"Please, Luna," she begged, tugging on the girl's arm as if that would persuade her. Luna shook her arm weakly, attempting to pull herself free from Madeline, but she held on tightly like a nagging child. "I can't do it alone."

"No," Luna snapped. She lifted her head, turning her gaze away from Maddie. "You got yourself into this."

"No, I did not," Madeline corrected immediately. "He did this. I'm the victim here."

"You're the victim?" Luna questioned with a raise of her brow. She picked up the pace of her strides in hopes that it would discourage Madeline from badgering her as they walked down the crowded hallway.

"Is it really so hard to believe?"

"I didn't say that," Luna pushed open the door to the courtyard. She sighed, "It's just, you have a tendency – actually both of you do – to retaliate."

Madeline scoffed, "Yeah, but still. He started it."

"And you wanted to finish it. That's how it always goes." Her brows furrowed. "Or, used to go. You know, before you two started solving all your problems by having sex. Hey, maybe that's what you can do this time, too!"

Madeline rolled her eyes, "You're not funny. And we did not solve our problems by having sex. We solved our problems, and then had s-"

Luna held up a hand, "I actually have zero interest in hearing about your sex life with him."

"You started it," Madeline shrugged. "Just like he started the argument that got us into detention!"

"Okay, he started it, but you could have ignored whatever he said that initially got the fight started. You chose to respond, and that's on you."

"I deserve detention for standing up for myself?"

Luna eyed her over. "Were you standing up for yourself, or were you trying to make him feel as attacked as he made you feel?"

Madeline opened her mouth to speak, but averted her eyes and eventually decided against saying anything at all.

"Exactly," Luna affirmed. They were drawing near to where Dylan was already sitting, a couple of girls from the cheerleading squad looming over him, and soon he would be in earshot of their conversation. "Look, I know it sucks, but I'm not getting myself into a detention because you and Carson can't figure your shit out. It's a long-time coming, anyways."

"Meaning?"

"You and Carson fought about something nearly every day for most of high school. Getting a detention for it was bound to happen eventually. I'm actually shocked it took so long– it's kind or ironic, too-" she cut herself off with a shake of her head. "Anyways, just drop it. It's an hour of your life, I think you can manage."

Just as they were about to sit down opposite of Dylan, the girls were startled by a heavy arm landing on their shoulders. Jason squeezed in between them, pulling them into his side and almost causing all three of them to topple forward.

"Jason!" Madeline exclaimed angrily, trying, and failing, to shove him away.

"What a beautiful day!" He gushed, smiling gleefully as he pulled them down to sit. Luna made a disgruntled noise as she flattened out her skirt, and Madeline edged away to put some space in between them.

"If by beautiful, you mean hot and sticky, then yes, it's a wonderful day," Dylan chimed in.

"Who shoved a stick up your ass?" Zach's voice came from behind them. Luna, Maddie, and Jason all turned to see Zach walking up them, Samantha holding on to his hand. They sat down on Maddie's other side, as Dylan responded with the middle finger.

Most of the group assumed Zach and Samantha would only last a matter of weeks, or however long it took for him to grow bored of his 'rebound,' or her personality to detract from her good looks. It came as a surprise to all of them that they stayed together throughout the school year, and seemed genuinely happy together. She was younger, and definitely acted younger, but her immaturity was pretty level with Zach's, so it wasn't a glaring issue.

Luna had surprisingly been the first to take a step towards welcoming her into the friend group. Samantha had been obviously hesitant to involve herself too much in the inner-workings of the friend group, and clung on to Zach any time they were all together and would stay mostly silent unless someone said something to her. It wasn't as though any of them were rude to her, but none of them wanted to put in the effort to befriend a girl they were certain would be badmouthing Zach in a week's time.

One night, maybe a month after Zach initially introduced them to Samantha, Maddie was sleeping over at Luna's for their regular girls' night. Luna had taken it upon herself to call Samantha and ask if she wanted to join them. It wasn't nearly as awkward as Maddie thought it would be, and Samantha was really easy-going once she opened up.

