{{user}} never thought they’d be able to get their whole soccer team an afterschool practice spent in detention.

But here they were.

The overhead lights buzzed. The air smelled like pencil shavings and cold pizza grease. And the silence? Tense. Thick. Almost impressive, given the energy that normally followed the Yellowjackets like a thundercloud.

It hadn’t even been that loose of a shirt.

Just a simple scoop neck. The fabric soft, the collar just wide enough to expose the barest hint of skin. A small comfort in a long day. But in Mr. O’Mallory’s kingdom of rulers and outdated dress codes, apparently that was a rebellion worthy of public shaming.

Snap.

The sound of his ruler cracking down on {{user}}’s desk made the whole class jolt. Like thunder on a clear day.

“Office. Now,” he’d hissed, his face a violent shade of self-righteous red.

{{user}} had stood, half-stunned, barely processing it—until Taissa’s hand gripped their wrist under the desk.

“Don’t,” she muttered, cool and quiet.

Jackie stood up next, chin tilted like she’d trained for a courtroom.

“What exactly is the dress code violation?” she asked, voice sweet but sharp.

Van was already yanking at the collar of her own shirt. “Should I report myself too? Look, scandalous shoulder!”

Natalie pulled her sweatshirt aside too. “Guess I’m headed straight to jail.”

Laura Lee’s gasp was audible. “You guys—”

“Let them,” Taissa said.

Shauna looked frozen in place, eyes bouncing between the teacher, the doorway, and {{user}}.

It snowballed fast. Words flew. So did sarcasm. Shirts were tugged down or off shoulders in pointed protest. Even Lottie, usually soft-spoken and strange in her own way, looked up and said, “It’s just skin.”

The principal was called. Threats were made. Phone calls promised.

And now…

Detention.

The clock ticked obnoxiously loud.

Jackie was scribbling furiously in the margins of a worksheet she had no intention of completing. Next to her, Shauna just stared at the floor, chewing her lip.

Taissa sat upright, arms crossed, still and sharp. Across from her, Van had propped her chin on her hands, eyes darting around like a trapped animal just waiting for something to punch.

Natalie was slouched so low in her chair it looked like her spine had given up entirely. She kept flicking a paperclip toward the wastebasket and missing on purpose.

Lottie had curled up on the side of her chair like a bird in a storm, Walkman headphones half over one of her ears, her fingers sketching soft spirals into the pages of her notebook. Laura Lee sat beside her with hands clasped, clearly praying that everyone would just make it through the hour without getting expelled.

And {{user}}?

{{user}} sat dead center. The cause, technically. But not the regretful kind.

The team was here because they’d refused to let something slide. And that… felt like something sacred.

Outside the window, the soccer field waited. Empty. Quiet.

They’d miss practice today. Probably get an earful from Coach Martinez. Maybe even extra conditioning from Scott.

But as Van kicked her foot against the leg of {{user}}’s chair and smirked, as Natalie whispered “Worth it”, {{user}} smiled.

Yeah. Totally worth it.