“FIRST,” Drayden roared, pacing the length of his desk like a caged animal, “I FIND THAT YOU DECIDE TO START YOUR DAY BY ELBOWING POOR MILES RIGHT IN HIS NOSE!”

  Ace and C.C. fell silent, shrinking into their chairs, too afraid to make any sudden movements. Even lifting their eyes felt like a death wish.

  “NOT TO MENTION,” Drayden continued, spinning sharply on his heel, “YOU LEAVING HIM BLEEDING IN THE BATHROOM AFTER BEING SPECIFICALLY ASSIGNED TO CARE FOR HIM!”

  He stopped dead in front of Ace, a glare boring straight through him. The silence that followed was worse than the shouting.

  “And then,” Drayden thundered, “I WALK THROUGH OUR WONDERFUL MULTI-MILLION DOLLAR SPORTING FACILITY, ONLY TO FIND YOU TWO MALICIOUSLY COORDINATING A HARMFUL PRANK ON OTHER STUDENTS!”

  The room went still. Drayden planted both hands on his desk, knuckles whitening as his slicked-back hair came loose, dark strands falling out of place across his forehead. His eyes flicked between Ace and C.C., daring one of them to speak.

  Ace’s throat tightened. His heart hammered in his chest. “S-sir, i-it was an accident” Ace muttered, quickly glancing up through his eyebrows at Principal Drayden before dropping them back down to the ground.

  “Oh?” Drayden said softly — dangerously. He pulled out his chair and leaned over the desk, his shadow stretching across Ace’s lap. “An accident, was it?”

  “So, you’re telling me,” he went on, voice rising again, “that you accidentally left Miles alone in the bathroom... accidentally walked back to class... and accidentally sat down to finish your work?”

  Each word landed like a blow. Ace felt the weight of the excuse collapse in on itself. He said nothing.

  “Or what about how you ‘accidentally’ threw your ball up in the air so that MR. CATO CARTER OVER HERE COULD LAUNCH HIS BALL AT ANOTHER STUDENTS GENITALS!” Drayden snapped, straightening abruptly.

  Ace’s chest burned. His vision blurred, a sour sting rising behind his eyes as he fought to keep the tears from spilling over. He hated being yelled at — hated how small it made him feel - how exposed.

  Beside him, C.C. shifted. A quiet snort slipped out before he could stop it. Drayden’s head whipped around. Slowly, a tight smile crept across his face as he clasped his hands together on the desk.

  “Sorry, Cato,” he said evenly. “Did you find something funny?”

  “Sir, no sir,” C.C. mumbled, covering his mouth to hide the obvious grin that wouldn’t leave his face.

  “You sure? Because I don’t find anything humorous about this situation!”

  “N-neither do I sir. Very serious. The whole thing,” C.C. managed to compose himself, a light smile staining his face as he dropped his hand.

  Drayden narrowed his eyes, then slowly retreated into his chair. He straightened his posture, smoothing a hand through his hair as if pulling himself back into control. “Now,” he said at last, his voice low, heavy, final, “the two of you will serve a 2-hour detention in the library where you will each write a 500-word apology to both Miles and Jaxson.”

  The scratch of his pen cut through the silence as he opened a red folder and began to write. The sound felt impossibly loud, each stroke deliberate and permanent, like he was carving their sentence into stone. The words hit Ace like a physical blow.

  An apology. To Jaxson.

  Humiliation settled deep in his chest, thick and suffocating. His throat tightened, vision blurring as tears welled despite his effort to stop them. One slipped free, tracing a cold line down his cheek. He had lost. No matter what he did, no matter how carefully he tried to do the right thing, the world always shoved him back into the same place. The quiet kid. The harmless one. The one people could push without consequence. Fighting back only seemed to prove their point. Even when he was right, he still paid for it.

  His fists clenched, nails dug into his palms as heat flared in his chest. He wanted to stand. To shout. To slam his hands on the desk and demand something that resembled fairness. But he stayed seated. Because he already knew how that would end.

