The Graduating Class of '09 (Class of '09 x Male Reader Insert)

Bonus Chapter 12 - 'Forward'

"Beginnings are always easy. They start off easy, because you have plenty to work with and adapt to. By the middle, it's amped in difficulty, you feel as if you need to push forward to reach your end goal. Now, when you're closing in near the end, you feel as if you have to give up. Giving up isn't easy, it's harder than starting something new."

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Nicole and Jecka walked along the perimeter of the school grounds, the familiar, rebellious air of ditching class settling comfortably between them. The sound of distant chatter and footsteps in the hallways was just a faint hum, blending with the occasional breeze that rustled the leaves on the trees. The sun hung lazily in the sky, casting a soft glow on the world around them, but neither of them noticed, lost in their thoughts.

The haze from their cigarettes hung in the air, trailing like a languid ghost, swirling and weaving through the quiet space they occupied. It felt almost like a moment suspended in time. Jecka flicked the ash from her cigarette and glanced at Nicole, her best friend, who had always been the one to encourage these little escapes. Nicole, usually the more carefree of the two, seemed lost today. Her eyes weren't sharp like usual, they were soft, almost unreadable. It was a side Jecka wasn't used to seeing, and it made the unease settle deeper in her chest.

Jecka didn't want to ask, not yet. She had her own weight to carry. She hadn't told Nicole what had happened the night before, hadn't even come close to sharing the overwhelming anxiety building inside her from the secrets she was keeping. The urge to spill it all, to unburden herself in the quiet moments between them, was strong—but Nicole stayed quiet. She didn't know how to begin.

Nicole, meanwhile, took another drag from her cigarette, the ember glowing orange for a split second before she exhaled a thick cloud of smoke. She'd been hiding something too, something even Jecka would never guess. A secret that made her chest tight every time she thought about it. But she wasn't ready to share it with Jecka—not today, not yet. She wasn't sure why, but it felt too risky, too vulnerable.

With every inhaled breath of smoke, it felt as though both girls were inhaling more than just the toxic remnants of their cigarettes; they were absorbing the weight of their unsaid words. The discomfort that initially came with each drag faded as they both succumbed to the calming rhythm of the moment. The world felt distant, and yet somehow, it felt closer than it had in a while. The secrets between them simmered like the smoke curling into the blue sky—hidden in plain sight, but invisible to the others around them.

Neither one wanted to acknowledge the distance growing, the gap widening by the minute between their truths. They both knew what they were doing, what they were not doing—but for some reason, the silence felt necessary, like a necessary pause before the storm.

Mr. Lorre, the full-time art teacher at Lake Braddock, spotted the two of them from a distance. His eyes lit up with an unmistakable enthusiasm, like a child who had just unwrapped the toy they'd begged for all year. His steps quickened, his expression shifting from the usual teacher composure to something more playful, more eager. As he neared Nicole and Jecka, he couldn't help but grin, as though their presence alone had ignited a spark of excitement he'd been holding back. His approach was lighter, almost skipping, like he couldn't contain the burst of energy he felt, a stark contrast to his usually calm demeanor.

Lorre: "Hello girls!"

Nicole: "Do you always need to be right where we smoke?"

Lorre: "Some teachers need to smoke too."

Jecka: "How are you a teacher when neither of us have seen you work in school?"

Lorre: "I told you last week that I only teach seniors."