"Detention bites." This was the thought that repeated itself endlessly in Hoagie's mind, echoing loudly as it struck the walls of his cranium. He tapped his nails irritably on the carved and graffitied desk, one arm propping up his head lazily. He was only here because of a late paper; punishment around here was harsh, as he'd found out.
Hoagie surveyed his fellow 'delinquents'; a pale girl who had pulled back her red hair with purple barrettes; Fanny Fulbright, also convicted because of a late paper; some guy he didn't know who was picking his teeth, his brown and blue streaked hair dirty in the dusty light that filtered in through the window; the third and final of his company consisted of a scrawny blonde boy that was constantly fidgeting with his necklace. A pretty basic detention set, no one really interesting.
He sighed as Mr. Fuller's snores grew louder. The teacher was a bum; a full fledged riot could break out under his nose and the sloth would keep sleeping.
His phone vibrated and he snatched at it quickly. Fanny turned around to give him an eyebrow raise and he offered her a sheepish grin. Ex-girlfriends were so awkward. When she faced forward again, he opened the text quietly, glancing up at Mr. Fuller as he did so. No sign of life sans nasal noise.
Please, Mr. Jailer, won't you let my man go free? (Look out the window, baby.)
He chuckled and stretched, looking behind him as he did so. He had a good view of the parking lot if he craned his neck just right.
Standing on the hood of his blue '68 Mustang was Abby, dramatically mouthing the words to an old fifties song, clasping her hands as though begging. He could hear the words in his mind, her smooth singing voice pleading exaggeratedly, as he watched her plump lips form the lyrics soundlessly.
Please, Mr. Jailer, won't you let my man go free?
He don't belong in prison, though he's guilty as can be.
But the only crime he's guilty of is simply lovin' me.
Hoagie couldn't help it; he cracked up. Mr. Fuller snorted himself awake and the four teens snapped to attention. The teacher's piggy little eyes sought out the clock.
"You can go," he said, his voice high and nasally. "I hope you've learned your lesson." His subjects nodded contritely at the almighty King Fuller, hoping that they looked half-way convincing to the dimwit as they shuffled mutely out the door.
She was still in the parking lot when he'd gathered his messenger bag from his locker and headed outside, though she'd abandoned standing on the hood in favor of leaning against the front end. He pulled her into a hug as he burst into fresh gales of laughter.
"That-made-my-life!" he gasped between snickers. She grinned at him, her dark hair loose and long in the spring breeze, just daring him to touch it.
"Abby thinks her reputation went down the drain," she said, reaching up to take his goggles and put them on her own forehead. "but as she's dating the school 'nerd', she figures that it woulda happened anyway."
I ever tell you guys that I'm the world's biggest Johnny Depp fangirl? This song/scene is technically from Cry-Baby, an absolute favorite movie of mine.
Little fun fact: Hoagie's car, the blue '68 Mustang? Yeah, Johnny Depp's character in 21 Jumpstreet drives one. Two references in one story. I'm such a girl.
Slap-dash editing, so you should find the mistakes and tell me, because I was so excited to post and show you that I have a new fic, that I did almost no proof-reading.
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