  “Now hold on just a damn minute!” C.C.’s voice cut through the silence like a whip. “Why do I have to write an apology to Miles?”

  “Why?! You almost broke his nose that’s why!” Drayden bellowed.

  “He was asking for it! Called me all sorts of slurs!”

  “I don’t care what he called you, you’re a moron anyway! Regardless, it is no excuse to resort to physical violence!” Drayden yelled, his fist slamming against the desk.

  “What’d you want me to do, huh?” C.C. leaned forward, his tone sharp, mocking. “Politely ask him to stop? Maybe get on my knees and beg? Bark like a dog?” He let out a bitter laugh. “You don’t get it yet, sir. In this world, the only way to get what you want is to be the biggest and strongest guy in the room.” He leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest, a half-smirk twisting his mouth. “Had I not thrown that elbow, he’d still be running his mouth. Some people only learn one way.”

  Drayden’s nostrils flared as his hands tightened into fists against his desk. His face reddened, breathing unsteady, a man on the edge of losing control.

  C.C. didn’t blink. He just shrugged, tone almost playful. “I can write a sentence at best. Take it or leave it.”

  The silence that followed felt dangerous. Ace sat frozen beside him, caught between awe and dread, the air around them thick with the weight of everything unsaid. Principal Drayden closed his eyes, taking a long deep breath through his nose, pinching the bridge, and holding it in for longer than necessary. Ace and C.C. leaned back in their seats expecting him to explode, covering their ears and preparing for the worst. What followed was a deep exhale, Drayden opened his eyes and pulled out another folder from his desk. Filled with airport flyers and pictures of beautiful beaches and clear blue skies, he slid over a document to each of them. Ace looked over at the desk, noticing the format being similar to an excursion form.

  “Next month, your entire class will be taking an all paid for trip to Greece. While there, you will learn of its history, studying some of the greatest philosophers and mathematicians of all time. And of course, enjoying what all the islands have to offer,” Drayden said calmly.

  The two boys looked at each other in disbelief, almost confused as to why they were being told such delicate information. They were sure they were going to have their ears ripped from their skin, yet now they are being told about a trip that seemed too good to be true.

  “What’s the catch?” C.C. asked raising an eyebrow curiously.

  “Oh no, no catch at all.” Drayden replied.

  “Sir, this sounds amazing!” Ace chipped in.

  “I’m glad you think so,” Drayden said coldly. “Because if I catch either of you causing any trouble on school grounds—,” he cracked his neck to the side, the sound sharp in the silence, then planted both hands on his desk and slowly stood.

  This was it.

  This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

  “I’LL WIPE MY ASS WITH YOUR FLIGHT TICKETS,” Drayden roared, “AND MAKE SURE YOU’RE BOTH STUCK PICKING UP RUBBISH IN THE FREEZING COLD WHILE EVERYONE ELSE IS SWIMMING IN CRYSTAL-CLEAR WATER AND EATING AND DRINKING AS MUCH AS THEY WANT!”

  His voice shook the room. The walls seemed to vibrate with it. Ace’s ears rang, the sound dull and distant, like he’d been hit underwater.

  “NOW GET OUT!”

  Neither of them moved at first. Then instinct kicked in. Chairs scraped loudly as Ace and C.C. stumbled to their feet, still dazed, and hurried out of the office without looking back.

  “Don’t let the doorframe hit you on the way out” Drayden added as C.C. barely ducked his head in time to clear it.

  The door slammed shut behind them, sealing Drayden’s fury inside and leaving its echo ringing in their heads.

  The day dragged on, every second stretching into minutes. The clock on the wall ticked with cruel patience, its hands moving slower than they should have, as if time itself refused to let anyone leave. The air in the classroom was heavy, thick with the smell of old paper and dry ink. Even the sunlight filtering through the windows felt sluggish, dust drifting lazily in the beams. Every sound seemed louder in the quiet. Minute after minute, class after class, the inevitability of an apology letter to Jaxson weighed down on Ace’s shoulders, just as one to Miles did to C.C.

