Justin used to tease me over my sexuality. He wasn't cruel, and I knew he didn't hold it against me, but it was annoying nonetheless.
Parker, for example, was somewhat offensive at first, but I knew he didn't mean anything by it. The first thing he said to me in that shaky voice of his after finding out was 'I'm totally fine with gay people. My mom's cousin is gay.'
I always hated it when people said things like that to me. Nine times out of ten, I couldn't care less about who in anyone's family was gay.
Parker was my friend and respected me. He didn't dwell on my sexuality, and he didn't pry into my life. He said some things that stung a little, things along the lines of 'I'd probably go gay too if I could; girls are such a pain sometimes,' but after letting him know that those were ignorant statements to make, he stopped.
I appreciated his friendship. Parker was a good chap.
Justin wasn't like Parker because Justin's intention was to bother me.
Since Justin and I weren't close, I didn't try being nice. After warning me not to look at him while in the locker room, I warned him not to provoke me. After finding sexual innuendo underneath my words during a conversation, my fist found contact with his stomach. He curled around my fist and claimed that only a wimp like me would punch that low, and to this day I still regret not retorting by telling him that only a dolt like him would beleaguer me over something so trivial.
It wasn't until after I made a comment about him being insecure about his own sexuality that he stopped completely. I had cut him off right in the middle of an insult and all attention was then placed on him. He didn't respond in turn, which I had expected. I know how to end things.
At least it ended that. Even afterwards, he'd still tease me mercilessly over other stupid things. My 'scrawniness' seemed to be my striking quality to him. It had gotten excruciatingly old very quickly, but Justin doesn't know how to stop himself.
Justin was pathetic, if you ask me. He resorted to harassing me for who knows why because he was afraid of people bigger and stronger than him. He spent a lot of time sucking up to the Jocks. He'd tell you it was because he liked sports and wanted to become their friend based off of that common interest, but I was always under the impression that it was because he was intimidated by them.
Pathetic. That was so Justin. It was laughable, really.
I didn't know what Justin's problem was. If he hated me, wouldn't he try to avoid me? Whenever we were on the same premises, he always seemed to find me as though intentionally seeking me out.
Which brings us to our next scene. I left Glass Jaw sometime after noon to go the ice cream parlor. I went alone. I just wanted some space. Last night's encounter with him left me edgy. I feared Justin using my smoking to blackmail me or something of that nature. Derby would scold me for taking part in a poor man's pastime.
I had no clue what 'homemade' ice cream was supposed to taste like, but that's what the parlor was called, so I assumed this was it. We always ate store bought brands in my household and honestly the ones sold here didn't taste so different. It was a brightly decorated shop ran by a conflictingly dull staff of people. They were somewhat friendly to me and the other Preps since we lived in the area, but not so much the other children attending Bullworth.
I ordered a chocolate milkshake with whipped cream and a cherry on top. It was a sloppy looking milkshake, its whipped cream asymmetrical and cherry askew, but I didn't care. The man behind the counter didn't look me in the eyes or speak to me once. He simply took my money and handed me my product. That's the way I liked my service people.
I knew for a fact that Justin's father helped open the ice cream parlor. I don't know the whole story, but it was something of a birthday gift for him. He had been complaining about there not being one for when the miserable summer months rolled around. Justin's father and his father's business partner opened the establishment a month before the summer of sixth grade, a month after Justin's birthday.
I always thought that was nice of his father. Too bad Justin was a terrible person.
I took my cup over with me to the table out looking the window.
Justin boggled me. I didn't believe he hated me. I figured he simply picked on me for the same reason he did the Greasers: it made him feel good about himself.
Which, I'm sure we can all agree, was considerably pathetic. Justin was a legal adult, and I was a minor. Picking on a much smaller minor made him feel good about himself.
Puh-thetic.
I never ate the cherry. I simply requested it for aesthetics. Whenever I came here with Pinky she'd take it from me before I'd have a chance to start on the actual shake. She'd always make that same 'I popped your cherry!' joke after biting into the fruit. Incredibly childish it was, but I always laughed at it.
I took a long sip from my straw before placing the cup on the table surface to stare at it. I thought back to the Townies from the other night. What did that one say his name was again? Duncan?
Duncan.
That name was awful.
I took another sip from my milkshake before noticing my cherry had disappeared. I thought for a moment that I had dropped it, but looking around the floor and in my lap led to the conclusion that I had not. I sat up straight, confused, before seeing it dangling in front of my face.
