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Lissa, Sloan and I screwed around one too many times and landed in the punishment room — hands up, facing the wall, no talking. The detention was supposed to teach us a lesson. But the real punishment hadn't even started yet. Twenty minutes in, the pressure hit. I crossed my legs under my skirt. Sloan started shifting her weight. Lissa was biting her lip. The door was locked. The teacher wasn't coming back. And we were all bursting. The first drip soaked through my thong. Then another. I tried to hold it — I really did — but watching my friends lose control beside me broke something. Sloan's pantyhose darkened first. Then Lissa's thighs glistened. Then a warm stream ran down my own legs, pooling on the floor under our skirts. Three schoolgirls. One locked room. Zero dignity left.