Detention at Bronson Alcott High wasn’t supposed to be glamorous.

Except it kind of was—if you ignored the pencil scratches in the desks, the dim fluorescent lights, and the faint smell of cafeteria fries that had gone cold.

You had ended up here for a minor “class disruption” that wasn’t really your fault, and Cher Horowitz… well, Cher had definitely earned hers.

You slumped into the hard plastic chair across from her.

“Of course you’re here,” she said, flipping her perfectly styled hair. “I saw your outfit. Totally reckless for a detention day.”

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

Cher narrowed her eyes. “That jacket. That scarf. The shoes. Dangerously fashionable. I respect it.”

You smirked. “Thanks? I think?”

A teacher sighed from the front. “Pair up. You two will organize the library archives while you’re here.”

Cher groaned, but you raised an eyebrow. “Looks like fate wants us together.”

“Fate?” she scoffed. “Please. This is detention. Nothing glamorous happens here. And you’re going to ruin my system.”

“Maybe I’ll improve it,” you shot back, picking up a stack of overdue books.

Cher blinked. “You… might actually know what you’re doing.”

Over the next hour, what started as passive-aggressive sorting became… fun.

She showed you the right way to alphabetize by author, you suggested a quicker method for cross-referencing genres.

“You might be… decent,” she admitted reluctantly, adjusting her binder like a shield.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” you teased.

By the end of detention, you were laughing over a pile of mismatched books, trading stories about teachers, fashion disasters, and the sheer chaos of high school.

Cher leaned back, smirking at you. “Okay. Not gonna lie. You’re kind of… my favorite accidental bestie.”