Windy Weylie

1 - Pardon my French

Chapter 1 - Pardon my French

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Gif of Jordan Calloway as the main character, Ashton Briggs

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I drop the blunt to the ground and squash it with my boot before slowly exhaling the smoke from my mouth. My dark eyes teared up from the sting of the THC fltoating under my sunglasses, not that I would tell anyone that Cannabis makes me cry. I don't know why I continue to smoke, it's not like I have any stress to release, or problems to fog my mind from.

I hear quiet foot steps behind me and I turn my head to find Trevor trotting towards me.

"Yo Ash, I didn't know you'd be up here to get caned," he states, fixing his blonde hair before shoving his hat on backwards like it was before.

"Why would I announce to people that I'm going somewhere to smoke weed, genius? Haven't you ever seen 21 Jumpstreet?" I mess with the boy with a crooked grin.

"Dude, that movie was about something more trippy than LSD, not weed, and don't pretend you're not dying to be searched up and down by Channing Tatum," he shoves me, but I don't even move. Trevor isn't exactly the strongest of guys with his lanky body and pale, string bean arms. His blonde hair and fringe kind of reminds me of Avril Lavigne but with a dick. Plus, I'm over six feet tall and my muscles are considerably larger due to the football I used to play in high school.

"Whatever Trev, I'm going to head out to Journalism."I push myself off the brick wall and head around to the back door of the school that's supposed to be locked but never is.

"Since when do you go to your Journalism class? I thought you called Ms. Whittenmier a 'fascist little bitch' last week."

"Oh she still is, I'm still not sure why she feels the need to point out my subordination all the damn time considering she takes absolutely none of my suggestions, but I have a project with that Holly LaRosa girl, and she scares the fuck out of me." I sniff my jacket as I walk into the school and unfortunately the smell of weed is ever present in my Adidas apparel. Sorry to let you down, Adidas.

"Didn't you tell Whittenmier that the school newspaper needed to be made like a pop-up book?"

"She said she wanted 'a little pizazz' for this month's paper and I gave her a life-altering suggestion and what does she do? Kicks me out of class for disruption and mockery! What did I tell you? Totalitarian much?" By the time we're done joking around, I'm already in front of the faux-oak door of the Journalism room, regretting my decision to not spontaneously have a bad case of bird flu that prevents me from coming to my classes today, what a pity, right? However, I man up and stalk into the room, slumping into my seat next to Holly LaRosa.

I guess you could say Holly is cute, in fact I know quite a few guys who seem quite interested in what color her underwear is, however, I'm more interested to see how big the stick up her ass is. I've never popped so many Advils to deal with my headache than I have when I'm in a class with her. Somehow, every professor seems to think she's the perfect solution to my delinquency and often pairs us together, and I'm not sure just how many recommendation letters she's got hidden in her drawers at home from the amount of times she's offered to tutor me.

I wish I could spend this class focusing on something interesting like the way her dark ringlets bounce when she's animatedly flailing her finger around whilst explaining things to me, however it's extremely hard to concentrate on anything other than her shrill voice yelling at me to get my shit together. Duct tape wouldn't even shut this bitch up, she'd still be humming a lecture at me about the importance of due dates and active study habits.

Whether Holly is here yapping at me or not, I sure as hell know that I always need a nap after this class.

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Father Time always seems to spite me, especially now that I'm in college because I constantly feel like my classes are moving in slow motion. By the time I get to my break, which mind you, is only half way through my day, I'm already dead tired. My feet move sluggishly through the canteen line as I grab random food and pay for it. I usually sit outside because despite what many think about Kansas, our weather isn't actually that bad. You were right about the amount of farming in Kansas though, we have a shit ton of farms.

Eventually, Trevor and a few of the other potheads and high school burn outs join me at the table and we fall into our conversations.

"So did you guys hear about a new student coming to this school soon? I only heard that this one's special because of all the shit that happened at their last school." a beefy guy named Axel calls out.

"God bless them," I retort, making the table burst into chuckles. A few of the real dopey guys ask if it's a girl and if she's hot but I'm still wondering who would have to be unlucky enough to find themselves in this God forsaken town. Our town, Fallon, Kansas isn't exactly voted Trip Adviser's most recommended. Unless you like corn, as I said, we've got a shit ton of farms. It's probably some unlucky kid who's dad got a job relocation, though, business isn't booming much around here.

I soon stop overthinking this new kid situation as soon as someone mentions the devil incarnate. And sure enough, I look up to find West College's prim and proper, Elissa Carlyle. She stops at our table with a little stomp of her kitten heel, flicking her pastel pink hair out of her eyes.

"Ah, Elissa, glad you could join us. Ooh, nice shoes, I didn't know Dorothy gave them back, and how's little Toto?" I pester her with an innocent grin, resting my chin on my propped elbow and even batting my eyelashes at her. Her eyes narrow into a glare as she discovers my reference.

"I have little to no time to, pardon my French, fuck with you today, Ashton Briggs. I'm here because as the head of Teacher's Aid, it's my job to remind everyone at school to vote for Homecoming King and Queen."

"Wouldn't it be lovely if you and I won King and Queen, Elissa my darling." I make kissy faces at her. The rest of the guys join in with laughs and smooching noises. They too hate Elissa, but not nearly as much as me, for I have a dignified reason to hate the frigid bitch. Elissa has had enough of our shit at this point and stomps away, clip board in hand. We're all crying with laughter and a few of us make kissing noises again in between giggles.

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After a long day of boring lectures and lab classes, I finally make it back to my tiny apartment near campus. West is a community college that doesn't have actual dorms and so I bought a little place to stay near most of my classes, it's convenient and I'm a minimalist, so I don't mind the small space. Most of my friends live in this building or others near it, anyway.

As I'm walking up through the parking lot to get to the stairs, I see a bunch of boxes and assorted furniture hanging out on the side walk.

Who the hell would move to someplace as shitty as this complex? Then, a girl with long black hair and Asian heritage steps out into view and I nearly topple over with surprise.

"Holy shit," I elongate each syllable. "Well if it isn't Weylie Mai."

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