Chapter 1: One Snubbing Takes Place
Chapter Text
The incredibly lame BUTT OUT freestyle rap troup was the reason that Millie Larsen secretly smoked since the Fourth Grade, and she vividly remembered the first time she lit up. She wandered up to her parent's bedroom while still in a daze after the presentation; she felt sick with the knowledge that not smoking would make her just as lame as the clowns that urged her to never pick up a cigarette. Once on the back porch she looked at her parent's overflowing ashtray where she felt her resolve strengthen. she could remember how her heart thumped as she opened her father's pack, and placed one between her lips. The lighter was harder to maneuver but at last managed to touch the tip of the cancer stick to the small orange flame. After two pulls, she felt so sick that she threw up the meatloaf from lunch, but the recollection of just how much more nauseating the creeps at the assembly were strengthened her will to follow though. Over the next few days the little red head continued to smoke off the same cigarette until all that remained was the squishy orange filter. She kept the souvenir in a discarded pencil box, and even as a teen did not throw the remnants of her first cigarette away.
As time went on Millie continued her secret vice. She did not accidentally start any fires, nor did she get caught by any parent. She switched from chocolate milk at lunch to plain, saved up her spare lunch money to buy packs from the old cigarette dispensing machine that sat in the entrance of Skeeter's bar until it got remodeled in 9th grade, but by then it was easier buy cigarettes from an acquaintance's older siblings. None of her friends knew her secret, and she managed to get away with smoking undisturbed until high school. Yeah, sure, the New Kid (she was pretty sure their name is Douchebag or… Buttlord?) caught her in an alleyway, but they never spilled the beans.
She quit being as secretive after she entered high school, but she continued to truly enjoy quietly smoking by herself. Sure, she could join all the other losers that smoked behind the school, but honestly she didn't want to mingle. Millie just wanted the little peace of mind that only a cigarette offered. She could count on three cigarettes during the school day, and perhaps five more after classes.
During her senior year While the snow fell one September afternoon, Millie trudged through a blanket of fresh snow towards the quiet spot behind the extracurricular trailers. The lunch bell just rang, and she looked forward to her first smoke since school started. The day had been boring, English class sucked mostly because The Canterbury Tales was really boring, and they had been going over it for nearly a week now. She spent the whole period making the lists of a crazy person (Top 5 Movie themes, Top 5 Girls in 007, Best scenes in Goodfellas). Math, well, that whole period sucked. The only class she even slightly looked forward to was Home Economics. She enjoyed all the sewing, baking, and how the classroom smelled like butter toffee.
When Millie finally reached her destination she withdrew a rumpled packet of cigarettes from her pale green backpack. In a practiced motion Millie shook out a single cigarette into her gloved left hand, and pulled out a bic lighter from the front pocket of her teal winter coat. She finally lit up, and savoured the first drag. She kept the filter balanced on her lower lip as she deposited the white lighter into the cigarette box, and then subsequently dropped the box into the front pocket of her parka. She didn't think about anything in particular while she quietly puffed on her cigarette.
The sound of snow crunching underfoot brought the strawberry blonde out of her temporary detachment, and she snapped back into reality. She seriously doubted that a teacher would follow her footsteps all the way to this area, and in any case did not opt to pitch the filter. She reached into her back pocket and pulled her cell phone out. She wanted to make it clear that whoever was going to intrude upon her quiet time was not welcome to start chatting her up. The footsteps came closer, and she saw a vaguely familiar face turn the corner.
No, it wasn't a teacher, but it was a near perfect stranger. She vaguely remembered him from back in third grade; he was memorable only because he was the first kid she ever saw smoke, and had a heavy French accent. For some reason she never saw him again until just recently. Where did he go? Did he still have an accent? Obviously he still smoked if he followed her here. Their eyes met briefly, and she could see his dark eyes widen slightly in surprise. He must have followed her singular footsteps to this destination , so he shouldn't be surprised to find the occupant still smoking. What was there to find so shocking?
Millie saw the boy's thick eyebrows furrow slightly, but then lowered her own eyes back to her phone, where she began to mindlessly scroll. She heard the click of his lighter, and resisted the urge to look back up to watch someone else performing the ritual of the first drag. Instead she brought her cigarette back up to her mouth and attempted to pull on it before realising that it was all smoked up. She flicked the butt on the blanket of freshly fallen snow, and impulsively pulled the box out of her pocket. What was getting into her? Normally she just smoked one, and then went to go eat whatever barely recognisable item for lunch that passed for food.
She felt eyes on her as she lit her second cigarette, but when she looked up the French boy was looking at the woods on their right. She took a moment to take in the stranger's appearance. She noticed his deeply tanned hand littered with scars that ranged from silver to raw pink, the dark brown hair that for sure could stand more than a passing acquaintance with shampoo. Their eyes met again, and Millie forced a sheepish smile that received a look that seemed somehow haughty and indifferent. He turned around, and made it known that he did not desire even polite conversation.
Well, fuck you too, Millie thought as she rose the middle finger on her gloved left hand. With her right she brought the fresh cigarette to her lips and pulled. The wind blew, and heavy a scent of grass and freshly dug earth wafted past her nose. She mentally groaned, and noticed the mud on his person. His black combat boots were noticeably caked in brown mud and dirt near the ankles. The fingers that poked out of his black gloves looked like they were overworked too and extremely callused. Millie continued to smoke her second cigarette while staring at her uninvited guest's form out of spite, and her phone safely in her back pocket.
Millie watched the Frenchie light up a second cigarette, and she considered lighting a third up. However the thought of spending another incredibly awkward moment with a stranger seemed masochistic, and when the second one burnt out she unceremoniously dropped the remaining filter onto the snow. She reached into her purse and withdrew an old looking perfume spritzer with the bulb attached. She applied the BBW (bath and body works) fragrance, and dropped the spray haphazardly back into her bag. Finally she was ready to join the rest of the school, and make it to the end of the school day.
Hesitantly, Millie began to head in the direction of the school. She shuffled though the snow, and made a point to keep her posture perfect. For reasons that she couldn't entirely understand she felt her stomach flip into a knot as she passed the stranger, and held her chin up high. She didn't want to admit even to herself that she had a sincere desire to come off as both aloof and impressive to someone that snubbed her. When she walked a fair distance from the corner that the other teen occupied there was an urge to look back. She did not give in.
Dark brown eyes followed Millie as she trudged back to the main populace of the small high school. He cursed God as he lit a third cigarette, and continued to chain smoke through the lunch period.