E.N.E.M.Y.

N is for NEMESIS

(It also stands for never, which is when my punishment in detention will probably come to an end...)

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Courtney: Back Then

I’M PRETTY SURE THAT whoever came up with the concept of after-school detention was high on drugs. Like, they couldn’t have thought this thing all the way through before sharing the idea with someone else.

Exhibit A: I’m currently sitting in a classroom, alone with an attractive guy who is a full year older than me. An attractive guy with a bad reputation. Exhibit B: The supervisor of detention is again nowhere to be found. Exhibit C: Some other students who were assigned to different rooms for “after-school” detention are currently huddled around a tree outside, sneaking cigarettes and keeping watch until the supervisors return.

“Whoever came up with after-school detention had to be high as hell,” Jace says, making me look at him. “The teachers don’t want to be kept here any longer than we do.”

“Well, I think after-school detention is a brilliant idea.” I can’t agree with him on any point. Agreement leads to conversation. Conversation leads to friendship. And from the rumors I’ve heard, Jace “doesn’t do just friends” when it comes to girls. 

“I would almost believe that you were telling me the truth if you hadn’t spent most of yesterday writing, This detention shit is for the birds a million times in your notebook.”

I try not to laugh, but I can’t help it. “Okay, you’re right. This is pretty pointless, but it could be worse.”

“Worse how?”

“My best friend Genevieve got in trouble last year for sneaking a smoke in the bathroom. Mr. Thompson made her clean every bathroom in the school for an entire week.”

“I’d honestly rather take that than this,” he says. “Then again, I am enjoying my newfound, sexy company whose stuck here next to me every day.”

Welp, that conversation was nice while it lasted. I reach into my backpack to grab my headphones, but he leans over and gently grabs my hand.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I promise that I won’t give you any more compliments.”

“Will you also promise that you’ll just stop talking to me for the rest of these sessions?”

He laughs and lets my hand go. “No. Do you want to get out of here for a while?”

“What?” I can feel my eyes bulging out of my skull. “What did you just say?”

“Calm down, teacher’s pet.” He smirks. “I just mean do you want to go grab some food. We’ll come right back.”

“So, you want us to get into even more trouble?” I shake my head. “You know, I used to think that the idea of someone being born a criminal was a lie. Thank you for making me see the light.”

His lips turn up into a huge, cocky grin and I hate the way my stomach flips as he lets out a low laugh. “Let me guess. You want to be a lawyer?”

“Not want to be. I’m going to be. So, I’ll pass on ruining my chances before they begin.”

He shrugs and stands to his feet. “I’ll be right back.”

I watch as he leaves the classroom, and within minutes I spot him in the parking lot—slipping into his black pick-up truck. As he speeds out of the lot, I pull out my phone and call Genevieve.

“What’s up jailbird?” she answers on the first ring.

“Nothing, future felon.” I shoot back. “I’m in detention—again, for you. But anyway, don’t forget to pick up the notes from my debate teammates at the library Saturday. I won’t get out of here until the afternoon so they’ll be long gone.”

“I’m already two steps ahead of you. Got my alarm set, my pink highlighters ready, and my headphones ready to be plugged in when they start talking to me.”

I laugh. “Thanks, Genevieve.”

“Hey, whenever you’re done with detention today, you should come over and hang out.”

“I’m grounded, remember? But you can come over to my place. My parents would let you.”

“Well, it would be me, my boyfriend, and Sam. He’s been asking about you since the summer so I figured seeing him again might cheer you up. Unless you’ve been letting Jace pick up where Sam left off these past few weeks. Is that why you haven’t been answering Sam’s calls?”

I can feel all color leaving my face, and a part of me I can’t explain doesn’t want to talk to my own best friend anymore.

“No,” I say, my voice a whisper. “I hear the detention coach coming back down the hallway. I’ll call you back.”

“You better!”

I end the call and put my head down, doing what I always do when a memory of Genevieve getting me into trouble resurfaces. Shut my eyes and block that shit out.

But for whatever reason, at this moment right now, I can’t.

All I can think about is how this past summer Genevieve and I watched one too many episodes of a sex-crazed soap opera, and she thought it would be “cool” if we both lost our virginity on the same night. She introduced me to her boyfriend’s best friend shortly afterward. For weeks, I made myself laugh at his jokes, let him slip his hand under my dress whenever we made out, and when Genevieve’s parents left for vacation in July, the so-called “losing our virginity” pact was set:  She and her boyfriend would take her room, and me and Sam would take the guest room.

