"Nous avons un examen mercredi, Mademoiselle Lane," Madame Devreaux babbled.

Lorelei Lane looked up in shock. This was only the first day of school. Why was this teacher already talking to her? And in French, no less? Granted, this was French class…but she had no idea what Madame Devreaux had just said and now everyone was staring at her.

What it sounded like was would you like to kill the cat on Wednesday?

"Oui! Je déteste ce chat!" she said with passion, meaning, yes! I hate that cat! She smiled endearingly.

Devreaux rubbed her temples as if she had been struck by a sudden aneurysm. "Will it be like this all year, Lorelei?"

"Like what?" she demanded, pretending to be offended.

"I didn't ask you about a cat. I was just informing you that we have an exam on Wednesday to review what you should have learned in grade eleven but may have forgotten over the summer. Perhaps you should study, hmm?"

"Hmm," she agreed, blushing and sliding down further into her seat. "May I go to the bathroom?"

"Pardon?" Devreaux demanded pointedly.

"Sorry. I mean, uh, merci. May I go oui-oui?"

The class burst out laughing and Lorelei hardly waited for her teacher to nod before she rushed from the classroom.

She passed the bathroom and headed outside, digging in her tote bag for the cigarettes she stole from her father.

"I want to weld something," Vern Tessio whispered to Teddy Duchamp.

Teddy brushed some sawdust off of the workbench and rested his elbows against it. He liked shop class. He didn't really have to do anything. That was the way he liked it.

But when he glanced over at Vern, he saw that his big blue eyes were double their normal size as he watched their teacher, Mr. Pardue, weld sheet metal. He looked at the flying sparks like they were fireworks. Teddy often wondered about Vern. He was like an eight-year-old in an eighteen-year-old's body.

"When do we get to weld stuff?" Vern demanded, looking up at Teddy. "That man sucks. He hogs all the welding time and I want to weld now."

"I want to smoke now," Teddy muttered, shooting his arm up into the air. "Pardue?" he called above all the grinding, screeching sounds of the shop room. "May I go get a drink?"

"Sure. Make sure you flush first."

Vern whispered quickly, "You didn't buy yourself enough time to have a smoke! Ask to go to the bathroom!"

"Wait, I mean, can I go to the bathroom?" he stammered.

"I don't know if you can go to the bathroom. I didn't potty train you, Duchamp."

"MAY I go to the bathroom?"

"Not here."

Teddy scowled impatiently, and Mr. Pardue smirked and dismissed him with the wave of a hand.

The distant September sun barely touched Teddy as he walked outside, fishing for his pack of cigarettes. An autumn wind brought goosebumps to his arms.

"Dammit," he grumbled, realizing he didn't have a lighter or any matches on him. Now that he couldn't have his smoke, he wanted it even more. He looked around Castle Rock High's courtyard and spotted a girl leaning against the school wall and bending one knee behind her. She was looking off at nothing, and a cigarette was perched between her two fingers.

"Hey," Teddy said. He'd known her for years; ever since she had given him a black eye in grade seven when he snapped her bra on a dare in art class. "Lorelei. Got a light?"

She turned her skeptical grey eyes to look at him like he was mad. "Oh, I don't smoke."

"Ah, so the cigarette's just keeping you company?"

Lorelei grinned. "I like the taste of them. I don't actually light them."

"Woah," he said. "I've known you for five years and I never knew you were weird. Go figure."

Laughing, she searched around in her bag and produced a book of matches. She handed them to him. "Lucky for you, I also like the smell of burnt matches."

"Jesus. Thank you," he said, breathing a sigh of relief.

Just as he was exhaling his first drag, Mr. Grodin, the principal, walked out of the back door, mumbling about juvenile delinquents.

"Gah!" Lorelei squeaked, throwing her nibbled-on cigarette in the air and diving to the ground.

"Act CASUAL, you moron!" Teddy hissed.

"Theodore Duchamp," Mr. Grodin said smugly, walking over to them, his lips curled around a pipe. "Can I interest you in an all-expense paid trip to after-school detention?"

"Nah."

"Oh, Miss Lane!" he exclaimed, finally spotting her from her place on the ground. "Looks like it'll be a trip for two."

"I wasn't smoking--I was sucking!"

The principal's eyes widened. "All right, you two. Both of you inside. Teddy, put that out."

Lorelei slouched beside Teddy as Mr. Grodin ushered them inside. "You and your damn bad habit," she muttered.

Gordie leaned over, trying to catch his breath. He peered up at Chris, whose cheeks were flushed with exertion. "What is this asshole's problem, making us play basketball on the first day of school?" he panted.

Coach Grenaldi blew the whistle. "Lachance! Chambers! You can discuss your date for tonight later! Get back in the game!"

