For a moment, we were all stunned, myself included. I understood my words but . . . had that voice really come from inside of me? Did I have any idea what I was getting myself into?

“Get out of here,” hissed Daryl.

“Get to class, Ms. Wolley. This matter does not pertain to you.” He pushed Daryl harder.

“But he didn’t do it.”

Mr. West suddenly let Daryl go and turned to me. It was like a scene from a horror movie where the innocent young girl lures the killer away from her friend and then runs away screaming. Except there was nowhere for me to run.

“This paint is still wet. That means it had to have been done within the last hour.”

Mr. West smirked. “Brilliant, Ms. Wolley, or should I call you Ms. Holmes? Now can you explain to me how that impacts the fact that this weasel defaced school property?”

I shuffled my feet for a minute and looked down because it was the best I could do to create dramatic effect.

“He didn’t do it. He was with me the whole time.”

I am not sure which of them look more shocked. The difference was that Daryl recovered more quickly.

“Oh, really? And where were the two of you?”

For a moment, I stumbled.

“We were riding up and down in the elevator.”

“That elevator is designated for staff and for students with disabilities. Do either of you have a disability that I don’t already know about?” He snickered, then grabbed Daryl’s jacket and crumpled it in his fist.

“I guess you’re off the hook this time, dirt bag. Thank your little girlfriend. You two will have a lot of time to spend together during detention next week.” He tossed him against the wall as though he was a rubber ball, and Mr. West stormed off, leaving the two us alone in the hallway.

Daryl adjusted the collar on his jacket, picked up the books that had fallen to the floor, and continued down the hall. He never said a word to me. But it didn’t matter; I already knew.

I knew that he owed me and I knew that it was killing him inside.

I got to detention early the first day. I had never been punished at school before and I certainly didn’t want to make things worse with Wicked West. Daryl sauntered in at exactly three o’clock. He sat in the front row, slouched down in his seat, and stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets. That first day, he spent the entire time staring blankly at Mr. West, who pretended to be intensely engrossed in a newspaper.

The next day Mr. West gave us more homework than ever before.

Again, I made sure to arrive a few minutes early and Daryl got there right at three. He picked the same seat, took the same stance, and the staring contest began.