  They stood still as the rest of the school surged past them, backpacks slung over shoulders, laughter echoing through the halls. High-fives cracked against palms. Friends hugged goodbye. Lockers slammed shut in rapid succession as everyone packed up and poured toward the exits. C.C. watched it all with growing irritation. He nudged Ace’s shoulder.

  “I’m not staying in this dump, Ace.” He muttered. “We gotta get out of here.”

  Ace hesitated. “How? We can’t just leave... can we?”

  “Of course we can,” C.C. said instantly. His eyes swept the gates, searching for any sign of Drayden. When he didn’t spot him, a grin tugged at his mouth. “Time for one of my brilliant plans,” he whispered. “If we grab our stuff fast and push into the middle of the chaos, we’ll slip right through.”

  It was risky. But it wasn’t stupid.

  Ace swallowed, then nodded. They took off down the hallway, weaving through the crowd, bumping shoulders and dodging swinging backpacks. Their hearts pounded, half fear, half thrill as they raced against the thinning rush of students. They cut corners too fast, breathless, the cool air from outside crashing against their flushed faces as the exit drew closer. They reached their lockers just in time. Ace’s hands shook as he fumbled with his keys, jamming them into the lock and twisting again and again, waiting for the satisfying click that refused to come.

  Beside him, C.C. scanned the hallway, chest heaving. He slammed a fist against the metal lockers, the clang echoing loudly. “No! Fuck, where is it?!” C.C. cried out, tangling his hands in his hair.

  “What’s wrong? What is it?” Ace replied finally opening his locker.

  “My bag! I can’t find my bag!”

  “What do you mean you can’t find it?”

  “What do you mean?! I can’t find my bag! I’m speaking clear fucking English Ace!”

  Ace attempted to help, stepping away from his locker and looking around him.

  “Damn it man, I can’t see it anywhere!”

  A voice cut through their frantic scrambling, sharp enough to make both of them freeze. Their heads snapped toward the sound.

  “You know bags left outside lockers get taken to lost and found, right?” Lexi stood a few steps away, arms folded, an amused smile tugging at her lips. Lily hovered beside her, shifting her weight from foot to foot.

  C.C. let out a defeated huff and glanced at Ace. The fight drained out of both of them at once, their shoulders slumping. There was no way they could grab C.C.’s bag from the library and still slip out unnoticed. Not with the librarian watching the doors.

  Detention wasn’t just likely now. It was unavoidable.

  “We’re still on to hang out, right?” Lexi asked, tilting her head up towards C.C.

  “Ugh, I wish,” C.C. groaned, leaning back against the lockers. “But Ace and I copped a detention from ‘Gayden’.” He let his head thud softly against the metal.

  “Damn,” Lexi said, unfazed. “Sucks to be you. Have fun.” She laughed and turned away. Lily gave them a small wave, her eyes flicking briefly to Ace before she hurried after Lexi, their voices fading down the hall.

  Ace watched them go, something heavy settling in his chest. C.C. turned sharply and drove his fist into his locker. The crack of knuckles against metal echoed down the corridor, the door buckling inward before creaking open on its own.

  “DAMN IT!” he snapped. “This isn’t fair! ‘Gayden’ just cockblocked both of us!” Ace flinched at the sound, but said nothing.

  Moments later, they pushed through the library doors. The noise of the hallway vanished instantly, replaced by silence and the soft scent of paper and lavender. Rows of tall shelves stretched out before them, the space empty and still. The librarian glanced up from her book, already tired. She slid an attendance sheet across the desk with two fingers.

  “Sign your names,” she said flatly. She didn’t wait for a response.