"Lose this?"
I sighed.
Justin's voice was so painfully obnoxious. I didn't turn to look at him behind me. "Why are you here?" It was more of a statement than a question.
He took a seat perpendicular to mine. "I have a right to be here too, you know." He grinned.
"I mean did you follow me or something?"
"I did. You never finished your story in the bar." He brought his hand up to his chin, as though thinking back to the situation. "Something about me and our encounter last night?"
"You mean about how you were following me back there, too?"
He snorted. "I already said that I wasn't following you. Get over yourself."
Get over yourself. "You can't even seem to get over me."
He scoffed, placing the cherry in his mouth and pulling off the stem. "Whatever, peon. Tad hadn't seen you leave and wanted to know where you went. I told him I'd find you."
"Well, splendid, you've found me. Now leave me alone."
He smirked at me and stood up from his seat. "Till next time, then." The bells on the door rang upon his exit, as though they were just as pleased to see him leave as I was. Whenever Justin spoke to me our conversations were always short. He'd prod at me, and I'd prod back, until one of us stood up and left.
Pinky once said to me that we bicker like children, and I countered by blaming him for starting it. Which he always did.
My next sip on my milkshake was a long, angry one. If Tad wanted to know where I was he'd have called me.
Justin was pathetic.
The cigarettes that Townie bastard had bought for me tasted awful. I specifically told him to purchase a pack of something cool mint flavored, but the ones he gave me were much too strong and had gone partially stale. They tasted like dry dirt. Disgusting. They were rough and gross, as opposed to the smooth feeling I was used to. I didn't take the time to notice on the night I was given them, as I was desperate for a puff and suffering withdrawal. But after I left the ice cream parlor that afternoon, I was able to pay closer attention.
The prat must have bought the cheapest pack available so he'd have more change to keep. Despicable. That's what you get for trusting a poor kid.
They lasted longer because of that. Where I'd smoke one I'd instead only smoke half, where I'd smoke four I'd only smoke two. In a way he saved me from losing a new pack so quickly. And the effect wasn't any different; they relaxed me all the same. But still, that was no excuse for cheating me out of the quality I wanted.
I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps he hadn't heard my request; maybe he was mentally damaged and needed more clarity. I knew I was probably being too nice, but I appreciated him willingly buying them for me. I mean, he was a piece of stupid trash, but at least he was there.
About a week after our first transaction, I sought the Townies out once more around the same time of night. It didn't shock me that they were in the exact same spot as they had been last time, and in the exact same positions. Poor people don't have many entertainment resources at their disposal, so there likely wasn't anything else for them to do with their time besides stand around.
There stood the same five of them who I'd encountered last time; Duncan, the nasally voiced one, a large one in a black tank top, a tall one with a hideous goatee in a stained brown jacket, and another short one, though not quite as short as Duncan. I was less nervous this time around, since I knew what to expect. They hadn't attempted to kill me on the spot last time, so as long as I were to act kindly to them again, maybe it would stay that way.
"Excuse me," I called to them before they were able to notice my presence.
They all turned around.
"You again?" the other short one started. He sounded significantly angry with me, despite that I hadn't done anything to offend him.
"'sup, Rich Boy?" Duncan was much friendlier. I mean, friendlier compared to the others. His tone wasn't an amiable one, but it also wasn't hostile.
"I need more cigarettes." I went straight to the point that time. I didn't want this interaction to last any longer than it deserved.
The one with the goatee snorted. "What are we, your dealers or somethin'?" He had a rough voice, very southern and trashy.
I rolled my eyes. "Look, I don't want to make this any more complicated than is required. I'm asking of a favor, and am willing to pay in return. Let's keep it as simple as that, fair enough?"
They all stared at me, expressions blank. Too many words?
"You got the green?" Duncan asked.
I flashed him my twenty. The Townies were so dimwitted.
"Alright, I'm with you." He nodded for me to follow him towards his bike.
I sat on his handlebars as I had the last time. They were uncomfortable and left chipped paint on the seat of my pants when I lifted off. His bike was old and rusty, the ghost of a possibly once-nice vehicle, with wheels that creaked with every rotation. His handles had no rubber gripping and the seat was torn, exposing its insides. Unsightly as it was, it got me to my destination.
We went the long way, probably in order to go unnoticed, up the hill near the newsstand and past the fire department. There were significantly more people out tonight, so it was important we stuck to the shadows.