Gordie muttered explicit language under his breath as he jogged to the other side of the key. Chris rolled his eyes and pretended to act like he was involved in the game, waving a limp hand over his head to show that he was open. Then he realized that the other team had the ball so he decided to stand there. Even though he had quit smoking two years earlier, this was a bit too much physical activity for him so he just watched. But he wasn't prepared for it when Reese Aarons barreled towards him, hitting him squarely in the chest with his shoulder, as if he were playing football. As Chris fell to the ground, his foot lashed out. It was purely by accident, but he still canned Reese with perfect accuracy.

"Watch it, Chambers!" Grenaldi barked. "That's poor sportsmanship!"

Not meaning to ignore Gordie's outstretched hand, Chris got up on his own, a scowl on his face. Reese had hit him on purpose but the coach didn't care.

Grenaldi jogged over to him. "What do you think you're doing, Chambers? Your first day back--you're already causing trouble?" He jerked a thumb in the direction of Reese, who was on his knees and groaning. He could have won an award for the act he was putting on.

"I wasn't causing trouble, sir, I just fell, I didn't mean--"

"You never mean to do anything, kid. Twelve laps."

"What?" he shrilled. "He hit me on purpose! I hit him by accident!"

"Are you talking back?"

"Maybe I am! I have something to say!"

"Say it in detention. I don't want to hear it."

Without thinking, Chris crossed his arms over his chest in a position of defiance. "This is bull, Coach."

"Get used to it, kid. You in particular are going to be seeing a lot more bullshit where that comes from. Forget the laps. Just be in the library for detention at three. You know where it is."

Shaking his head, Chris looked at the coach's back as he walked away. Then he lowered his head in defeat. Gordie, who was still standing by his side, stared at his best friend and just wished there was a place for him somewhere, just anywhere, a place where Chris wouldn't have to get used to putting up with bullshit because of the last name he carried.

"Lie!" Anya called, jumping to see above the damned tall people in the hallway. "Wait for me!" Muttering pardon me every three seconds, she made it through the hallway to her best friend's side. Smiling breathlessly, she said, "Hey Lie."

Lorelei raised her eyebrows at Anya. "Hello, Anya."

"How was your first day?"

"I hated it."

Laughing, she shrugged, linking her arm through Lorelei's. "Well, sorry to hear that. Ready to go home? Reese said he'd drive you."

Someone bumped into Lorelei, sending her sprawling into the display case. She glared in the person's direction, although she didn't know who it had been. "Tell him thanks, but I have detention."

"On the first day of school?" Anya cried. "What did you do?"

"Nothing!" she exclaimed. "I embarrassed myself in French class--I class I am planning on dropping--"

"You've been planning on dropping it for the past five years, Lie," she reminded her patiently.

"Whatever. So, I went outside for a smoke and Teddy Duchamp came outside for a smoke too and he got us both in trouble!"

"Lorelei, I've told you a thousand times that sucking on unlit cigarettes isn't any smarter than the alternative and the authorities aren't going to just be like 'oh yay for you for only smoking indirectly.'"

"You're supposed to be my best friend," she sighed.

"I am your best friend. I'll get Reese to wait around with me so that we can still give you a ride, okay?"

"Really?" Lorelei's face lit up. "I love you!"

"Eww, don't say that, you cootie monster," Anya giggled.

"Wait, what about Brooke?" Lorelei asked. "She won't want to wait around. She'll be pissed."

"Brooke is always pissed. I think air even pisses her off."

Brooke Aarons was Reese's younger sister by ten months. They were both in grade twelve, because she had skipped the seventh grade, and she was still smarter than everyone else with the possible exception of Cassie Grey. She was reserved and had a whole enigmatic aura about her, and guys had been falling for her left and right since grammar school. Her effortless self-confidence was frighteningly appealing and the male population loved her. Girls, on the other hand, didn't get close to Brooke. She'd probably just steal their boyfriends.

"Hey babe," Reese said, sneaking up on Anya and holding her from behind. He kissed her cheek and she smiled back at him; a lovesick smile that disgusted everyone in even the relative vicinity. "Ready to go?"

"Actually, no," she replied. "Lorelei got a detention. Would you mind waiting with me for her?"

Sighing, he rested his chin on the top of his girlfriend's head as if resting in thought. "How long is your detention?" he asked, unimpressed.

Lorelei gave him a sarcastic look, if that was at all possible. She didn't like Reese all that much. She actually preferred his bitchy sister. "Oh, heaven forbid. Shouldn't be more than nine hours this time."

Reese rolled his eyes. "Ann, you need some new friends." He ended the long hug, but slipped her hand into his. "I guess we can wait. You and me will just have to find like a closet or something to make out in."

While Lorelei shrieked in horror, Brooke approached them and shot her brother a dirty look. "Anya, before you make out with him in any sort of closet, I should inform you that Reese has verbal diarrhea. As in, diarrhea of the mouth."

"Ack," Lorelei muttered. "The images…"

"Oh, Brooke, it's you; I thought I felt the temperature drop," Reese said pleasantly.