He didn't like sending students to get in trouble. In fact, Reid hated it. If they could just listen, and not try to test him, or other authority figures. He did just that, in fact, listening to his betters. When he made it to the headmaster's office, Reid showed his regret at being forced to such actions, but a steadfast firmness in his motion to do so, showing the untampered paper to the headmaster and the distasteful drawing that had been scrawled. After a wrinkle of the nose and shake of the head, Headmaster Ronald Lloyd issued a there-day detention to Brycen and warned the young man of what would happen next time: A month's suspension, being sent back home. And if another incident arose, he would be expelled entirely and forbidden from returning. Holly-Oak, at least, had a tough system on known bullies.

He got back to his next class with time to spare, pulling down the writing information for his creative writing kids. When they arrived, he followed the same custom as the first class, but this time, he issued the first major task that would follow the students all year: Write. Write a novel. As long as they wrote each day, and no matter how much they hated what they wrote, near the end of the year they would turn it in. He would have a lot to read, considering he would have thirty novels turned in at the least, but his eyes were as quick as they were bad. The rest of his classes, though, were very well crafted. They wrote, asked questions, drew, smiled when he commented positively and concentrated when he pointed out weak points. He recognized most of them, but some were new exchanges from other areas of the world, mostly the States.

Come evening, he bounced to the cafeteria with Marcus, who didn't seem to be bothered by the spring-loaded steps the art-and-writing teacher took. In the cafeteria---a wood-walled, dark-wood-floor style thing that fit with the rest of the old school's style---he talked to anyone that even looked at him, getting along with the new teachers as well as rekindling relationships with the ones he'd known for a while. One in particular, a history teacher by the name of Adam, he leaned on playfully, ruffling his thick, brown-black hair, though his eyes scanned the area around him. Students he knew, others that were obviously freshmen he hoped to help get through their first year if that was necessary. And there was Terry, awfully close to Brycen in that moment. He couldn't hear what was said, but a slight unease hit him until they were apart. He twisted his hair, considering a form of action to keep Brycen away from Terry. There was obviously a volatile mix there that had to be kept apart.