Pockets
They must think her stupid. Or blind. Believing that she couldn't see the way they huddled in groups, whispering, looking this way and that to ensure they hadn't been caught. But they had. And she wasn't happy.
Marching toward Brandon Spence, the one she believed to be the main culprit, she called out, her voice carrying across the crowded corridor. Other students turned to look at her and then Brandon. Most of them laughing, an instinctive reaction, as they realised what was going to happen.
Brandon didn't bother running. He tried to plead his case, shrugging his shoulders, his loose blazer slipping further off.
"I haven't done anything, Miss," he insisted, avoiding eye contact.
She raised a brow. "Then why do I keep seeing you around school in packs, handing something to the other students?"
"I don't know, Miss. I ain't done nothin' wrong; you're singlin' me out." He was starting to get louder, other students hanging around to try and catch the conversation. "Why are you even watching me? Ain't you got nothin' better to do?"
Rachel exhaled slowly, trying to refrain the sigh from becoming any louder. This was not the kind of nonsense she needed today.
"Empty your pockets."
"You what?"
"Don't make me repeat myself, Mr Spence, else that is a week in the cooler for you."
He kissed his teeth, hesitating, before stuffing his hands in his trouser pockets. There was nothing there; Brandon was rather pleased with himself.
"See, Miss," he smirked. "Nothing."
"Blazer and coat too, please."
He groaned, taking his time to do so. Eventually, he pulled out a faded packet. She would recognise the shape anywhere, even with the images scrubbed off. Reaching over, she plucked the packet from his hands, ignoring his exclaimed protests.
"That will be one week in the cooler and afterschool detention," she chided, almost reciting the punishment from heart. "Your parents will also be called…"
"You can't do that," he argued.
"You'll find I can. Maybe next time, you'll think twice about selling cigarettes on school property. I'll keep these too. Now, off to the cooler."
Brandon headed down the corridor, tutting and glaring, his arms swinging this way and that. As if he wished he could wrestle the cigarettes back off her. Watching him leave, Rachel rolled her eyes, allowing herself the pleasure in the now empty corridor. The next period had commenced and the lingering students had dragged themselves away to lessons.
All she had to do now was find all the other students who had bought cigarettes from him. Simple…