The ride to the gas station was longer than I had hoped, but we had gotten there. I waited for him behind the bank to remain unnoticed by any pedestrians.
I made myself clear that time: I wanted something cool mint flavored. Nothing cheap.
Actually, thinking back, all I had said to him was 'nothing cheap.' I never specified how I had wanted them to taste. But that was fine. So long as he didn't return to me with the same brand he had the last time, I'd be alright.
Duncan was an idiot, so it shouldn't have surprised me that he did in fact return with the same brand he had brought me last time.
I made him wait while I opened it and lit my first smoke. I was aware that it would be revolting, but I wanted him to witness my distaste, hopefully making him feel stupid.
I held direct eye contact with him as I tossed the entire pack to the ground. "Are you an idiot?"
He didn't seem very impressed with my impertinence.
"These are the worst cigarettes I have ever tasted in my entire life."
He laughed. "Whatever, dude. That's your money. I did my job." He started to turn towards his bike.
"You did no such thing," I said, grabbing his shoulder and turning him back to face me. That appeared to have fazed him. "I specifically told you not to buy those... those..." I was furious. It was a mixture of nicotine withdrawal and general anger with his stupidity.
He stared at me, snorting. "You look so cute when you get angry," he teased, swatting my hand off of his shoulder.
"Listen, prat, I am superior to you, okay? And I am ordering you to go back into that building and purchase me a quality pack of cigarettes with my change."
He didn't do anything for a moment. I waited, a bit apprehensive for what was to come.
He groaned. "Yeah, whatever."
Honestly, I hadn't expected him to go back inside without putting up a fight. He was being rather docile. It seemed uncharacteristic for a Townie, but I didn't think about it. I smiled to myself, pleased.
He returned to me a minute later, not with cigarettes, but drinking from a bottle of Beam Cola and offered me a sip.
"I don't want any of that garbage. Where are my cigarettes?" I asked him.
He pointed to the pack I had thrown to the ground. "I already bought 'em for you, Rich Boy."
I stared at him for a moment, in disbelief that he would act so rudely to his better. A chuckle escaped my throat, but it was out of frustration. "No, Trash Heap, you did not buy them for me. I told you no cheap cigarettes." I don't know why I was so angry with him. All that was needed for me to say was 'I want something cool mint flavored' and then we'd be finished. I had no clue why I was dragging this out longer than it needed to be.
"Cheap cigarettes?" I seemed to have offended him. "Are you effing kidding me, dude? Those smokes were seven-fifty! Those are quality, right there. Sorry they're not those prissy little flavor sticks you're used to, but I thought I'd be a good guy and get you something nice."
Who did he think he was kidding? "Quality? They're stale!"
"They're not stale, buttmunch. You're just not used to real cigarettes..." He laughed. "...because you smoke like a girl!"
My fists clenched. "Could you be anymore aggravating?"
"I'm not even trying, dude."
I stared at his ugly grinning face, furious, my blood boiling and skin burning red. Doing business with this piece of trash was a nightmare. I hated Duncan. Hated him. He was the worst person I had ever met in my life. Duncan was worse than every single Greaser and their families combined.
Duncan was…
He was such a...
"Pauper!"
Although I doubt he knew what that meant, my tone alone should have angered him enough.
He stepped closer, putting his face right in front of mine. "You better watch your mouth, Rich Boy. I'm not one of those pussies you go to school with."
Aggravating.
I wasn't thinking when my fist raised to meet his face. I was irrational in my state of withdrawal. He should have known better than to provoke a nicotine-addicted fifteen year old anyways. It was a rough blow, rougher than I'd intended. I only wanted to show him I wasn't fooling around, not to seriously hurt him.
He yelled out, bringing his hands to cover his face in pain. He was rather loud, loud enough to attract unwanted attention.
A 'what was that?' voiced from the other side of the bank, and Duncan was still whining in pain. It was past curfew and I had just hit a legal adult (albeit a stupid one) after being purchased cigarettes. I was a triple offender. I knew from experience that the police didn't take bribes, and the last thing I needed at that moment was a trip to the station. My father would be incensed if he needed to bail me out at this hour.
I was still irrational. I wasn't thinking. On top of everything, I was paranoid. I made a run for his bicycle and darted off towards the school without looking back, adding theft to my list of offenses.
Needless to say, I didn't get my cigarettes that night.