I’d always pictured my first time being all kisses and repeated whispers of “I love you.” Hell, I would’ve accepted a mere “I care about you,” but all I got was Sam forcing himself inside of me, and humping me a few times while he said, “Fuck, you’re tight.” He didn’t notice the tears falling down my face and he didn’t even think to ask if I was okay afterwards. He just zipped up his pants and said he had fun.

“So much fun...”

But if that wasn’t hurtful enough, when I finally stepped out of the room and approached Genevieve with what had happened, she just stared at me in utter disbelief. She’d said that the pact was just a joke. That she was kidding and never intended for either of us to take things that far.

“I just thought you would back out...You’re such a square, and you always said you wanted your first time to mean something. Guess that means it means nothing now, huh? Don’t worry, I won’t let anyone ever call you a slut for what you did...”

Several minutes later, I feel someone tapping my shoulder and look up.

Jace is standing in front of me with a box of donuts and a bottle of my favorite tea. “I tried to get the pink sprinkle kind you always bring in here—the ones you never offer to share with me, but they only had the glazed kind.”

“Sorry.” I smile and sit up, taking the box and tea from his hands. “Thank you very much, Jace.”

“You’re welcome.” He takes the seat next to me. “You okay?”

I nod and focus on the donuts, not wanting to say anything else. To my surprise, he doesn’t try to make me talk for the rest of detention. He smiles at me each time I glance over at him—which always makes me blush, but he doesn’t say anything else.

With half an hour to go, I check my phone to see if my dad has sent me his usual, “Yes, I’m still disappointed in you, but I’m outside waiting” text message. He’s texted me, but the message is different this time.

DAD: I’m working two hours over today, so ask Genevieve or the detention counselor if they can bring you home. Come. Straight. Home.

DAD: Yes, I’m still disappointed in you.

I don’t text him back.

“Alright, kids.” The detention counselor suddenly walks into the room. “I think we can leave just a tad bit early today. What do you say?”

Jace is already closing his notebook and standing to his feet. I shut mine and walk over to the teacher.

“Yes, Miss Ryan?” He raises his eyebrow. “The door to leave the school is over there.”

“I was wondering if you could give me a ride home. I live about twelve minutes away.”

He tilts his head to the side as if I’ve asked him to do the impossible. “Do you have gas money?”

“Um...no.”

“Do you know how much a teacher makes in this town?”

“Um, no?” I shrug.

“Well, it’s not enough to give out twelve-minute rides to the suburbs without getting some gas money in return.” He takes my donut box from me, opens it, and looks disappointed to see that there are only two inside. He doesn’t give it back, though.

“Mr. Kennedy!” He calls out to Jace right as he’s stepping into the hallway. “Mr. Kennedy, would you mind taking your fellow cell-mate home today? She says she lives about twelve minutes away.”

Jace smiles and looks at me. “I don’t mind at all.”

I turn toward the teacher. “Are you being serious right now?”

“Dead ass serious.” He pulls a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and points to the door. “I’m officially off now, kid. Out.”

I roll my eyes and walk to the door, following Jace out of the room. My heart is beating faster than ever, and I’m not sure I like the way Jace is staring at me with every step we take.

He leads me out to the parking lot, and to my surprise, he walks over to the passenger door and opens it for me.

I don’t move, though. I just stand there.

“Are you going to get in?” he asks. “Sometime today would be nice...”

“In a second,” I say, my heart pounding loudly. “How many tickets have you gotten since you started driving?”

“One, maybe two.”

“Maybe two? What were they for?”

“Speeding.” He smiles. “Anything else, Counselor Ryan?”

“Do both the seatbelts work?”

He rolls his eyes and lifts me up without permission, placing me on the seat. He reaches over me and pulls the seatbelt over my lap, buckling it before I can say a word.

“Yes, Counselor Ryan,” he says. “The seat belts work.”

He shuts the door and walks to his side, cranking the engine. “What’s your address?”

“Five hundred Summer Fly Lane.”

“Good to know.”

“Yes, good to know because you need it to drop me off and you’ll be forgetting it the second I get out of this car.”

“Or, because now I know you only live six minutes away from me and as friends you should call me whenever you want to hang out.”

“I’ll pass. I have enough friends.” I notice a dimple in his cheek. “How come you don’t have any of your own?”

“I have some associates, but I don’t think too many people at Blue Harbor know what real friendship is.”