After that, Samantha felt more comfortable talking around the entire group, and no longer relied on Zach so heavily. There were a lot of times Maddie and Luna preferred to be on their own – and Samantha had her own group of her friends that were her age – but they would make the effort to invite her to hang with them every so often.

"I agree," Samantha said, using her hand to fan herself. "It's way too hot outside. Why are we eating out here?"

"It's not the heat," Zach declared, holding up a finger pointedly. "It's the humidity that really gets you."

The group exchanged blank looks back and forth. Dylan turned to Samantha, "Are you punching him or should I?"

Before Samantha could respond, Carson came storming over, plopping down on the grass next to Dylan and stealing the bag of chips from out of his hands. "Sorry I'm late," he mumbled out before Dylan engaged him in a short-lived wrestling match for the bag of chips. Eventually, he snatched them free and whacked the back of Carson's head. "I was trying to get myself out of detention." His eyes moved over in Madeline's direction, but didn't linger long enough to catch her glare.

"Oh my God," Luna groaned. "I physically cannot handle hearing one more complaint about this stupid detention."

"But it is stupid," Madeline argued.

Luna rolled her eyes, "Shut up. Both of you. Not another word."

Madeline and Carson remained silent, and Jason whispered something that sounded a lot like 'okay, mommy' under his breath but everyone chose to ignore that, too.

"Has anyone started packing for Paris yet?" Dylan asked. Madeline kicked out her feet in front of her, crossing one ankle over the other.

Carson's brows furrowed together, "The trip's like two weeks from now?"

"Okay, and? It's never too early to start." Dylan sat up straight, placing his bag of chips on the ground in front of him. Jason mumbled a 'here we go' under his breath, sensing the forthcoming lecture that Dylan was gearing up for. "A overseas trip requires a lot of planning. You have to take into account more than just the bare necessities: you need toiletries, weather-appropriate clothing, medicine, electronics, emergency– you know what, I can actually just send you all my checklist because-"

"I stopped listening about five minutes ago," Madeline interrupted around the same time Zach let out a really loud, exaggerated yawn.

"We all did," Carson affirmed.

"Fine," Dylan surrendered, grumpily. "But don't come crying to me when you accidentally leave behind your laptop charger or you run out of clean clothes because you didn't pack yourself enough shirts."

"Okay, mom," Luna jibed. "This is all coming from the same person who forget his swim trunks the time we went to Myrtle Beach."

Madeline laughed, "Oh my God, Sammie, you have to see the pictures." She placed a hand on the girl's arm as she pulled out her phone, opening up to her photos and beginning to scroll. "We stopped at a small shop by the beach to get him a swim suit, and the only one they had in his size were these horrendous-" She cut herself off as she landed on the picture, enlarging it so Samantha could see.

In the photo, a grumpy-faced Dylan was giving the camera a middle finger and poorly attempting to hide the image on his swim trunks. They were short and a vibrant pink, and right over the groin area was the face of a rooster, and in large, purple letters were the words "STOP LOOKING AT MY COCK."

Samantha brought a hand up to her mouth to hide her laughter as Madeline practically fell into her lap from laughing so hard.

"I forgot about this," Zach grinned, taking Madeline's phone out of her hand to get a closer look. Samantha pulled away from Maddie and leaned her chin on Zach's shoulder to get a second look at the picture. "This was such a fun day."

Madeline's phone was circled around the group – bypassing Dylan, who shoved the phone away from him like it was the plague – so every one could relive the glory of Dylan's worst moment.

"In my defense, that was nearly four years ago, and you all made the plans to go there that morning and didn't tell me until you showed up at my house and banged on the front door until I answered."

"We all managed to remember a swim suit," Jason argued.

"It was six in the morning, and you all shoved me into the back of Luna's mother's car almost as soon as I opened the door. I didn't exactly have time to think it through."

"It's not that big of a deal, Dyl," Madeline smiled. "It's just a great memory to share at your wedding."

Dylan glared at her, "I swear to God-"

"Oh, would you like us to save it for the funeral?" Carson asked. "We can include the photo in a slideshow."

"Ooh, I do love a good slideshow!" Jason cheered.

"That picture goes no where."

