Mitch Rodriguez, In-School Suspension

Mitch sat back in his hard, uncomfortable wooden chair and began to crack his knuckles with a smirk. He knew that the sound irritated the teacher sitting outside the in-school suspension room, as it was called by teachers, and the Torture Room, as it was known by the students.

Most people had never set foot inside this room. Mitch had had the pleasure of setting foot in it not once, but enough times for the headmistress and co-ordinator to recognize him at first sight and flinch, as if wondering how a boy who got straight A's in his tests could serve suspension innumerable times without feeling sorry, or guilty, or regretful at all.

He glanced down at the notebook in front of him. It had a neat, navy blue cover, with a white label stuck on it, saying Mitch Rodriguez, In-School Suspension. Mitch was definitely the kind of student who visited the room enough times to qualify for a notebook specially for the purpose, instead of the usual white A4 sized sheets given for the 'one visit' students.

With a sigh, Mitch opened up his book and began to write. He had been lucky this time. He had gotten into far worse punishments before this. He had even been to an expulsion hearing once, after getting into in-school suspension twice a month. He had been forgiven that time, and had only received a warning. 

This time, he just had to write the same line over and over, five hundred times. He personally thought it was a waste of time, since he could just say it. Mitch tried imagining the conversation he would have with his parents when he got home.

Mitch walks into the living room, a hopefully regretful expression on his face, his head down.

Mom: Oh, Mitch.
Dad: What did you do this time, son?

Mitch: It's, uh, no biggie. (charming smile)

Mom: Not another fight!
Dad: What did the other guy do? Who was it this time?

Mitch: It was Joey. He called me…a…name. 

Mom: Oh, Mitch.
Dad: It was just a name, son. He was probably just having fun.

And so on and so forth.

He blinked his eyes and frowned. It wasn't very bad, since he hadn't caused Joey any serious injury. He just had to sit in here for one day and then he'd be out. No time at all!
Mitch checked his watch and glared it after reading the time. Only another six hours to go.

Just another day in the life of Mitch Rodriguez.

Z for Zazzy

A shriek rang out from the living room.

"Leonardo Alvarez! What are you wearing!?" 

A small girl hurriedly stumbled out of the living room, a large pile of toys in her arms. At the same moment, an older woman sighed, got up from the comfortable rocking chair in her room, and began to walk toward the noise.

As she walked in, another shriek came,

"Mamá! See! Look at the state in which my son is in! I have brought him up with so much love, so much care, and see what happens to him! This is how his friends have influenced him, Mamá!" a middle-aged woman standing in the middle of the room, her cheeks flushed, screamed.

"Emilia. Peace," the old lady replied with an exasperated look,"he is only a boy. Do not act as if the world is about to end, my dear."

Emilia blushed and shut her mouth, but continued to glare at the teenage boy standing in one corner of the room, looking indignant.

"Abuela, I am not going to wear the clothes Mamá set out for me! I am simply going to the movies and she gives me a shirt, not a t-shirt, a shirt, and black pants and a tie! A tie for going to the movies! I ask you!" he said, his deep brown eyes shining with anger.

"Leo, I agree that a tie is not suitable for going to the movies, but perhaps what you are wearing right now is a bit too, ahem, noticeable, maybe?" the old woman asked, looking at what her grandson was wearing and barely stifling a smile.

Leo crossed his arms and stepped out to the middle of the living room.

"What's wrong with my clothes, Abuela?"

The old lady surveyed his attire with amusement. He was wearing a black t-shirt with a bright red message printed in block letters:WANNA FIGHT? BRING IT ON!! with a white skull in the middle, dripping blood. He was wearing regular dark-blue jeans with bright neon green sneakers and on top of that he was wearing a camouflage jacket with what looked like splodges of different shades of green splashed on it.

"It's the fashion, Abuela! It's called being zazzy!"

Y for Yen

Ernest sat down on the footpath, his back against the wall of the shop which read 'James Antiques'. He had always liked antiques, and besides, this position gave him a good view of everything. Not that it mattered, of course. He used to like to come to this very place, to look around at all the happy families, and would fantasize about belonging to one of them.

Now he knew better than to even hope that he would ever have any relation with those families. He was a street kid, and would always have to fend for himself. Somehow.

Leaning back to make himself more comfortable, he focused his attention on the McDonalds opposite to him. It was just a takeaway place, but many people got the food and then sat on the benches beside it.

One man got what looked like a Quarter Pounder with Cheese and a huge amount of fries. He also got a large ice tea. Ernest stared at this huge meal with yen. He hadn't managed to get any breakfast and he was ravenous. Anyway, it was quite probable that the man wouldn't even finish his food and would throw half of it in the bin.

The man caught sight of Ernest staring at his food and gave him a disgusted look.

"Oi! Kiddo! Run off and stop looking so…so….so yearning, will you?" he shouted loudly across the footpath.

Time seemed to come to a halt. Everybody walking on the footpath turned around and looked at him. Most of them looked away, but one lady gave him a pitiful expression. She took out a twenty dollar bill from her tiny purse and slowly walked toward him.

"Hello, sweetie. Here you go, just take this and buy yourself something good to eat, okay?" she said, trying to hand over the money.

"No, ma'am, it's really kind of you, but I don't really borrow money, okay? Just leave me alone," he said, pushing the money back into her hand and looking away.

The lady, looking shocked, turned around and walked away.

For a second, Ernest felt furious. Why had he rejected the lady's offer?

The next moment, he had a strange sense of calm. 

No point in being angry, Ernest. What the lady had offered him would last for barely a day, and then what're you going to do?All you're gonna do is sit here, be useless and yearn for something you'll never be able to get…