some safety concerns she would be able to cite.

She was determined. More determined than most. She would try again and again. It would not change the outcome, repetition made no difference. The hours would pass, one by one. Slowly. But eventually time would elapse. 

When the clock struck five, a bell would ring. Ding-Dong! The sound would be deafening. There was no noticeable change to the room. No teacher would enter. She would look to the left. Look to the right. Nothing would happen. She would shout out with annoyance "My time is up! HELLO!" There was no answer. No response.

She would mutter something site inappropriate as she chucked a chair at the door. It would not be knocked away. What? That was not what happened the last dozen times she had done that during her tantrum. She would pick up the same chair from across the room and carry it over to the door. She would stand to the side and she would gingerly poke at the door with the chair leg. The knob would rattle, even start to turn. The door would not release a gust of wind. She was getting braver, perhaps also dumber. She would reach for the door with her bare hand and grip the brass knob. Beneath her hand the knob would speak and it would say. "Times up... Clean your mess and you may go."

Apparently something had been watching her all this time.

She would rush around the classroom, picking up the desks she had disturbed. Then she would scurry out of detention. She knew what she did not want to do again. 

Now she needed to meet Marcus in the library. 

Little did she know he was already gone.

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Just a trick of the lighting they said...