Pusher

three.

Modern Literature might not be all that awful of a class, but having it with no friends, an inept teacher, and a partner who relied on me to do all the group work by myself certainly convinced me that it was. It was fine. He would probably do it all wrong if he tried anyway, but Mrs. Demarzo had a strict no headphones policy so I was left with nothing to listen to except loud mouth Dante joking around with his best friend, Todd.

I wasn't sure how they had passed the necessary classes to make it as far as the 11th grade, but their sense of humor was very obviously still stuck in middle school. I once kept a tally of how many penis jokes they made in one hour. It totaled up to be thirty-one.

Gee, I sure do love public education.

"I haven't smoked since last Thursday," Dante complained. He didn't even bother to keep his voice low, but the wall of chatter kept up by the rest of the class was enough to mask his voice. "I think I'm going through withdrawal or something."

"You don't get withdrawal from weed, you dumbass." Todd shook his head and slid his worksheet back and forth on the desk in front of him. It was blank. His partner was checking her makeup with the reflection on her phone.

"Nah, I'm serious," Dante insisted, holding up a hand. "I'm shaking."

"That's because you're basically the human equivalent of a chihuahua."

I scrawled a few more lines on the paper, outlining the chapter we were supposed to be reading. Supposed to were the key words here. I found that Sparknotes summed up the story fairly well and I had remarkably good cell service in this classroom.

Normally I would just suck it up and read the dumb book, but I decided if Mrs. Demarzo couldn't be bothered to actually teach us anything, there wasn't much use in putting in the effort. And she seemed to be under the illusion that she's some sort of mentor or friend to me, so I was pretty sure my GPA would be fine.

"If it's really that big of a deal, just go buy some more from Weir," Todd said. He was now busy folding his paper into an airplane. An airplane with really crappy aerodynamics.

"He bumped up the prices again. I'm trying to find someone else."

Todd's fingers stopped in the middle of folding a crease. His eyes flicked up to meet his friend's and his tone grew more serious. "If Weir finds out you're a dead man."

"I'm not afraid of Maverick. He's all talk and no game. The only reason he gets away with it is because we all let him. I'm done with that, man. He's not getting another cent from me."

"Yeah, sure, just let me know what you want written on your gravestone ahead of time."

Dante shook his head, turning back to the front as if he was actually going to help me. Instead he picked up the pen I had lying on my desk and twirled it between his fingers, his eyes and mind lost somewhere on the other side of the room.

"I could sell you some pot."

The words tumbled out before I could stop them. My voice was a little louder than it should have been, but maybe the noise level made up for the confidence I lost when my words faltered.

Dante glanced back at me, his brow pulled together. I might as well have grown another head for the look he gave me. Or professed my undying love for him. Or said that this class was actually a lot of fun.

"That's a joke, right?" He said, one corner of his mouth reaching up into the beginnings of a smile. Uncertainty was written all over his face, but I'm sure mine matched. What the hell was I doing? People go to jail for selling this stuff and here I was offering it out like when I used to sell sticks of gum in middle school.

"No, I'm serious," I said, but the bell cut me off before I could say any more. I snatched the pen out of his hand and opened up his palm, printing my phone number on his skin in purple ink. He stared at the tattoo in disbelief before flicking his eyes up to mine. "Text me if you're interested."

I dashed off to my next class with my books pressed tightly to my chest, cheeks flushed, but with a small smile playing along my lips. I thought of Ellie and her wheezing laughter.

Which one of us was the goody-two-shoes now?