Scenes of The Awkward: Detention Confidential
Detention; Not the WB-inspired, Recess rip-off Detention, but real detention, complete with the no-goodniks, repeat derelicts, the bad, bad girls, and probably the stoners.
Detention was the one-stop shop for the full-time slackers, the random troublemaker, and those who saw one too may rap music videos in their lifetime. In short, detention was a guidance counselor's paradise. Only this time, on the first day of classes, they were only two detainees picked up for their wrongdoing. Rarely would D-Hall ever go without it's vast repertoire of reprobates, drama queens, and various strays, but since this day was the first day, Kim Possible and Ron Stoppable were the only ones in the entire room... and since the last bell of class rang minutes before, probably the last students in the entire building. Ron sat diagonally from Kim as the much-imposing form of Mr. Barkin, the dean and substitute teacher du jour, paced back and forth in front of the classroom, not even bothering to sit at his desk.
A normal teacher... or any other professional that wasn't a substitute teacher du jour would just sit at his or her desk and wait out the remaining forty-five minutes. But, no, Barkin continued to pace to and fro, at times staring gaping holes through one of his two students.
Could anyone guess which one that was?
"Honestly, Stoppable…" the forty-something man admonished. "…On the first day?" He repeated from a few minutes back when he led them away.
Well, guess that answers the question.
There wasn't any defense to his offense. In guilt, Ron turned his head slightly away from Barkin. Perhaps if the next time he was going to spill his guts to Kim, maybe he could do it outside of school...
"And, still, you drag Possible down with you..." Mr. Barkin continued with an air of disappointment present in his cadence.
Both of the prisoners... err, students, stared in surprise at the dean's affirmation of their relationship. The teens had a pretty good idea to defend against what he said. Then again, both of them didn't want to make a potentially bad situation worse. The thought of more detention in a heat wave this intense was about as disturbing to the mind as the thought of another Jurassic Park movie.
So, as to avoid heftier fines and punishments, they remained silent as Barkin continued to criticize.
"For years, I've seen this girl pull your fat out of the fire, and for years, I've seen you pull her into it," the war veteran chided as he came face-to-face with Ron. "If this were Jai Alai, Stoppable, you would've been fragged ten times over."
Once the blond saw the grave expression on Barkin's face, Ron figured that fragged must've been a bad thing,
Though the constant sub-teacher was out of his personal space, he was still glaring daggers in his general direction whilst pacing across the hardwood.
That's right... Ron gets the blame for everything! The boy thought contemptuously. If it was any other teacher on detention duty, he wouldn't have the verbal smack down laid on him, but nooo… Barkin had to go and pick up some overtime. Why did he need the blasted money anyway? Didn't he get stocks and bonds from the war or something?
More importantly, didn't Mr. Barkin know that all this censuring was bad for his self-confidence?
Young Ronald fanned himself with a notebook as he stared pleadingly above at the clock. Boy, this was shaping up to be the longest… and hottest detention stint in the history. The seconds passed by like minutes, and the minutes passed by like a Hillary Clinton speech. At this point, even Barkin must've grown tired of pacing the floors like a madman as he finally sat at his desk with a newspaper obscuring most of his face. The clock was about at 3:28, which meant only seventeen minutes until the longer than long day ended.
Well, the day wasn't too bad. At least one thing went well, Ron thought as he quickly stole a glance in Kim's direction. Luckily, she didn't catch him, or so he hoped. He wondered what she was thinking… well, other the thought of throttling him for getting her in this detention fix.
Fixed; was everything fixed?
Kim Possible was ever the optimist, especially when it came to her best friend, Ron. But, was everything fixed between the two? It was a question she had asked herself from their reconciliation the other day. Now that everything was for the most part, was out in the open, what was going to happen? Heck, Ron was the first one to ask the question and she didn't have the answer then and didn't have any now either.
The girl idly pounded the eraser end of a pencil against a graffiti-laced desk as minutes that could've been spent in her air-condition bedroom were replaced by sticking... literally, to a chair in school.
Amidst the questions for what was ahead for herself and Ron, one thing she did have an answer for was the fact that Barkin assessment of her and Ron about was wrong as a native New Yorker rooting for the Atlanta Braves. Yeah, he pulled her into a lot of tough spots, but he was also the one that kept her out of those same tight spots. Sure, he was a bit dense at times and rather clumsy most of the time, but he was the one to keep her in focus and that redhead of hers planted on the ground.
Heck, she could get into the fire all by herself just fine. A certain Friday night could reinforce that point.
…and guess who wasn't there to keep her out of said fire?
Kim knew that the entire ordeal that night was a reminder of sorts. It reminded her that she needed Ron as much as he needed her. For no other reason than her going into uncontrollable spells of jealousy and/or depression if he wasn't by her side for a couple of days.