  Ace and C.C. scribbled their names and entry time, then drifted deeper into the library. After retrieving C.C.’s bag from lost and found, they settled into a pair of cushioned chairs tucked away in a shadowed corner, hidden from doors, windows, and most importantly, the librarian’s line of sight. The silence finally closed in around them.

  “Dude, I’m NOT writing a letter to Milo. Jaxson I can stand, but not that rat,” C.C. huffed as he sat in the chair, pulling out his phone and scrolling through it.

  Ace took out his note pad, clicking at his pen and beginning his letter to Miles first.

  “We don’t have a choice man. You heard Drayden. Besides, Milo isn’t as bad as Jaxson,” Ace replied as he balanced the notepad on his lap, slouching forwards for comfort.

  “Speak for yourself. Jaxson isn’t dating the girl I like.”

  “Yeah, thanks for reminding me...”

  “Milo on the other hand! Up my ass for everything! He’s like a mosquito bite. You have this strong urge to just itch it, which in this case would be hitting him, but if you do, it just gets worse!”

  “Come on man. Milo means well. He’s a good friend. Jaxson on the other hand is...well he’s just a dick. I can’t escape him. And now I have to write this dumb letter to him...”

  C.C. sighed and reached across the table, tearing a sheet from Ace’s notebook without asking. The soft rip echoed louder than it should have in the library’s silence. They wrote without speaking, pens scratching in uneven rhythms, surrounded by shelves heavy with books no one was reading. Ace’s hand moved on autopilot. His mind was somewhere else, trapped on something C.C. had said earlier in Drayden’s office.

  ‘The only way to get what you want is to be the strongest guy in the room’

  The idea refused to let go.

  Jaxson didn’t torment him because he was clever, or right, or justified. He did it because he could. Because power, once held, didn’t need permission. It didn’t need logic. It didn’t need to explain itself. Ace knew he didn’t have that kind of power. He never had. He was quieter. Built for words instead of fists. When he was cornered, he argued. He reasoned. He asked people to stop. He relied on logic and restraint, clinging to the belief that if he said the right thing, eventually it would work.

  But it never did.

  Words didn’t stop Miles’s arm from nearly snapping. Words didn’t stop a punch mid-swing. They didn’t stop the knot in his stomach when Jaxson walked into a room. They didn’t silence the memories that replayed late at night, the laughter, the looks, the humiliation that stuck long after the moment ended.

  Words only asked. Power decided.

  And violence, even the threat of it, changed things. Not because it was right, but because it worked. It restricted freedom. It introduced consequence. It forced hesitation where none existed before. That was the truth Ace couldn’t escape. Walking away didn’t erase anything. It just delayed it. The hatred lingered, spreading behind his back, festering where he couldn’t see it. And apologizing felt like surrender, like permission for it all to continue. What stopped torment wasn’t pleading or patience.

  It was punishment.

  Some consequence heavy enough to outweigh the pleasure of cruelty. Something real. Something final.

  Ace’s pen paused mid-sentence. His chest tightened. The thought scared him, not because it felt wrong, but because part of him knew it felt true. And that was the most dangerous thing of all.

  The goodness in his heart suffers, while cruelty thrives.

  Time ticked by, Ace striking his signature at the bottom of his apology to Miles. Part of the words he had written down were a scrambled mess of waffling to reach the word count, though the first few sentences were Ace’s genuine attempt at showing his appreciation for having Miles as a friend. However, the same couldn’t be said for C.C., who chewed at his pencil, foot drumming against the carpet as he struggled to move past his first sentence.

  “Psst! What’s the time?” C.C. whispered.

  Ace pulled up his sleeve, looking down at his watch. “3:47pm.”

  “What? It hasn’t even been an hour?” C.C. hissed, disbelief sharp in his voice.

  He sank lower into the cushioned chair, legs stretching out in front of him as if trying to escape the stillness. The library felt frozen in time. The only sound was the faint hum of air circulating somewhere above them. C.C.’s gaze drifted upward, tracing the ceiling. Long metal vents ran across it like exposed veins, zigzagging through the room before disappearing into the walls. One section rattled softly, the vibration barely noticeable, but enough.

