One week.
It had been a week since Tweek and Wendy had their big fight.
She was still hanging out with Bebe during lunch. Laughing at the moronic shit that left Bebe's mouth just to fit in with the rest of the girls. Wendy missed talking to Tweek. He was the only one that really understood her. They would always laugh at the silliest things but it didn't matter because it was their thing.
And now she had to sit across Bebe and pretend she was even remotely interested in the size, shape and texture of all the male genitalia she had seen.
Wendy had enough.
She stood up, mumbling something about being on her period and going to the nurse for a heat pack, and walked away from the girls that briefly nodded sympathetically at her excuse before returning to the conversation taking place.
Wendy walked past the nurse's office and made her way out to the football field. There were a couple of people sitting on the grass and others just walking aimlessly around the track. She walked across the field and reached the bleachers.
Also known as the "designated" smoking spot.
She had been craving a cigarette for so long, and now that she was no longer under Tweek's watch she could finally sub-come to her want.
Just like Tweek, Wendy had an addiction that had started at a pretty young age.
Not as young as Tweek.
But she did pick up smoking after her mom had left half a cigarette out one day. Wendy knew the risks of smoking and she really wish she could just stop but the physical need was sometimes too much to ignore.
Wendy walked up to the goth kids and asked them for a cigarette. She would have had her own but it had been a while since she last needed to smoke and hadn't bought a pack of her own.
Henrietta was leaning close by on one of the support beams. Her vintage black dress scraping the dirt under her and turning the ends of it a paler shade of black than the rest.
"Sure you know how to smoke, kid," Henrietta asked as she walked over to Wendy while taking out a cigarette from a coffin shaped clasp that only had more cigarettes and a lighter inside.
"Yeah I know how to smoke," Wendy confirmed and received and nod from the goth girl, "why do you call me kid if we're the same age."
"We're not the same age, I have matured past my years," Henrietta explained, "I have rejected the the popular culture that you high school children feed into and have gained wisdom."
Wendy internally rolled her eyes.
She would have done it externally, but there was no way she was going to risk not getting a cigarette right now.
Goth kids never change.
Henrietta handed the cigarette over and Wendy accepted it gratefully.
She then pulled a crucifix shaped lighter from her clasp. Henrietta placed her thumb on the bottom of the cross, her index and middle fingers on either side on top of the shorter parts, and pushed down on them, which cause a small flame to come out of the top. She lit her own cigarette before moving her hand over and lighting Wendy's.
Henrietta was surprised that Wendy had not coughed and was actually smoking like she naturally did.
"I guess you proved me wrong, kid," she commented and Wendy shrugged as a reply; her mouth was otherwise occupied taking a drag from her cigarette.
