Monday arrived rather painfully. I had a terrible weekend and never properly ameliorated. It was just one thing after another, and it was all becoming too much for me to handle. Justin, those Townie kids, the thought of something happening to Pinky, my bike; I was carrying far too much on my shoulders and was ready to collapse under the weight.

Maybe I was just being dramatic. I needed a smoke.

That morning, after waking up early on a school day, I came to the dreadful realization that I only had three of those expensive cigarettes Justin had given me left. I could have believed that my spirit left my body to use them against my knowledge since I hadn't noticed I'd been smoking so much. I must have been under more stress than I thought. There were only ten cigarettes in the pack, but still. That was seven in just two days.

I certainly was not going to ask Justin to purchase me more, as asking him of any sort of favor was beneath me. I didn't really want to ask the Townies again, mainly because they were all idiots.

Oh, well. I made the decision to cut back until I knew what to do about this, only smoking half that Monday morning. It was difficult to put the cigarette out without finishing it entirely. It was almost as though the intoxicating flavor was begging me to keep going. But I knew if I wanted to experience it again, the cigarette needed to be saved.

Tad, Pinky, and I normally walked to school together. Ordinarily I'd be the last one up and they'd have to wait on me, but we switched roles that day.

Pinky made me wait for her outside of her bathroom door while she showered. I sat on her bed for almost an hour, listening to her sing Supermodel as loudly as she possibly could behind the sound of running water.

"You better work!" I cringed every time she hit a high note. "Covergirl!"

Pinky claimed she took so long because she liked to be thorough, but I knew she was probably more caught up in her performance than she was with getting clean.

Tad wasn't much better. His showers weren't very long, but he took forever to do his hair. He had to comb it, put mousse in it (a 'special' kind by L'Oreal), comb it again, yell at loose strands for not cooperating with him, rinse and repeat. I jokingly told him that he was probably worse than that Peanut Greaser, and he threatened to punch me in the face should I ever say that to him again.

Once they were both acceptably pretty for the day, we had about ten minutes to kill. I decided to take the two of them to the broken down bus in the parking lot before we headed to homeroom. Pinky and Tad dropped their jaws upon seeing my bike.

I rubbed the back of my neck, embarrassed of its condition. "Yes, I know..."

"What the bloody hell happened to it?" Tad inquired.

"I hit a wall," I replied shamefully, throwing my arms at my sides. "It's awful, isn't it? I had to have those Townie kids fix it because Daddy would murder me if I spent another couple hundred dollars getting my parts replaced." I rubbed my face. "This is terrible!"

They stared at me, silent. I expected them to say something, or at least widen their eyes a bit, but they just stared on.

But then they cracked into laughter, as though this was somehow humorous. Some friends I had.

I glared at them. "You think this is funny?"

"It's hilarious!" Pinky responded between giggles. "Why are you always running into walls?"

She had some nerve. "First of all, Pinky, I'm not always running into walls. I've only ran into walls twice before."

Tad snorted. "That's still pretty pathetic."

I ignored him. "Second, the reason I'm showing you two is because I thought you were both good enough friends to not make a mockery of my problems." I crossed my arms, hoping to appear stern. They should have respected me enough to understand that this was not a laughing matter.

Pinky giggled. "Well, what are we supposed to do about this?" she asked.

I searched my head for a response. I didn't know what they were supposed to do! Isn't that what friends were for, to make suggestions for when you didn't have the answers yourself? "How should I know? But I sure as hell can't be seen out in public on this!"

Actually, I was offered a solution the day before, but it was completely unthinkable.

"Well," I began, my voice small. "You know, Justin proposed a solution."

Tad leaned in closer to me. "What'd he say?"

I explained Justin's suggestion from the previous day on our walk towards the school. Tad and Pinky didn't appear to be too surprised, which I found rather odd. After all, I thought it was pretty shocking to hear from Vandervelde's mouth.

Tad nodded. "That sounds like Justin, alright."

I was a bit dumbfounded to hear that. "It does?" It didn't sound like any Prep I'd ever met, stealing from one of their fellows.