"Loosen up," Luna chuckled, handing Madeline her phone back. "If I remember correctly, everyone at the beach loved your swim suit."

Dylan shook his head with a groan coming from the back of his throat, "Can we get back to the topic at hand, please?"

Samantha tapped on Maddie's shoulder, a grin spread across her lips. "Could you send that to me, please?" Madeline let out a laugh and nodded her head, as she went back on her phone to send the photo to Sam... and the group chat.

"Maddie! Sammie!" Dylan exclaimed. Both of them turned their heads toward Dylan, whose face had gone red with frustration.

"What?" Maddie asked exasperated, holding her hands up in surrender.

"This is important."

Samantha rolled her eyes, "Not for me. I'm not a senior, so it doesn't really concern me."

Madeline nodded her head, "And I'm not going, so it doesn't concern me either."

Jason opened his mouth to say something, but Luna elbow him in the rib. With a sigh, he fell backwards, practically collapsing into the grass. Maddie eyed them wearily, but no one else seemed to find it odd, so she let it go. Zach started talking about Paris again, something that he wanted to see, and everyone got excited again. They all carried on talking about the trip, and Madeline sat quietly, listening, and trying not to regret her decision.

*

"Alright, you two," the teacher grumbled as she unlocked the door and pushed it open. "Sit wherever, and get comfy."

The old woman, Mrs. Murphy, shuffled her way to the desk, each step looking labored. She eyed them over warily, her mouth twisted down. She pointed her finger in their direction, "I want no funny business today."

They watched as she lowered herself into her seat, heaving out a great sigh. Madeline and Carson shared a glance – as if they were going to trade a nonverbal joke, or strike a bet on how long it would be before Mrs. Murphy fell asleep because, if things were how they once were, that's what the glance would mean – but it was fleeting, and Carson was moving away from her within a second.

Maddie sighed, eyeing the teacher once before heading for the back row of seats and choosing one close to the center. Carson sat down a couple away from her, closer to the window.

It was deathly silent for a long time, the loudest sound coming from the analog clock hanging above the classroom door. It wasn't uncomfortable, though, and it gave Madeline enough time to think. She kept her eyes trained on the front of the room, watching the teacher intently.

Mrs. Murphy was an odd woman with think pink glasses that rested on her crooked nose. Her hair was mostly white, but a few silver strands were mixed into the nest of tattered curls. She was well past the age of retirement, but she refused to leave and the school refused to fire her, so she taught only two psychology classes each day and was responsible for proctoring most after-school detentions now. Madeline had avoided getting a detention all year, but Jason and Zach had landed themselves in detention nearly every week, and had snuck out halfway through almost every time, when Mrs. Murphy would fall asleep.

Madeline watched patiently, waiting for Mrs. Murphy to fall asleep. The old woman had a book open in her hands, resting it on the curve of her stomach, but she hadn't flipped the page over in ten minutes, going on eleven. Her eyelids were hooded, but Maddie wasn't fully certain yet if the teacher was sleeping or just an extremely slow reader.

When the first snore sounded, Madeline sighed and leaned back in her seat, and dared to look over at Carson for the first time, finding that he was already looking at her. It wasn't a glare, surprisingly, just an intense gaze. She raised a brow, but his eyes remained steady.

"What?" She asked.

He shrugged, "I didn't say anything."

"You don't have to." It wasn't meant to sting, but the underlying subtext – 'it's me, and I know you' – did. Carson hid his discomfort by turning his head to look out the window.

While he was distracted, Madeline took the time to look him over, really look him over. They'd been broken up three, maybe four, weeks. Was it possible for someone to look completely changed in that time, or was her mind simply playing tricks on her?

Everything seemed the same about him. The dark brown hair that curled just slightly at the ends that was about a month overdue for a cut; the tightness of his shirt over his chest and arms, like if he breathed wrong the fabric would rip; the uneven slope of his nose that she had traced with her finger probably a thousand times over; even on his fingernails, if you squinted closely enough, she could see the remnants of the pink nail polish she painted on weeks ago when she was bored. It was the same Carson, but yet he felt so far away from what she knew.

