The last place Andrew Clark wanted to be at seven o'clock in the morning on a Saturday was at school. The sun had only just broken through the horizon, it's warm rays casting a cheery light on the otherwise-gloomy day.

Inside the prison-disguised-as-a-school, the halls echoed the prior week's hustle-and-bustle of students. Lockers half-open, food wrappers decorating the grease-stained floors: it was the atmosphere of a normal school...minus the children. The halls lay eerily empty, classrooms locked. The only noise was the quiet bickering of the five students stuck in the library.

Detention. He had been ordered a day's detention.

Andrew Clark never got detention. If he did, he wouldn't be able to play his match. If he couldn't play, he couldn't win. And if he couldn't win, well, he wouldn't be getting any scholarships. And yet here he sat. In the library. In detention. Andrew stared at the blank paper in front of him, as if silently willing the stupid essay to be written by itself.

It's hot. Was it hot? Or was that just him? He was wearing three layers, after all. The boredom-induced thoughts whip through his mind as the clock ticks away.