Beyond us (all of us #3) 18+

S I X T E E N

D I E S E L

"Who would you rather smash? Mrs. Hoover, or Ms. Baez?" Gio asks, Trenton keeping look out as we take turns hitting the last Marlboro in his pack.

Money's not the issue, the plug is.

Weed's easier to score than cigs these days. All it takes is one really cool cousin, a good enough fake ID, or a stoner friend and you're set. But tobacco? That's practically contraband these days.

Trenton knew a guy. Some burnout neighbor he was chummy with until we got caught waiting for him behind the liquor store and some poodle walking old lady threatened to call the cops on us

I was pretty sure she was bluffing, apparently dude wasn't. He barely looks Trent's way now. 

Gio's cousins are usually good for it, but they're in Mexico this week. So now we're rationing this one like it's the last smoke on Earth.

"Umm...." Trenton hums, smoke curling from my mouth as I wave it away. "Ms. B's kinda hot."

"Yeah." Gio smacks his lips, the chainlink fence rattling as he leans his back to it.. "Something about accents, man. Just...damn."

I feel like we have the same pointless conversation just about every day about the same teachers we've been seeing year after year, and they don't get any more attractive yet the game continues like anyone's answers are ever going to change.

I'm just glad no one asked about the other night with Chloe. Not like id ever admit I fucking blew it in two minutes like I was the one losing my virginity anyway, but I cringe every time I think about it.

And she's just so wide eyed and innocent, she barely even knew what happened.

"Shit," Trenton rasps, voice dropped and instantly ripping me out of my head.

I look up, Mrs. Hanes marching across the lot in her designer heels like she's here on business.

"Is that--" Gio starts, and I cough, smashing the cigarette against the prickled wall we're hiding beside

"Yep." I nod. "Chloe's mom."

Gio takes what's left of it and returns it to the pack, waving away the last of the smoke cloud.

"What the fuck does she want?" Trenton mutters, squinting toward her.

I don't answer. Literally anyone's guess is as good as mine.

She's dressed like she's walking into court, not a school parking lot--sharp black blazer, shiny bag clutched to her ribs like she's anticipating being robbed by one of us.

I bet she walks around with three G's and a grip of credit cards on her.

Gio nudges Trenton, a goofy smile plastered on his face. "Diesel's mom, or Chloe's mom?"

Trenton grins back and I shoot him a look. A warning. Not now, dude.

We all go quiet, glued to our phones like we're deep in philosophical Twitter debates, hoping she'll make a sharp turn and detour to the front gates. Maybe head to the office or something. But she doesn't. She's locked in.

Her heels clicking faster the closer she gets. Like each step makes her more pissed off.

"Hello, Diesel," she says, voice tight like a wire pulled too far.

"Oh, hey Mrs. Hanes..." I force a smile. "Chloe should be at cheer practice right now."

"I know where my daughter is."