“Sometimes I feel that way, too,” I say. “It’s all based on social ladders and stuff, and who wants to be seen with who. And it’s like people are just trying hard to fit in and be liked to keep friends.”

“Exactly.” He pauses. “So, if you had six friends who were at the secret pool party you had at the school, how come only you are in detention with me?”

“How did you know there were six other people?” I look over at him in shock. “And who told you about the pool party at all?”

“Doesn’t really matter. Those don’t seem like real friends to me.”

“First of all,” I say, narrowing my eyes at him, “I’ve known you for all of what? Two days?”

“Two weeks.”

“Second of all, all of the people there weren’t my true friends—just Genevieve Porter. And even though it’s none of your business, I decided to take the blame because she’s already been in trouble this school year for trespassing and if she’d got caught again, she probably would’ve been expelled. She would’ve done the same for me, and she’s done plenty of things for me long before I ever met you.”

“Things like what?”

“I don’t have to explain myself to you.” I lean forward and turn on the radio, switching it to a pop station before turning up the volume.

He doesn’t talk to me for the rest of ride. When he pulls in front of my house, I unbuckle my seatbelt and nearly jump out of the car, but he grabs my hand.

“I got sentenced to detention because I broke into the school the same night as you all did,” he said, his blue eyes on mine. “I was planning to do laps in the pool to clear my mind, but I saw you there. You were trying to help some passed out guy breathe...Was that your boyfriend?”

“No.” I shake my head. “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

He looks relieved. “Anyway, when I saw the rest of your friends still swimming and drinking on the other side of the pool, I called 9-1-1 from the locker room phone.”

My face pales. All this time, I could’ve sworn Genevieve told me that she was the one who called. She’d been so adamant that none of us call using our cell phones that I thought she slipped away to call while I tried to help Brynn.

“And after that...” Jace is still looking at me and holding my hand. “I went to the main office and destroyed all the security footage since you guys failed to do it when you first got there. I think that’s the main reason I’m in detention.” He smiles. “I forgot to destroy the tape of me destroying the other tapes.”

I stare at him in utter shock, my cheeks reddening with every second that passes. “If you’re expecting me to invite you inside or to sleep with you to say thank you, then I’m going to have to disappoint you.”

He laughs and squeezes my hand. “I honestly hate that I didn’t meet you sooner, under different circumstance. I like your sense of humor.”

“I wasn’t joking about the sex.”

Still laughing, he finally lets my hand go. Then he gets out of the car and walks over to my side of the car, opening the door for me.

He walks me up to my front door, and once I’ve turned the key, he clears his throat.

“Thank you very much, Jace,” I say, looking up at him. “I appreciate the ride home, and the not so invisible help from you that night. I’ll find a way to pay you back. Want me to start by bringing more snacks to share with you during detention?”

“I was thinking you could start by giving me your phone number.”

I blush. “My boyfriend wouldn’t like that.”

“You just said you didn’t have a boyfriend.”

“Right, well...” I recite my number fast—so fast I’m sure he doesn’t catch it. Then I thank him for the ride again and go upstairs to my room.

From the windows, I watch him return to his car and pull away, and I can’t help but feel like this is the exact type of moment that I should want to share with Genevieve. I’m sure that I should want to call and replay every single moment that just happened in excruciating detail, but I don’t.

Instead, I flop onto my bed and pull open my diary. I pen a quick entry, and then I open my debate folder.

At least she’s kept that promise to me all this time.

As I’m writing down the list of this week’s current national cases, my phone buzzes. It’s a text from an unknown number.

Unknown number: This is Jace. You should save my number permanently just in case you need it. (Are you allowed to talk to guys on the phone?)

I immediately text back.

Me: I can’t believe you actually understood how fast I was speaking...I’ll hold off on saving this permanently, though. (Of course, I’m allowed to talk to guys on the phone. I’m not twelve...Why?)

Unknown number: I can’t believe you think I didn’t already have your phone number. I was just asking for it before putting it to use... (Pick up when I call you at eight.)

Me: (Beg me to, and I’ll think about it.)

Unknown number: (If I thought I had to**beg** you to, I wouldn’t bother you at all...)

I stare at my screen for a full hour—thinking of all the things the girl characters said to the guy characters whenever they called during the summer soap operas. I try to think of a list of topics that we can talk about, just in case the line goes silent, but I never end up using it.

He calls me right at eight, and I’m not sure how, but by the time we hang up, it’s time for us to get ready for another day of school.