Finn Carter sprinted down the hallway like a caffeinated squirrel on roller skates, narrowly avoiding the terrifyingly immovable object known as Ms. Grimble, Ridgewood High's math teacher. Her glasses caught the sunlight streaming through the windows, glinting like laser beams ready to fry any teenager who dared to be late.
"Carter! You're late again!" Ms. Grimble's voice cut like nails on a chalkboard. "Do you think the concept of time is optional, or are you just auditioning for a role in The Walking Dead: Teenage Edition?"
Finn skidded to a stop, backpack straps slipping off his shoulders. "I… uh… I was helping an old lady cross the street," he said, gesturing vaguely toward the lockers. "She turned out to be a ghost, but hey, it's the thought that counts."
Ms. Grimble narrowed her eyes, clearly unimpressed. "Detention. After school. Today. And no, your ghost story will not count as an excuse."
Finn groaned. Detention was basically his middle name now. At least he'd get to hang out with Lucy Tran, his best friend and part-time conspiracy theorist. If anyone could survive a night trapped in a school that seemed to have a mild obsession with terrifying teenagers, it was her.
Lucy leaned against her locker, scrolling on her phone like a professional demonologist. "Did you hear about the new after-school detention policy?" she asked, not looking up.
Finn arched an eyebrow. "New policy? What, they're adding complimentary chainsaws?"
"Very funny," Lucy replied, smirking. "No, apparently anyone left in the building after hours… experiences consequences. Permanent ones. Or so the rumor goes."
Finn laughed. "Right. Because Ridgewood High has never been a little haunted. I mean, the janitor's closet is practically a portal to another dimension, but it's fine. Totally normal."
Lucy finally looked up, one eyebrow raised. "You're either going to die tonight or have the worst Snapchat story ever."
Finn shrugged. "Honestly, both are tempting."
The last bell rang with a metallic screech that echoed through the hallways like the cry of a thousand banshees. Students poured out, eager to escape, but Finn, Lucy, and a handful of unlucky souls were corralled by Ms. Grimble into Detention Room 13, which had the charm of a taxidermist's basement and the comforting aroma of burned cafeteria pizza.
Inside, Harold "Hawk" Hawkins was already complaining. "This is criminal. Criminal! I have rehearsals for Les Misérables—don't they understand the emotional trauma of being locked in a room with neon walls?" He gestured wildly, nearly knocking over a stack of punishment worksheets.
Sophie Patel, draped in black like a small, sarcastic funeral, rolled her eyes. "You call this emotional trauma? I call it Tuesday." She flicked through her notebook as if critiquing the school's wallpaper for being aesthetically unpleasing.
Finn plopped into a chair. "At least we'll be entertained. Nothing says fun like fluorescent lighting, stale pizza, and the possibility of… actual horror."
Lucy smirked. "You think this is funny now, but when the whispers start and the lockers slam themselves… you'll wish your life choices were slightly better."
Finn waved her off. "Whispers? Slammed lockers? Please. What's next, floating textbooks and sentient staplers?"
As if on cue, a locker across the room creaked ominously. Finn froze.
"See?" Lucy whispered. "It's started."
Hawk whimpered, curling into himself. "I didn't sign up for this! Someone call my agent!"
Sophie, ever the critic, sighed. "If this is a haunting, it's amateur hour. I've seen more terrifying things in the cafeteria salad bar."
The room's fluorescent lights flickered, the shadows stretching unnaturally across the walls. The faint smell of something burnt—not quite pizza—wafted through the air. Finn glanced at the clock: it was already 3:15 PM. Detention lasted until 6. That's three hours… three hours for the school to slowly lose its mind.
A sudden thump from somewhere above made Hawk yelp and leap into Finn's lap. "I'm not dying today! Not for ghost squirrels, not for haunted lockers, nothing!"
Finn tried to calm him. "Okay, okay. Maybe it's… just the heating system?"
Lucy tilted her head, listening intently. "The heating system doesn't giggle."
Finn paused. She had a point. A faint, high-pitched giggle echoed through the room. Not loud, not scary, but precise. Enough to make Hawk scream and Sophie sigh in disdain.
"What is that?" Hawk demanded. "Do we need to burn sage? Or sacrifice my dignity to appease it?"
Sophie snorted. "I'd argue your dignity has been sacrificed multiple times already, Hawk. No ghosts required."
Finn shook his head. "Alright, new plan. We survive. We document. We make it to six o'clock. And if we're lucky, maybe the ghosts are… friendly?"
Lucy smirked. "Friendly? You mean, like prank-loving, slightly sadistic spirits? Yeah, I could see that."
And somewhere, deep in the shadows of Ridgewood High, something moved—small, mischievous, entirely unwilling to let these teenagers leave the building without a proper scare.
Finn leaned back in his chair, trying to laugh it off. "Okay, fine. Maybe this is going to be… interesting."
Hawk groaned. "Interesting? I didn't sign up for interesting! I signed up for drama club!"
Sophie deadpanned, flipping through her notebook. "Drama club will not save you from existential horror. Just saying."
Finn smirked. "Well, at least it's a slow start. Three more hours to go. Plenty of time for horror… and cafeteria pizza revenge."
The last thing they heard before the lights flickered again was a soft, almost cheerful whisper: "Welcome… to Detention of the Damned."