£ΜŠ LYDIA MARIE SCHLOSS £ΜŠ Lydia was already in detention before the others arrived. While Lydia was well versed in the art of trouble-making, she was not well versed in the art of getting caught; Lydia was no stranger to detention. She spent almost every Saturday here; the Saturdays she was elsewhere, Lydia ditched detention to go smash some windows or something. Interestingly enough, Lydia had not committed any school felonies that week to land her in detention. Instead, she was here, making up the detention she missed last week. Lydia sat at her usual table in the back of the library, where detention was held. The table shouted 'Lydia' -- weeks upon weeks' worth of graffiti littered the table, all marked in black Sharpie. Lydia put her feet up on the desk and waited for the others to get here. She had no idea who would be there, and didn't particularly care; she saw the school's minor mischief makers come and go every week, and none of them made a difference. ÅØŠ ASHLYNNE OLIVIA SPENCER ÅØŠ Ashlynne couldn't believe she had detention. She cursed her English teacher -- she had tried her absolute hardest on that test, and the teacher was well aware of her dyslexia. But, no, sixty-five percent wasn't good enough for him. Ashlynne, dressed in a white silk shirt, red skinny jeans and black stiletto heels, climbed out of her car and walked into the school. She had only been here on weekends for cheerleading practice or school carnivals, and she didn't like the desertion of the school. For Ashlynne, school was a place of socialisation and cheer. The empty halls disconcerted her. Ashlynne shot a text to her boyfriend, Terrence, as she made her way to the libaray. HEY, HOW FAR AWAY ARE YOU? SAVE ME FROM THE LONELINESS! XOXO. Ashlynne arrived at the library. Only one girl, a tanned-skinned, purple-haired girl she had seen around but never spoken to, sat in the back. Ashlynne shot her a smile and sat at a table in the middle row. Ah, the middle row -- you don't seem too eager, or too carefree. Perfect. ℜℵÐ ROWAN NATHANIEL DAYLESFORD ℜℵÐ Rowan had managed to cram in an hour of time in the art room before detention. He was working on a watercolour painting of a birdcage, adding little red birds sitting on the outside bars of the open cage -- a symbol of freedom. Rowan was proud of her work. Rowan left the art room and made his way to the library. Two girls sat in there already; one was the head cheerleader, Ashlynne Spencer, who everyone knew well. The other was a scary, aggressive, purple-haired demon girl, Lydia Schloss, who Rowan was pretty sure had punched him sometime when she was in the third grade. He sat as far away from Lydia as possible while he waited for detention to start.