  His eyes narrowed. A slow grin tugged at the corner of his mouth once more. Ace noticed it immediately. That look C.C. got when boredom turned into mischief. That’s when C.C. had yet another brilliant idea.

  “What? What are you thinking?” Ace whispered, leaning forward in his chair.

  “I’m thinking,” C.C. murmured, pushing himself to his feet, “of escaping this joint.”

  Before Ace could respond, C.C. slipped away, moving between the shelves as if he’d done it a hundred times before. He peeked around the edge of the aisle, craning his neck just enough to see the front desk. Miss Finch sat motionless in her chair, eyes locked on her computer screen, the glow reflecting off her glasses. C.C. hurried back, dropping into a crouch beside Ace.

  “We can’t just leave,” Ace hissed. “She’s got a perfect view of the door. She sees everything that comes in and out.”

  C.C. shrugged. “Yeah, I know. So, we get around her. We cause a distraction.”

  “A distraction?”

  “Tip over a few books. Knock a shelf loose. Something loud.”

  Ace’s stomach twisted. “I—I don’t know, man. If we get caught...”

  “That’s the key word,” C.C. cut in. “If we get caught. And we won’t.”

  Ace dragged a hand through his hair. “What about once we’re outside? We can’t just walk out the front gate. The office will see us.”

  C.C. paused, eyes lighting up. “Wait. There’s a back door near the gym. Nobody ever uses it. We take that, hop the fence, and we’re home free.”

  Ace blinked. “What? Hop the fence? What about my bike?”

  C.C. waved it off. “Walk home. Think of it as cardio.”

  “C.C.!”

  “Okay, okay,” he sighed. “I’ll throw it over.”

  “Throw my bike over?” Ace’s voice jumped an octave.

  “Shh!” C.C. grabbed his sleeve, dragging him closer. “Do you want to announce it to the entire library? That fence is about two metres high. You’re not getting that bike over it. I am.”

  Ace hesitated, glancing toward Miss Finch’s desk, then back at C.C. “We could just wait it out. Finish detention. Leave like normal people.”

  “Nope.” C.C. straightened, resolve settling in his posture. “Not happening. I’m leaving. You’re either in or you’re out.”

  Ace exhaled slowly, forcing his breathing to steady. His heart still hammered against his ribs, loud enough that he was sure someone could hear it. He wasn’t built for this, the sneaking, the risk, the quiet rebellion. Where C.C. saw an opening, Ace saw consequences. He always had. His mind raced ahead to the worst outcome before the best one even had a chance to form.

  Ace followed rules not because he loved them, but because they were predictable. Safe. Rules meant fewer surprises, fewer moments where things spun out of control. Trouble had a way of finding him even when he did everything right, so inviting it felt reckless. Even when no one was watching, he hesitated. Not out of fear of punishment, but fear of the spiral that followed. The lectures, the disappointment, the way one bad choice could snowball into something worse. Risk, to Ace, rarely felt worth the reward. Comfort lived in routine, in staying unnoticed, in keeping his head down and surviving the day without adding new scars.

  And yet, standing there now, he felt the rules pulling him one way, and C.C.’s certainty tugging him the other. The memory of Drayden’s office still burned in his chest. The shouting, the sentence, the humiliation of being forced to apologize to someone who had tormented him without consequence. For once, the rules didn’t feel like protection. They felt like a cage.

  This wasn’t just about detention anymore. It was about deciding whether he would keep letting people shove him back into place, or whether he could prove, at least to himself, that he wasn’t powerless. He could think. He could adapt. He could outsmart the people who kept winning simply because they were louder, stronger, or crueller.

  Ace swallowed, the weight of the choice pressing down on him.

  “...Fine,” he muttered. “Fine. I’m in.”

  C.C. grinned.

  Will They Escape?