Detention sucks, I think to myself as I sit in the musty classroom. The only other living thing here is the detention monitor, Mr. Lanoli. If you can call him living. The man is eighty-seven years old, but looks like four hundred. In fact, I bet he played tag with dinosaurs. I sit in my desk, head propped on top of my folded arms. When is this ever going to end, I think to myself, looking up at the clock. Suddenly, Mr. Lanoli surprises me. He stands up from his desk and says, "I'm going to get some more coffee. I'll be back in a few minutes." And he leaves. I spring up from my desk. Finally, a chance to escape. I think about the windows, but I wouldn't be able to close them from the outside. Carefully, I sneak to the door, cautious of any other teachers. Looking both ways, I tiptoe out, careful not to make any noise.

After a few minutes of sneaking around, I hear voices up ahead. I peek around a corner, and spot Mr. Lanoli talking to one of the other teachers. Luckily their backs are facing toward me. My feet seem as loud as thunder when I tiptoe behind them, but they keep on talking, and don't turn around.

At last, I spot the door. Large metal doors with rust spots covering them never looked as welcoming as they did now. I sprint to them, arms outstretched. Freedom! As I run, I push the doors wide, running through. At the same moment, I hear an alarm sound and a voice behind me saying, "Mr. Parker, you had better not be trying to leave!"