She bet dollars-to-White Sox losses that Ron would've stopped her from making such a grave error that night.
The one thing she could take solace in was the fact that she had her BFF back. All the bad things about Ron she could take... besides, in a sense, Ron was the only one that kept her from becoming someone like… Bonnie.
She shuddered violently at the thought.
The girl wanted to envision a Ron-less existence and for the life of her, she couldn't wrap her mind around it. It wasn't that she couldn't think of it, but it was because she didn't want to. Heck, she came close enough for it to be a reality. As she reminisced about the week that was, it was almost as if a day with Ron was like a day without sunshine.
Hold on, a day without sunshine? Whoa, now she knew that there were fireworks in the air. She never thought of Ron like that before and now, before a dime could drop, that thought just came out of deep right center field?
Maybe a coincidence? Eh, probably not.
Before she could check in on her introspection, she caught Ron out of the corner, the very corner, the hot corner, if you will, of her eye. He turned away before their eyes made contact with one another. The teen heroine let a little grin grace her lips thinking of her best friend hastily turning away from her.
Her little ray of sunshine was checking her out. How wonderfully cute it was, but also, so wonderfully weird; but, mostly wonderfully cute.
3:35; there were only ten minutes. Nothing wrong could occur in ten minutes, well except for the fame of Sean Kingston, and that was beyond wrong.
When one was in detention, one had to allow oneself to let their mind go elsewhere when there was nothing of relevance to think about. As for Ron, he was right in the middle of it. As long as it could make him come closer to the warden... er, substitute teacher du jour, finally saying to him that he was free to go, he was willing to ponder and ruminate on just about anything.
All right, there were simply ten minutes until detention ended and about fifteen until he had to repeat the same process of getting up and them, and the process went over and over and over. There had to be something out there to break the monotony of the daily grind of it all.
It was elementary that these were one of the times in which Ron wished that he was home schooled.
Then again, had he been home schooled from the beginning, there wouldn't be a red-haired beauty that he had conflicting sentiments toward.
Beauty? Odd, Kim was never synonymous with the term beauty in his eyes. Although, before he turned fifteen, she was always kind of cute... in the friendliest way possible.
Only in the friendliest way, Ron thought. Hah, that, and the New York Giants just have a below average defense.
(Why, God? Why?!)
For no other reason than to move around, he turned around in the girl's direction... and as fast as he turned toward her, he turned away.
Oh, not good. He turned around to see that face he was so used to seeing, staring right back at him. Worse yet, before he darted his head back, it appeared that she had a slight smirk on her face. Why a smirk? Geez, did she catch the first time he looked in her general direction?
He wasn't staring at her! He was staring is her general direction, darn it! General direction!
Aw, screw it. He was looking at her. Heck, what was the penalty for looking at your very attractive best friend anyway?
He didn't know it at the time, but his question was about to be answered.
Kim dragged her desk closer to Ron's. The legs of the chair underneath her made a slight creaking sound as she moved closer, but it wasn't loud enough to stir the attention of Mr. Barkin. The auburn-haired girl's intention was to let her shy companion know that she noticed him noticing her.
Did you get all of that?
Kim felt a bit of hesitation as she came within inches of Ron's desk. Fortunately, for her (and the rest of the shippers out there), she shed her trepidation faster than the New York Mets can shed themselves from playoff contention. With the cheekiest of cheeky grins, she took his elbow and placed it on her desk. She then grasped the open palm of his hand and squeezed it as the young man turned around.
"Kim, wha?" Ron sputtered. He wanted to ask waht was going on, that is, until he saw the expression on the girl's face. At that exact point, he didn't really want to ask anything, let alone, say anything.
Their hands intertwined tightly. Their eyes found one another's. It was one of those 'shared moments' that Holden from Chasing Amy would describe. Two people, seemingly searching into each other's souls, silently, yet shyly yearning for one another for over several stretches of time, waiting patiently, or maybe impatiently, for a moment like this...
...and then the bell rang.
"OK, lovebirds. Detention is over. Move out!" Barkin commanded in that drill sergeant tone of his.
That shared moment between Kim and Ron wasn't just broken, but it was bludgeoned, tortured with a hot poker, cut to pieces, pistol-whipped, and massacred... Sonny Corleone at the tollbooth style... at the same time.
Both students looked away from one another and looked around the classroom as if they had woken from a lucid dream. Kim, then Ron, rose from their respective desks, ready to finally put an end to this first day.
"Stoppable, you stay." Barkin barked.
The blond-haired sidekick painfully cringed as he stopped... with one foot out of the room, no less.
He apologetically turned to his girl that happened to be a friend. "K.P., I..."
"No big, Ron, I'll wait outside for you," she insisted.
"You will? It's almost like..."
