Detention 10

Chris didn’t come to school the next day. I really hadn’t expected him to, especially from our phone conversation the previous night. When he didn’t show up to first period, I was hoping that he was just a little late and would be there in like fifteen minutes or somethin. But then the whole period went by and he didn’t show up. The same thing happened in second period. There was just a empty desk right across from me where Chris usually sat. 

During the fifteen minute break, I went into the large, dim-lit, empty gym that smelled like boys’ gym socks and old basketballs, and I called Chris on my cell phone. His phone rang many times, but he never answered the phone. Finally his voice mail picked up and I left a message. “Hey, Chris, this is Brandon. I was just wonderin why you didn’t come to school today. But um...call me back or whatever... if you want to.” I hung up the phone. I turned around and gasped to see Mr. Wilson standing behind me, arms crossed over his chest, a very grim expression on his hard, attractive face.

“What are you doin in here, Newman?” Wilson asked. “You’re not supposed to be in the gym unsupervised.”

“...I was calling my mother...” I said nervously. ‘It’s the only place I could get good reception...” Mr. Wilson was aware that I was a bit intimidated by him and that made him smile.

“You’re not supposed to be in here, and you’re not supposed to be using cell phones on campus.,” he told me. “Hand it over to me.”

I didn’t make any effort to give anything to him. I had to show him that I wasn’t just some damn scared pushover that he could just punk around. Instead of giving my phone over to him I said, “I won’t use it on campus anymore. I’ll go outside the gates.” I started to walk past him, but Mr. Wilson shot out a hand and grabbed me by the waistband of my jeans and jerked me back over to him. He stared at me very coldly with his arctic-blue eyes. 

“You think you’re so fuckin smart,” he whispered, his warm breath brushing up against my face. His hand never let go of my waistband. In fact his grip on me had tightened even more. He stepped a bit closer to me, almost close enough for me to hear his pulse. Wilson let go of my waistband, but he wasn’t finished touching me yet. His hand slid over the curve of my ass. I felt a tingle spread over the place where he touched me. I wanted to move, but it was like I couldn’t, it was like Wilson had me under some kind of spell and I was forced to just stand there, looking into his cold, alluring eyes, basically helpless to my actions. My dick got a hard a little, hard enough to make the front of my jeans poke out a little. 

Wilson continued to rub my ass gently while still staring deeply into my eyes, never blinking. There wasn’t any sign of real emotion on his face, just that blank stare. But I knew what he was feeling: that he had control over me, that there was nothing I could do to stop him. He also knew that there was a part of me that didn’t want him to stop touching me, even though we both knew it was inappropriate. Mr. Wilson brought his hand around to my front and squeezed my dick through my jeans. This was all I needed to get fully hard. I looked around the empty gym, hoping that nobody would come in and see us. I looked down and saw the imprint of Wilson’s ten-inch cock hardening in his charcoal-colored slacks. I wanted to reach out and touch his dick to, but I didn’t allow myself. 

Finally, the school bell rang, and I felt like the trance I was under broke. I pulled Mr. Wilson’s hand away from my dick. He gave me a taunting smirk and as he walked away, he said, “I’ll be seein you in detention.” 

“I can’t come to detention today,” I said, finally getting some of my courage back. “there’s something important I got to do. I have to be home early...” 

Without turning around, Wilson said, “That’s just more private time you have to make up with me.” And he walked briskly out of the gym. 

* * *

I got home at a quarter past four in the afternoon. My mother was in the living room when watching Oprah when I returned. “Did you get everything straightened out with your teacher?” she asked, her eyes still on the screen.

“Yeah.” I lied. 

“So that means no more detention, right?” my mother questioned.

Again, I said “Yeah.”

“Good,” she said.

My mother asked me no more questions so I went right to my room. I thought about calling Chris again, but I figured if he really wanted to talk to me, then he would call me. I stretched across my bed and went to sleep for a little whole. About a three hour and a half later, my cell phone rang. I jumped up, anticipating that it was Chris and I answered it on the second rang. “Hello?” I asked.

“It’s me,” Chris said. He sounded so glum.

“Hey. You wasn’t in school today. I missed you.” I probably shouldn’t have said that last part, but it was true.

“Yeah. Shit came up. Couldn’t go. Got your message. Are you doin somethin important right now?”

“Just sittin here lookin like an idiot,” I told him.

“Will your mom let you come out of the house on a school night?” Chris joked.

“I’m not twelve, Chris. I can go out anytime I want to.”

“Good,” Chris said. “Be outside in twenty minutes.” He hung up the phone. I got really excited, jumping out of my bed, putting on my shoes. I didn’t know what I was gonna say to my mother when she asked me where I was going. But all I knew was that I wasn’t going to stay in that house all night doing nothing. The living room was clear twenty minutes later, as I made my way to the front door. However, just as I was about to open the door, I heard my mother’s voice coming from the kitchen asking, “Where are you going, Brandon?”

“Just around,” I called back.

My mother emerged from the kitchen, drying her hands off with a cloth towel. “Around where?” she asked.

“The block,” I said, growing panicked.

“It’s almost eight o’ clock at night, what do you need to go walking around for? I hope you don’t plan on going to see that boy when I told you not to. I already told you how I felt about him.”

“And I already told you how I felt about him. He’s not a bad person.”

“Well how am I supposed to know that? You haven’t told me anything about this boy -”

“Stop calling him ‘boy’, his name is Chris. And how could I tell you about him? You’re never here. I’m old enough to know what I’m doing and the type of people I wanna be around. I don’t need you tellin me who I should and shouldn’t be with.”

“Brandon, I’m trying to watch out for you. This boy...Chris - whatever his name is, do you ‘really’ think that’s somebody you should be with?”

I opened the front door. “If you knew him the way I do, then you wouldn’t ask me that question.” As I was about to walk out, I said, “I’ll be back before eleven.” Just as I went outside, I saw Chris’ truck approaching. He stopped right in the middle of the street, in front of my house. I jogged around the truck and got inside on the passenger side. Chris pulled off, drove down the road a little bit until we were past my house, and parked along the curbside. 

“Was your mom trippin?” Chris asked.

“Pretty much. But I’m not worried about her right now.” I looked over at Chris. He looked as beautiful as always, but there was something slightly different about him; he didn’t seem like his usual self. “Chris, is there somethin wrong with you?” I asked. If there was, I figured he wouldn’t tell me, but I wanted to at least try.

Chris didn’t say anything. He just shook his head. 

It was getting dark really quickly. I looked on the clock on Chris’ dashboard and saw that it was past eight thirty. Chris saw me looking at the time and he asked, “You gotta be home by a certain time or somethin?”

“Told my mother I would be back before eleven.”

“Doesn’t give us much time,” Chris said softly. Looking at his face, I could tell there was definitely something wrong with him. I wish he would just tell me what it was, but I didn’t want to pressure him about it. To cover up the silence between us, Chris turned on the radio. “Where are we going?” I questioned.

“Where do you wanna go?” Chris asked back.

“Doesn’t really matter to me.” I leaned forward and kissed Chris gently on the lips. He didn’t seem too receptive to me. Usually he kissed me with such passion, but I felt like he wasn’t kissing me at all. I pulled away from Chris slowly, feeling a bit embarrassed and awkward. Chris just sat at the wheel for a while like he was thinking about something really important, and then he finally started to drive.