"A quiet man is a thinking man. A quiet woman is usually mad." -Unknown
"Welcome back," Ms. Trash said, a light cringe apparent on her nose in disgust. "All better, Mr. Oqueal?"
His eyes twitched at the incorrect pronunciation. "Oqual. I'm fine," he concluded in a direct tone. Snickers erupted in the classroom, a soft buzzing in the hive. All of it was silenced by a glare from the smoker.
The lecture continued on as normal with the exception of the dark aura surrounding Lukas. His mind was set in stone on that annoying, bratty girl who claimed his smoking spot.
She thinks she's so fucking smart, sly as a fox. That bitch! I'm the one who's got that personality. He felt the rage bubble up inside. I don't care who she thinks she is, that place will be mine. No matter what it takes. That ignorant, little frustrating, fucking co-
The bell rung, the transition to third period busy as the chronic fight was to get to the front of the lunch line. He plugged in his earphones straightaway, his drums and bass guitar providing the beginning of his fantasy world he escapes to.
At this time, she was just about to get her next offer.
"So you'll be able to pay the fifty dollars by Wednesday and be readily available for the deal that night, right?"
Her payer scoffed. "Baby, I'll be coming back for more after that first night. Trust me, me and my others will always be available for you and your offers," the boy continued with a wink. He reeked of hormones and sweat, two aspects that she had eventually gotten used to, no matter how much the stench disgusted her.
"Yeah, yeah," she retorted, "I fucking get it. You don't need to remind me."
She never needed to be reminded how this whole thing started.
* * *
The sweet sound of I Prevail's hardcore rock flowed loudly into Lukas's ears, unaware of the glares from his peers and librarian in the room. Everyone was cramming for the end of the semester, filled with big projects, long essays, exhausting presentations and stupid ass speeches.
However, Lukas didn't worry about any of it. Being one of the top 20% in his class was a cinch for a boy who just wanted to smoke a cigarette rather than reading from some silly novel about how to pursue his future, his brains coming from his father. A father no one wanted.
Stabbing his supposedly fried potatoes from the cafeteria with a normal anger towards the world, he ate them quietly and quickly. Lukas wanted to get back to his usual back alleyway for another smoke before the school day was over.
He'd been counting down the days till graduation in early June. 202, 7-hour days in this place. Then he could fly away. Forever.
"Excuse me." His gaze looked up from his finished plate, now covered in the leftover grease and butter from the vegetables, to a young girl. A young girl with surprisingly good taste in clothing according to Lukas. With her choppy blonde hair, casual low cut T-shirt, plaid jeans and black army boots, she could be mistaken for a 20-something-year-old.
"What?" He asked, annoyed with people in society overall. His mother was an exception. "Actually, don't answer that; first, do you know who I am?"
Her waxed eyebrows rose. "Obviously an egotistical annoyance."
"I'm Lukas Oqual. And if you don't know shit about me, you should probably leave now. Save you the energy and time."
YOU ARE READING
The Addict's Weakness
Teen Fiction"I'll make you a deal, Harris," he said to her, his signature smirk clearly in play. "I'll stop smoking." It couldn't be that easy, she thought to herself. There has to be a twist. "If, you can find me a new addiction to replace my nicotine." And th...