When he turned back, Madeline brought her eyes back to his, not bothered that he had probably caught her staring.

"You're seriously not gonna go?" He whispered.

"Huh?"

"Paris. You're not gonna go?"

Madeline pursed her lips. She glanced at the teacher; the book had now slipped from her hands and rested haphazardly on the bulge of her stomach, threatening to fall at any moment.

"I really don't want to talk about this with you," she muttered.

"We have twenty minutes to kill. We're going to have to talk about something."

Madeline let out a small laugh, "Really? You haven't wanted to talk to me in nearly a month. Why should we start now?"

They both startled as a loud slap echoed through the air. Their heads turned to the front of the room, sourcing the noise out. The book had fallen to the ground, waking up Mrs. Murphy immediately. The grumpy woman bent with a groan to pick the book up and eyed Madeline and Carson over skeptically. She sat herself up straight and placed the book flat on the desk and began reading it once again, pretending as if she had never fallen asleep in the first place.

Madeline and Carson went back to their previous silence. Carson stared intently at Maddie, Maddie stared intently at Mrs. Murphy, and Mrs. Murphy – after a whopping five minutes – stared intently at the back of her eyelids.

"I have wanted to talk to you," Carson said quietly. Maddie slowly turned back to him. "Everyday. For nearly a month." He didn't need to continue for Madeline to understand him. "Not talking to you is the hardest thing for me."

It was the hardest thing for her, too. Carson knew her in and out. He was the first person, and usually the only person, she would talk to on a Monday morning, when she was in a grumpy mood. He was the final person she talked to every night, either over the phone, if he actually managed to stay at his own house, or right before they turned off the light on Maddie's nightstand.

Some days, Madeline's mood depended on talking to Carson, or how often she got to talk to Carson, and if she wasn't talking to Carson, then she was probably talking about Carson. Living like strangers – like he didn't know the exact location of the secret stash of chocolate in her bedroom and she didn't know the names of his two imaginary friends from his childhood – didn't feel right.

"So talk to me."

"Paris."

Madeline shook her head, "Not that."

"Why not?"

She glared at him, "Carson."

"Madeline."

"I'm not going."

"Madeline," he said again.

"I'm serious, Carson, just leave it alone. I'm not going."

"Tell me why."

"No."

He sighed, leaning back against the seat. "I want you to go." Carson waited patiently to react, but the response was minimal. Her eyes softened for a moment before she recollected herself and asserted, "I don't care."

Carson crossed his arms over his chest, stretching his legs out in front of him. "So, it's not because of me that you won't go?"

"No. Of course not."

"Really?"

"I will pay you to shut up."

Finally, the clock let out an especially loud tick, putting an end to their hour of detention. An alarm on the teacher's phone went off, and she suddenly pushed herself up from the seat, feigning as if she hadn't fallen asleep– again.

"Alright, you're both free to go."

"Thank you, Ma'am," Carson responded while slipping out of his seat. He charged to the front of the classroom, directly to Mrs. Murphy's desk. "Before we go, I just need to drop this off with you. I apologize, it's so last minute."

Madeline watched curiously as he handed the teacher a thing stack of papers, neatly stapled together. A small green slip was attached to the stack by a paperclip and Madeline squinted, edging herself forward, to see what it was. Mrs. Murphy eyed them over before accepting them with a meek 'thank you.' Once she took the papers out of his hands, Carson left the desk, swiftly making his way out of the room.

It occurred to her a few moments too late what the green slip was, and what the stack of papers must have been. By now, Carson had to be at least halfway down the hall. Her eyes widened and she rushed out of the classroom, tearing down the hallway to catch him.

"Carson!" She called out, hoping he would make this easy and just stop. He ignored her for a few seconds, nearly getting to the front doors before he paused.

He turned around to face her, an air of nonchalance and innocence about him. "Yes?"

"Why would you do that?" She demanded of him. He hadn't moved away from the doors, one palm still wrapped around the handle, which angered her even more. She edged closer to him.

"Do what?"

She ground her teeth, narrowing her eyes at him. "I didn't ask you to do that."

He shrugged, "There was no other way to get you to come. And I know you want to come."