was incredibly frustrating. He was a good student. His grades were good, he was a great athlete, he was charming, popular, handsome, the perfect package.

So why, oh why, was the school's most notorious troublemaker, who regularly skipped class, got into fights, and was in the principal's office day in and day out, always in front of him?

It just wasn't fair. How did this kid get perfect grades without even going to class? Why has this kid never been punished with anything other than a slap on the wrist? What the hell?

Today, his frustration reached boiling point. The delinquent made one or two flattering comments; he couldn't even remember the exact words, just that he had been pushed to the edge, punches had been thrown, and now here they were, in detention. Detention! He had never been detained in his life, and here was this punk, relaxing and looking totally comfortable, while he was stuck writing stupid lines like a kid.

He could practically feel the troublemaker's gaze boring into his head and he couldn't bear it. He wanted nothing more than to turn around and explode, but he was determined to keep his cool, at least for a little while longer. He was not a brute. He was better than that idiot.

"I don't understand you," he said finally, gritting his teeth. "He's not a dumb kid. You have brains. And yet here you are, slacking off, getting into fights, not even enjoying how talented you are. It just doesn't make sense."