Okay, I think I've got a plot now! Read and learn!
Bowin' Smoke-4-
"Is it permanent?"
"Whoa, you a boy or a girl?" I heard a snicker as Jenna and I walked down the hall to math. I spun to see a kid wearing a rather unattractive, jailer-like black and white striped shirt and a fat guy.
"Lemme 'lone." I mumbled, and kept walking. I felt a touch on my shoulder and spun around to see his long arm tapping it. They burst out laughing. "You suck!" I yelled, as they took off in the other direction. "I hate this school." I murmured, looking down and frowning.
"Where'd you used to go?" Jenna inquired. I looked up, surprised. Had she finally realized that I might be worth talking to? But her face was impassive.
"A public high school." I informed her as we headed into a classroom.
The class, once we got there, was already in session; so we found some seats, mine in the middle and hers by the front. The teacher was a man, tall and skinny as a rail. Kinda like a big walking fencepost.
"So, should we add the variable x to the sum of our counterpart…" I found myself already drifting. No! I had to do good in this school. Which, according to my use of grammar in that last sentence, was not going to happen. I pulled out a notebook and attempted to copy down the equation on the board. But it ended up looking like a cat, so I decided that it was much more interesting that way, and promptly gave it whiskers.
-
When class was over, I found my schedule. Crap, only last period again! I seriously needed to cut down on my immense number of head injuries. I spotted K.C. on my way to History, but didn't know if our "friendship" still stood, so I didn't approach. Besides, he was with a group of guys.
"Hey, uh- you!" He called, as I turned and he gestured to me to come over. "You never even said your name yesterday." Then, "Are you going to history next? That's where we are, come on." And he began away with two of the guys following. One had red hair, and looked a bit like a wanna-be Goth. He wore black, but tame black, no chains or anything. His face, like many redheads, was dotted with freckles, and looked, well, funny. The other was blonde, and real pale, kinda boney looking. His fingers were long and thin, red at the end, like they had been stretched a bit too far. He was about as pale as most people come, and scrawny, too.
"Robbie." I answered his earlier question.
"Robbie?" The red-head smirked, then looked instantly solemn, kinda like he didn't know if he should have done that or not.
"I'm Dan." The blonde smiled. I liked him. He just seemed nice and dorky. Like me.
"Carl." The redhead sort of smiled, but then looked down. He just couldn't decide what he wanted.
We entered the classroom to hear the teacher tell us all to sit. The boys located themselves to the back, and I followed. I wondered if I had license to sit with them yet? Well, it was three to a table and K.C. motioned for me to sit next to him and Dan. I felt kinda bad for Carl; he sat alone, across from us.
The teacher called role, "….Kay Ionic?…"
"Here." I responded and people who knew my name looked at me, waiting for me to explain. "But you can call me Robbie for short." Even the teacher looked up in surprise, her blues eyes kind of bulgy, but that was natural for her, and the overused of mascara did not help her condition.
"Excuse me?" She asked, more in surprise then judgment.
"Uh, yeah." I said. It was too long to explain.
Dan turned to me. "Robbie for short? Uh, Robbie's a longer-"
"I know, I know." I sighed. I always got this. Kay, but Robbie for short. Yeah, okay, so it wasn't exactly kosher, but, hey, I'm not Jewish.
-
Class was actually interesting, although I attempted not to show it, as everyone else seemed bored. I enjoyed it. I liked history, so sue me.
As I headed for the buses, I noticed that a) Jenna was not on it, and, b) Carl was. I sat down next to him; I think my status was high enough for at least that.
"Hey." I greeted.
"Hum." He replied, looking out the window. I thought.
"Where do you live?" Was the first thing that came to my mind, and I hoped it wasn't too stalkeresque, and yes, that's a word too. (I bet you're learning a lot of new words reading this!)
Apparently not, because he turned to me, showing at least a little interest in our conversation. "Las Vegas."
"Me too!" I smiled, suddenly very relieved.
