detention
1287 Words
Detention at Crestwood was held in Room 214 every Thursday. No phones. No talking. Just silence and the hum of the old fluorescent lights.
Mira had never been there before.
Zain had. Twice.
“Thanks for dragging me into this,” Mira muttered as they sat at opposite ends of a long table.
Zain didn’t look up from the textbook he was pretending to read. “You talked back to Mr. Daniels. I just got caught with you.”
“It was worth it,” Mira said. “He was wrong about the quote.”
Zain smirked. “See? Annoying when you’re smart.”
Ms. Carter had caught them arguing about the Romeo and Juliet script during her history class. Again. She’d had enough.
“So we sit here for two hours and don’t speak,” Zain said. “Great.”
Mira opened her notebook instead. She had lines to rewrite.
For the first thirty minutes, it worked. Silence. The kind that wasn’t uncomfortable yet.
Then the power went out.
The lights flickered once, twice, and died. The room plunged into dim gray light from the windows. A few groans came from other students scattered around the room.
“Seriously?” Zain said.
Ms. Carter poked her head in from the hallway. “Power’s out building-wide. Stay put. Don’t move.”
The door clicked shut.
Mira exhaled. “Well. This is going great.”
Zain leaned back in his chair, chair legs creaking. “You always this lucky?”
“Only on Thursdays.”
Silence again. But now it felt different. Closer.
“Can I ask you something?” Zain said after a while.
Mira paused mid-sentence. “Depends.”
“Why do you care so much about this project?”
Mira set her pen down. “Because it’s the first thing I’ve done here that feels like mine. Not my aunt’s. Not my cousins’. Mine.”
Zain was quiet for a long time. “Huh.”
“What about you?” Mira asked before she could stop herself. “Why are you even at Crestwood? You said it was your dad’s idea.”
Zain’s jaw tightened. “Yeah. He thought I needed to ‘learn humility.’ Spend a year away from the company, away from the city. Make friends.”
He said it like the word tasted bad.
“Do you hate it here?” Mira asked.
“I hate everything,” Zain said simply.
Mira almost laughed. “That’s honest, I’ll give you that.”
They talked after that. Not about the project. About nothing and everything.
Zain told her he’d been playing piano since he was six, but stopped when his dad said it wasn’t ‘practical.’
Mira told him she used to want to be a writer, before everything changed.
It wasn’t deep. It didn’t need to be.
For two hours, in a dark room with no phones and no Serena Vance, they were just two kids who understood what it felt like to be stuck in a life they didn’t choose.
When the lights flickered back on, it felt like a disruption.
Ms. Carter came back, checked attendance, and let them go ten minutes early.
As they walked out into the hallway, Zain said, “Don’t mention any of that. Ever.”
Mira nodded. “Your secret’s safe.”
“Good.”
They walked in silence to the main doors. It wasn’t awkward silence this time. It was comfortable.
“Ride home?” Zain asked suddenly.
Mira blinked. “What?”
“My driver’s here. It’s raining. I can drop you off.”
Mira looked outside. It was pouring. She’d walked in the rain before, but she was tired. And the idea of sitting in silence with him for twenty minutes didn’t sound bad.
“Okay,” she said.
---
The car was black, sleek, and silent. Zain’s driver nodded at them and didn’t speak the entire ride.
Mira stared out the window, watching the city blur past.
“You don’t have to act normal around me,” Zain said after a while.
Mira glanced at him. “What does that mean?”
“You don’t pretend you’re not impressed. Or scared. Or annoyed. It’s fine.”
Mira laughed. “So you want me to be honest?”
“Yeah.”
She thought about it. “Okay. I am impressed. And I’m still annoyed. And I’m a little scared.”
“Of me?”
“Of this,” Mira said. “Whatever this is.”
Zain didn’t answer right away. He just looked at her, and for the first time, he didn’t look guarded.
“Me too,” he said quietly.
The car pulled up in front of the apartment building Mira shared with Aunt Zara. It looked small and worn next to the car.
“Thanks for the ride,” Mira said, grabbing her bag.
Zain nodded. “Text me about the script. We’re behind.”
Mira smiled. “Yes, sir.”
She got out, and the car pulled away.
---
Aunt Zara was waiting when Mira got inside. Her face was tight.
“Where were you?” Zara asked.
“Detention,” Mira said. “School thing.”
Zara crossed her arms. “You’re spending too much time with those rich kids. It’s not good for you.”
Mira froze. “What do you mean?”
“I mean you’re not like them, Mira. Don’t forget that.”
Mira’s chest tightened. “I’m not trying to be like them.”
“Good,” Zara said. “Because they’ll use you and throw you away. Just like your parents.”
The words hit harder than they should have.
Mira went to her room without another word.
She lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling, and pulled out her phone.
No new messages from Zain.
She didn’t know why she felt disappointed.
---
The next day at school, things were normal. Too normal.
Zain acted like detention never happened. Short answers. Cold tone. Back to square one.
Mira didn’t push. She understood now.
He was scared too.
During lunch, Serena cornered her again.
“So,” Serena said, leaning against the table. “Heard you and Malik had a little bonding session in detention.”
Mira didn’t look up from her food. “Heard wrong.”
“Please. Everyone saw his car drop you off.”
Mira finally looked up. “And?”
Serena smiled. “Just remember, Mira. People like him don’t date people like you. They use you for a while, then move on.”
Mira stood up, tray in hand. “Maybe. But at least I’m not using my dad’s money to make other people feel small.”
She walked away before Serena could reply.
Her hands were shaking.
---
After school, Zain was waiting by the front doors.
“You okay?” he asked.
Mira stopped. “Why do you care?”
“Because you look like you want to punch something.”
Mira almost smiled. “Serena happened.”
Zain’s expression darkened. “What did she say?”
“Nothing I haven’t heard before.”
Zain stepped closer. “If she touches you, I’ll—”
“You’ll what?” Mira cut in. “Get your dad to sue her?”
Zain stopped. “I’d figure it out.”
Mira looked at him. Really looked.
He wasn’t the cold, detached guy from day one anymore. Not completely.
“Thanks,” she said softly.
Zain looked away, uncomfortable with the gratitude. “Don’t make it weird.”
“Right,” Mira said. “Never.”
They walked home together, under the same gray sky. Not holding hands. Not talking much.
But neither of them wanted to leave.
- Writer
