When You Least Expect It

8

a/n story below was inspired from reddit heh. ALSO ^^ sort of what I imagine Carson to look like (especially the hair). Yes I totally just searched up 'hot guy smoking'.

Chapter 8

Our school had a substantially large problem with vaping.

Especially the sophomores. The sophomore class was particularly engulfed in this trend, going to great lengths to gain approval from their older peers, even at the expense of their own lung health. More than three-quarters of sophomores at our school were vaping.

One day, word got out during gym class. Nik filled me in, his younger brother being a sophomore. Apparently, Coach Keller had grown suspicious when his friends spent an unusually long time in the bathroom. He investigated and found them sharing a vape pen. That incident marked the beginning of a series of interrogations. The principal made an offer to the caught students: they could avoid punishment if they revealed the source of the vape pens. Subsequently, the school launched an investigation, interviewing each student individually, which ultimately revealed that Coach Keller was clearly the mastermind behind it all.

This had been unfolding for a while. Several of my classmates were questioned and suspended for carrying vape pens. Accusations flew between students as some turned on each other. Unsurprisingly, many of the sellers were seniors, Bones being one of them, as I overheard from Harry. I should snitch on him. Maybe that would shut him up for good.

So it came as a surprise when the assistant principle strutted into our classroom and demanded to speak to me. Glancing at my phone, I wondered if my hangover was visible. The room fell silent, awaiting my next move. Amidst the hush, a cough punctuated the air, accompanied by the whispered word "crackhead."

"That's enough, boys," our teacher drawled in a bored voice. He only spoke up in front of the vice principal so that he felt better about himself.

I had no idea why I was being interrogated, but I grabbed my bag and stood up from my chair. Miles was the one that was questioned last week. He came home frothing at the mouth because he thought he was being accused of being a "druggie".

Exiting the classroom, Mr. Fabiano led me down the corridor. The school's aged blue walls seemed to be barely holding together, a testament to its 1960s origin. "I'm guessing you know why you're being brought in," he said, his leather boots clicking on the linoleum.

"Yep."

"Good," he grunted. He wasn't right to look so smug. I suddenly wondered what his reaction would be if he was aware I'd taken ecstasy the night before.

He guided me to the principal's office on the far side of the school. According to Fabiano, the principal was preoccupied with more important matters, which meant I was stuck with him for the interrogation.

"What's the important matter?" I asked, stealing a glimpse into the principal's office, its door wide open.

Inside, Carson sat in a chair, his slow rocking motion betraying boredom. Hands clutching the armrests, he scanned the room, only to lock eyes with me standing by the door. Recognition crossed his face, and even as his father posed questions, his gaze remained fixed on me, unwavering. A warm, fuzzy feeling enveloped me.

I was unable to take my eyes off him. I thought about last night's events, getting high with him, and a flush of warmth spread across my cheeks. I'd made a fool of myself in front of him. I wondered if he felt the same way. My mouth felt dry and my palms were clammy. He had stopped swaying in his chair, yet his eyes remained locked on me, as though it was his first time seeing me.