"Really? I thought I was the only one. Where in it? I'm West Street, near the Plaza."
"Oh, I live in the suburbs, kinda." I thought again, trying to place our little house, in a neighborhood squashed between two trailer parks.
"Hey, my dad owns a small nightclub, and they've got a live band tonight, will you come?" He asked. Um, WHOA! Back up the horses! I, first of all, being a loser, had never been to a concert, much less being asked by a guy, much less on the first day I met him. He noticed my look. "It's not, like, a date!" He quickly cleared up, turning a little pink. "And it's not even a real concert, just at my dad's bar. I just wanted to have someone come, cause I hafta go, and I went to boarding school last year, so all my friends live in England…"
"Wow, England?" He nodded. I briefly wondered how a Vegas club owner could have enough money to send his kid to and English boarding school, but then realized it fell under the category of was-none-of-my-business. "Um, I guess so, I could get my dad to pick me up after, if he says it's okay." I pulled out my you-can-use-this-in-case-of-emergency-only cell phone and dialed my dad's work number. I was bored of my life, right? This was a change. It was good.
"Hello?"
"Hey dad, it's me."
"Hey kiddo, what's up?" I could hear him put down a piece of sheet metal.
"I was just wondering if I could go over to a friend's tonight? And if you could pick me up after?" I saw Carl gesturing to me, and put a hand over the receiver, not like he could have heard anyway, the bus was packed with talking kids.
"I can drop you off."
"Dad? He just said he could drop me off."
"He?"
"Uh, yeah." I wanted to explain to him how, if nothing else, I would never be attracted to the awkward boy who occupied the seat next to me, but decided that would be mean.
"I dunno, Rob…" He sounded doubtful. I almost wanted him to say no, but waited for an answer. I heard him sigh. "Alright. But be back by 11. And where are you going?"
"A concert." I lied. He would never have let me go to a bar. "It's close to our house, down at the Core Center, you know, the one for sports?"
"I guess so. So you'll just be dropped off there?"
"Yeah. Thanks, dad."
"Okay. Have fun, be safe. Love you."
"Love you too." And I hung up. I turned to Carl. "This 'concert' better be worth it, I've never lied to my dad before."
-
Well, as it turned out, Carl's house was waaaaaay at the other end of the city, and as we were dropped off I wondered if I started driving now (4:30), I could get back by eleven.
Carl's dad was a huge guy; he looked like a bouncer, and was in the middle of moving crates when we entered the club where we were dropped off. Carl had to help his dad, and I did too. It was kinda fun, and Carl turned out to be less awkward then I thought he would be, more relaxed now that he was away from his "buddies". We helped set up until near seven, when the club would open.
The band was called "T.X. Nova", which I didn't get at all, though Carl kept trying to explain it to me.
The bar and club opened, and we got to go up to the third floor rafter-ish things and watch the people, make sure no one was doing anything illegal. Ooo- I felt like one of those cops on Law&Order! Carl told me this was his job since his dad was busted for some people doing drugs on the floor. Now he had to be careful. Huh. If he had been careful in the first place…
"You hungry?" Carl asked, and I nodded. "Let's go to the grocery store, it's like, two blocks away."
"Vegas. At night. Alone. On a street full of nightclubs." I looked at him in a I-can't-believe-you're-actually-suggesting-this kinda way.
"Oh, c'mon, I've done it a million times." And he stood up to leave. I hurried to follow him. The only thing worse in Vegas then being almost alone, is being totally alone.
We headed out the back door, and onto a back street. There I spotted a woman, caked in makeup that even the bad street lighting could make out, and dressed as, well, it's Vegas, you know. Three guys were surrounding her, giving her a hard time. Finally, one shoved her down, and she gave a little cry.
"We hafta help her!" I whispered to Carl.
"Yeah right!" He whispered back. "How could we do her any good? They haven't seen us yet, we can still get away. Hey- Robbie," as I turned to go towards them, "don't try to be the-"
"Hero?" I shot back, glaring at him. He sighed and scratched his head. His complexion looked even thinner and weaker in the false lamplight. Kinda like a real bad impersonation of a zombie.