"Justin and Chad have been arguing a lot lately. He probably wants to make Chad upset."

"Arguing? About what?"

"No one really knows, honestly," Pinky broke in. "They probably don't even know at this point. They're just dragging it out because they're immature."

I scoffed. Justin was so pathetic. Naturally, I wanted to side with Chad on this, even without knowing the context. The three of us entered the school building, which was rather full at this time. Class was in a few minutes.

"Then what should I do here?"

Tad shrugged. "Well, the way I see it is you could either take Chad's bike or not."

Pinky looked concerned. "Gord, don't let Justin pressure you into committing a crime!"

Pressure me? Justin would do no such thing. "Surely I'm not going to encourage Justin's absurdity just because he and Chad are in some childish feud. That is so beneath me."

I usually went to my locker to collect my things right after homeroom. It wasn't easier or more convenient for me, it was just a preference. I had time to get my books before the day began, but I always wanted to put off lugging around my supplies for as long as I could.

But that day, Hattrick, my homeroom teacher, made me stay in his room after the bell rang for a few minutes. I owed him my special success payment which exempted me from doing his homework. He didn't have a class until second period, so it was the best time for him. He gave me a pass after our transaction was complete, excusing me for being late to my class.

The halls were empty when I left his room, only the occasional prefect roaming around. I flashed them my hall pass when they looked like they were ready to question me, and they left me alone.

My locker was around the corner from Hattrick's classroom. In there I left my leather Aquaberry satchel which I used to carry around my textbooks. It wasn't my favorite bag, so I viewed it as disposable. If it were stolen I could simply use one of my others.

I took my time gathering my materials for the day. I was in no hurry to get to biology with Slawter (his class was disgusting, and he scared the life out of me). I hunched over, picking a book off of the floor of my locker and shoving it into my bag. The book was slightly too big, so I had to use force.

"Hey, Gord," someone called. He had a stupid Italian-American accent, so I knew what I could expect. I looked up, still hunched over.

That damned Peanut Romano.

He was by the drinking fountain, a big smile plastered on his face. I swallowed. Peanut was a larger Greaser, capable of harming me without any help of backup. And I was there alone. This wasn't good. It was just the two of us, standing across from each other in the hallway. He began to approach me.

Tense, I returned my attention to my books, hoping he'd go away. In all honesty, I was sure he'd try to beat me up. I didn't have an idea what good reason he'd have to beat me up, but why else would he want to talk to me? With every step closer the more quickly I threw my books into my bag.

Until he was right next to me. I froze. He leaned against my neighbor locker, smacking loudly on some gum and nodded me a greeting. Or at least I think he did. I was too afraid to make any facial contact so I just stared at his torso.

"What's up?" I could hear the smirk behind his words.

I didn't say anything, just stood there hunched over staring at his torso. I must have looked incredibly pathetic.

"We heard you were wanderin' around New Coventry yesterday." He chuckled. "Our friend said you looked a little outta place."

Wandering? I was wandering? Like some lost child?

I stood up, now annoyed. "I don't wander, Greaseball." He was notably bigger than me, but I hardly cared. I felt insulted and needed to put him in his place. "I'll have you know I had a reason to be there."

"Oh yeah? What reason?"

I opened my mouth to speak but my words caught. Oh, dear, I hadn't thought this through. What was I going to say? I couldn't possibly tell him that I was crossing through New Coventry on my way to Blue Skies. "Um... I was just..." He raised his eyebrows, still grinning. "...going for a walk, you know." Nice save, Gord. "I don't wander. There's a difference."

He tilted his head to the side, as though considering it, but obviously making fun of me. I flushed. "Uh-huh. That's funny, 'cause we heard you were walkin' around with one a' those white trash trailer kids with some messed up bike."

Damn.

With nothing left to say, I simply spat at him, "Why are you so obsessed with me?"

He bellowed a laugh.

"How about you stay out of my business, Greaseball. How does that sound?"

"Sounds fine. S'long as you stay off our turf. Don't let us catch you wandering down there again." He pushed himself off of the locker with his shoulder and sauntered down the hall, chuckling.

Infuriating. "I don't wander!" I called after him.