Sound of Silence

Smoke

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 As I sat on the drivers side of my  old '69 Chevy Pickup Truck, I knew today was going to suck. My parents had bought me the car as a, 'sorry for forcing you to move out into the middle of nowhere', present. It was a nice try, but I was still mad at them. Five months ago, I could not have even fathomed the idea of moving out into the countryside. But here I was, in Belleville, Alabama, whoopee.

 I had arrived at my new school two hours early, to avoid having to hear my mother fuss over new furniture and flower arrangements. To say that I was upset about our move, would be to underestimate the matter completely. I was furious.

Alabama was plenty hot, certainly, and humid too. Hot enough that your clothes stuck to you like Scotch tape, and beads of sweat dripped off your forehead like tears.

"They could've at least bought me a car with air conditioning,"  I grumbled to myself, slouching down further on the cloth seats.

I had experienced hot climates before in New York, during the summer. But, that did not prepare me for the unique sort of sticky humidity that was Alabama. Turning up the volume of my music, I stared out at my surroundings. The school was pretty, I supposed. With red, brick exterior, and large, glass windows that stretched across the top. Surrounded by lush greenery, and trees that I knew I would enjoy sitting under. If I was lucky enough to escape from the dreary company of humans, for even a second, then surely I would enjoy that little piece of bliss.

The countryside was beautiful, I couldn't deny that. The flowers were more colorful, and the trees and grass more green. The deep blue sky was dotted with big,  fluffy clouds that reminded me of cotton candy, and the people were a lot more care free. My eyes wandered around the school, catching on a tall, slender boy dressed in all black, wearing a leather jacket. I couldn't help but stare, open mouthed at him, since it was ninety degrees outside. Maybe ninety was a slight exaggeration,  but it sure wasn't cold enough to wear a leather jacket. The boy looked up at me and our eyes met, he seemed aware that I had been watching him, but didn't care. I flushed with embarrassment, as he sat down on the steps leading to the school's front door, balancing a book on his knee and pulling out a cigarette from his front jacket pocket.

"Doesn't he know that smoking kills your lungs?" I wondered to myself.

My mother had made me promise years ago to never try any sort of addicting substances. And to be completely honest I never really had any interest anyway. The boy lit the end of his cigarette and inhaled deeply, glancing up at me again. I quickly looked away, but I knew I didn't fool him. He went back to his book, turning the page whilst blowing smoke into the air. Busses started to arrive, kids poured out of them and flooded into the school. But the boy didn't seemed to be bothered by it. He continued smoking, turning page after page of his book.

I got out of my car, clicking the button on my keys twice to lock the doors. My eyes never left the boy on the steps.  I couldn't shake my fascination, and it was infuriating.

 A burly man in a suite, who I assumed to be a teacher, strode quickly outside the school. I slung my school bag over my shoulder and made my way to the front door. The man tapped the boy on the shoulder, and seemed to be very angry. But, the boy didn't even look up from his book, and continued to blow smoke into the air. As I made my way closer to the school, I could hear bits and pieces of their conversation.

"I've told you many times, Mr. Steele, there's no smoking on school grounds!" The teacher yelled.

The boy ran his fingers through his dark brown hair, flipping the page of his book and letting out another puff of smoke. The teacher fanned the air with his hand, coughing.