Pencil & Paper

Celine Taylor is a girl; popular, good looks, clever, daring, thoughtful and kind. There's only one problem - she's forced not to be interested in love. Blake Dowson is a guy who's creative, funny, caring and understandable, loves writing, cats, and most of all, Celine. Even when they start becoming more than friends, Celine still doesn't know how to tell Blake that she is forbidden to be with him. When he gives up his opportunity to go to a university and goes where Celine is, does she change her mind? Is it really worth the sacrifice?


3. Chapter 3: Detention




*Celine's P.O.V*

I walked into school pretty happy with myself. Throughout the weekend I wished 41 people in this town a happy birthday, either by texting, emailing or sending a letter. These were including two people in my school - I think one was a kid called Fiona and the other was a guy called Blake. I really liked my job, I like to think everyone in this town is equally special. 

Some people who knew me came up to me and asked how did I know when their birthday was, and I just said it's a secret, when it's actually pretty obvious why. 

I walked into class and girls ran to my side, asking how my holidays were. I just laughed and said it was great. We all moved our chairs and sat in a circle in the corner of our class. The gossip circle.

"Bryan asked me out, and I said yes! He was so cute!" a girl squealed.

"Oh my gosh, you are like the cutest couple ever!!" Another girl said.

"Me and Toby had a date and he took me to this really fancy restaurant.. he wore this tux and it looked gorgeous on him!" Emily said, and after a lot more conversation I was forgotten. I sighed and moved my chair back into my desk. "Hey C! Who do you like?" And a chorus of "yeah" circled my ears. I stood there and thought for a while of what to say. I couldn't tell them that my mum banned me from being with boys, after all I didn't want to lose my popularism. Nearly every girl in the school now wears no make up, half the girls now wear tank tops like me, and they all try and have their hair the exact same hairstyle. I can't lose that fame.

"I don't like anyone."

"Oh come on C! Probably half the class have a crush on you!"

"Well I don't like them."

Emily stopped arguing and turned back in her seat and carried on of how amazing Toby was. I don't know why but I felt jealous. Everyone in my class had a boyfriend except me, but I can't convince my mum for me to be the same. After all, she may be right.

“OK class, to your seats,” Mrs Dove yelled when she walked in the classroom, and I could tell she was having a bad day. Everyone ran to his or her seats quickly.

“Now, I must beseech you to not move your chairs to that corner of my classroom, girls,” she said, emphasizing the ‘girls’ part. I blinked. This wasn’t her classroom, and surely we are allowed to move our seats and put them back. A chorus of “yes, miss,” sounded, but I didn’t move my mouth.

“Celine, why are you not responding?” she inquired.

“I.. umm…. well I don’t see why we shouldn’t be allowed to move our seats,” I stammered, standing up.

“Why should that be?” she said coldly.

“Well, it’s not your classroom, it’s the schools’.” I said, pretending to be smart.

“It is very well my classroom, Miss Taylor,” she retorted. “But –“ “I’ve had enough of you. Detention.”

I sighed and sat back down. My parents are not gonna like it. 

“Who isn’t present?” she continued, noticing that a seat was not occupied.

“Blake, miss,” a boy that I didn’t know shouted. Blake? Yes, that was the boy that I sent a text to on Saturday. I wonder what happened to him.


*Blake’s P.O.V*

“Mum! I’m late for school!” I screamed, realizing I had woken up too late. “Can you drive me?” I pleaded. I usually walked, but I would be way too late if I did.

“I’ve got a lawyers meeting, but I can drop you off on the way,” she replied. I quickly grabbed my bag and we ran to the car.

When we reached school I was fifteen minutes late. I was about to sprint to the gates, but my mum called after me.

“Blakey! Can I borrow your phone for today? I need to text dad to pick me up after the meeting.”

“Sure!” I shouted, and without thinking twice, I ran into class.

“Sorry I’m late, Mrs Dove,” I said when I walked in the classroom.

“Detention,” was the only word she said. Oh god, it was one of her bad days. I sighed and sat down in my seat.

Throughout the whole day Mrs Dove gave out seven detentions, and as I looked on the detention list I saw my own name, but also ‘Celine Taylor’ was sprawled above mine. By then I was actually looking forward to detention.


*Celine’s P.O.V*

"Pick up all the rubbish in this lunch square. When you all are finished, you can go home," was all Mr Nelson (the detention manager) said. I could tell this was going to take a long time. Mountains of chocolate wrappers were spread everywhere, chips were piled on the ground and there were masses of gooey fruit waiting to be picked up. I knew people purposely did this for the detention kids. 

I started on the right hand corner of the square, where two boys were. After a while one of those boys moved from this spot, and the other moved towards me.

"Hey," he whispered. Creepy. I looked up and saw that it was the guy that got a detention not long after me, Blake.

"Oh, hey! Happy birthday from Saturday," I said enthusiastically, and then went back to picking up rubbish.

"How did you know?"

Here goes again. I've probably heard this question about a million times.

"It's a secret," I said.

"Tell me, was it one of my mates who told you? It might have been the phone book, but then how did you know it was my birthday? Did you see my school record?" Wow, he has thought of a lot of possibilities.

"Actually, no. Like I told you, it's a secret!" I was so tempted to tell him: he was really good looking, he was really smart in class, and also I cheerlead for his soccer team. "Well, um.." A stern voice made me jump.

"You two, start doing work or you will get another detention tomorrow!" Mr Nelson shouted. We didn't talk since then, and then after one and a half hours we were finally finished.


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