He stopped talking as she gave an assuring, yet... 'stop freaking talking' look. Kim turned toward the hallway, but turned back for a moment, as if she forgot to do something.
Once Ron figured that it was time to face up to his obviously gregarious punishment, he turned toward Barkin, unaware that Kim was right behind him. Unaware that the girl's puckering lips were making a beeline for his cheek... and unaware of the fact that Chris Crocker is a pox upon humanity…
...until it hit him.
And, boy! Did it hit him! In fact, it him harder than a Joba Chamberlain pitch aimed for the rat's nest that was Kevin Youkilis' beard.
(Yep, I had to get in a shot before the playoffs began.)
Kim was long gone before he realized what hit him. Much like that fateful Friday night in which Bonnie did the same thing, Ron held a hand to his rapidly crimsoned cheek. Unlike that night, the boy felt a wide range of emotions after the fact… and not just shock, surprise and/or disgust and/or elation. What made Kim want to do something like…
"Stoppable!" Mr. Barkin bellowed. "Front and center!"
Oh, yeah… in the present.
He trudged over to Barkin's desk. The tall and rather foreboding man rose from his chair and faced his young student. The difference in height was enough to threaten young Ronald, and it probably did.
Ron stood there, waiting for whatever extra punishment the uber-substitute teacher was going to hand out to him. Instead of handing him some chalkboard erasers to clap at, the man clamped a hand down on his shoulder.
"You know, Stoppable, I've stopped trying to figure out you kids and your puppy love, but let me tell you a couple of things," Barkin explained.
Ok, this was weird. Barkin giving advice?
"Possible is a special girl and for reasons I'm not aware of, she has more faith in you than Celtic fans have faith in Kevin Garnett…"
What?
"And they know that he's not going to deliver an NBA championship to Boston, but still…"
"Uh, Mr. B?
"Oh," the interchangeable instructor muttered, obviously lost in his train of thought. "What I meant to say is that Possible has faith in you, and some of it is unwarranted…" He shook his head. "But she still does, so please, please, please don't let her down," he urged.
'Sound advice, despite coming from an unlikely source,' Ron mused.
"Eh, I won't," Ron insisted timidly.
"Good. Ms. Possible could use a young… upstanding soldier like you," he said, reassuringly patting the young man on his shoulder. "Not like that Mankey pipsqueak."
Ron soundly laughed at Barkin's designation of Josh. His chuckling stopped when the dean glared holes at him.
"Bah, why am I telling you this? Out, Stoppable… OUT!" He badgered, ushering the young man out of the classroom.
For once in a long while, Ron Stoppable left Middleton High with a lot on his mind. Before, he could sort them out, of course, a friendly face with bright reddish-orange hair came to his side to walk with him.
"So, what's the sitch?" She asked him, her sunny disposition disappearing.
"Oh, nothing major." He replied, much to her relief. "But, can I ask you something?"
"Sure." Kim answered.
"Uh... I was listening to Barkin was saying... and... I was thinking... seriously, do you think I drag you down?"
The answer that Ron was expecting didn't come at all as the red-haired girl laughed at his question.
"Ah, Ron... you soooo drag me down!" She replied.
Critical Error 1: The Awful Truth
Treatment: Next time, don't ask the damn question!
After his question was answered, there was about a eighteen-inch gap between Stoppable's jaw and the rest of his face. Maybe nineteen if you counter in the teeth-to-gum ratios.
"Kidding, Ron. Kidding," she then said.
"Yeah... kidding..." he replied with a nervous chuckle. "You really got me good," he said unconvincingly.
Kim felt that Ron wasn't exactly getting the gist of what she was saying. So she took her friend by the shoulder and stopped him.
"If anything, Ron, I drag you around more than you drag me down. You never seem to complain about it and neither do I. We're friends... everyone expects to be dragged down or around sometimes, wouldn't you say?"
Well, Ron was convinced with that reasoning. "Well, yeah... I guess," his youthful smile came out for about the second time in the afternoon. They continued to walk with Kim walking slightly ahead of him. She then turned back toward him
"Besides, Ron. I'd let you drag me anywhere," she said with a wink before turning toward the sidewalk ahead of her.
Ron stopped in his tracks.
Whoa. Whoa. Wait a minute, whoa! What the heck was that supposed to mean?
Was that what adults call 'innuendo?'
Was that something that meant to be... flirtatious? Or was it something she meant in a serious manner?
And, why was Kim's hips swiveling like they were?
Ron Stoppable was momentarily at a loss, but heck... there was time to figure these things out.
"Hey, K.P. Wait up!" He exclaimed, chasing after her.
End of Part 4
Questions? Concerns? Tardy notices? Will the Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim finally stop laying down for the Boston Red Sox? Will the New York Giants defense show up again? Will S-Chrome ever stop hating sports teams from Boston?
Ha! We all know the answer to that.
Review!
S-C.