"What can we even do?" He asked, looking reluctant. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the girl being shoved down again.
"Go get your dad." I told him. He raised his eyebrows. Like his dad would care. "Go." I commanded. He sighed again. He seemed to be doing a lot of that recently.
"You won't do anything till I get back?"
"Promise." I swore. Right, did he think I was crazy? I wasn't about to take on three, probably armed, guys.
"Okay." And he unlocked and slipped back inside, as the door shut loudly and all three guys turned to me. I stood stock-still. Maybe…they wouldn't…see me. Just act…like… a tree.
"Hey, you girl. What you doin' here?" The one with badly dyed blonde hair asked, as all three left the whore and approached lil' ol' me. Maybe if Carl or my teenage minds had worked better, we would have had the sense to both go inside. Vegas alone, remember? Too late now. I began to let smoke out of my body, slowly. Unfortunately, these guys had probably inhaled enough crap to have a severely high tolerance level. I backed up against the wall, smooshing myself to it.
"What'd ya think, Shard, a virgin?"
"Oh yeah." The one with ugly dreadlocks and a nose ring responded. He reminded me of a dream I'd had of Bob Marley after I'd watch some documentary on him. They came closer, and smelt worse. I wondered what the heck they'd been smoking. Nothing good, that was for sure.
"Hey-" the last one, with a Mohawk and a black wife-beater (the men's tank-top) on sneered, "I think she'd be a hell of a lot better than any ol' whore." Wow, I defiantly saw where this was going, and couldn't seem to produce enough smoke, as it all floated away too fast. I needed that adrenaline rush I got when I was in that school fight, but I couldn't get it. I struggled as the blonde one gripped my shoulder. He smelt like a wet dog. On crack. I was pouring smoke into the air, and they didn't even choke. Where was Carl?
"C'mere." Bob Marley grinned, trying to grope me. "Aww, there ain't nothing even on her." He complained, referring to my sever lack of breast area. I was an A, but a big A…
"Who cares, she's a virgin." Blondie grinned.
"Leggo!" I finally managed, pushing away, and felt the smoke finally begin to come out more steady. Mohawk coughed. "I said leggo!" I yelled, shoving at him. A black cloud had surrounded me now, but the crack-heads were still grabbing at me, they probably couldn't even tell the difference. "Let Go!" I commanded, grabbing Bob Marley's shoulder, and pressing hard. He let out a squawk, which seemed more up the lines of Mohawk/Canary boy, but I'd give him license, cause he let go, grabbing his shoulder.
"What?" Blondie looked annoyed that he's stopped.
"Look at me." And he pulled his hand away, to reveal where I had touched him. It was black and burnt, as though it had been touched by fire. It looked like that seen in the original Harry Potter movie, where Harry keeps touching that creepy guy who has two heads. He brushed at it and some dust/burnt flesh/fabric blew off. "What the hell?" He looked at me, in fear and anger. Suddenly, the air seemed very thick. I gave a cough, and they too, broke down into choking. "Man, I'm gettin' outta here." Bob Marley choked, and took off. The other two looked at me, then followed him away. I tried to wave the smoke away, then gave up and moved out, closer to the street. The whore was long gone.
I examined my hand. It was cracked, red and black, like it had been in a fire. I shook it, suddenly in fear, then touched it with my other hand. It felt hard and dry, though I could move it normally. What was wrong with me? I reached out and touched the street pole, grasping it tight. I felt a sizzle, and when I removed my hand, it was burnt. Ash dust off and fell to the ground and blew away. I quickly, now in a mode of panic, pulled up my sleeve. It stopped about half way up my arm, turning back into normal flesh. What was happening to me? What was wrong? I slipped down onto the curb, burying my face in my hands, and feeling the harsh texture of it. Is it permanent?
Like? If not, well, give it a chance! I've even thought ahead to the next chapter, it will be good!
Tell me what you think,
-me