PhD Candidate Faustus

16: and where hell is, there must we ever be

Mephistopheles

"I'm ashamed of both of you."
"We've been framed—,"
"Yeah it, it isn't what it looks like—,"
"We know what you think it looks like—,"
"And it is not that yeah—,"
"Definitely not—,"
"In fact, you should be thanking us—,"
"Shut up you two!" Dean Alleyn growls, sinking into his chair, "One week till the Winter Formal. Two weeks until the Christmas Holiday. The end of the semester is upon us. And I think a faculty member and a student selflessly offered to help with decorations—,"
"We did—,"
"It was completely selfless—,"
"Selfless is our middle name—,"
"Yes collectively—,"
"AND YOU USE THAT OPPORTUNITY TO HIDE IN THE AUDITORIUM —SMOKING??? Supplying cigarettes to a student!!??"
"The student was supplying cigarettes to me, also, you have no proof we were smoking on school grounds," Coach Marlowe says, passing me his lit cigarette.
"Precisely, all the evidence is gone, you sir, have a Merry Christmas, and Happy New Year—," I say, taking a long drag before passing it back.
"YOU ARE CURRENTLY SMOKING. BOTH OF YOU!!"
"Us?"
"We would never."
"No, we're committed to stopping smoking."
"We are, we prayed to my god, and your fan-fiction version of him," I say, which causes Coach Marlowe to start laughing so hard he starts choking on smoke. I rescue the cigarette.
"Where is—ah Father Thomas—get in here right now," Dean Alleyn growls the last bit, nearly knocking over a massive stack of papers on his desk as he moves to stop Father Thomas from leaving.
"He's trying to accuse me of smoking on school grounds and supplying a student with cigarettes," Coach Marlowe says, very innocently considering he's actively taking the cigarette from me to take a drag off of while he says it.
"You're better than this, I know it. I'm disappointed, honestly, really, you know he can't help himself," Father Thomas says.
"I'm not better than this," Coach scoffs.
"I was not talking to you," Father Thomas says, flatly.
"He pays me twice what I can get for them in town please— I've looked it up—okay, I haven't looked it up, but Fausty did and that's close to the same thing it's an addiction, it's worse than heroin, also like, I'm not worried about lung cancer," I say.
"Look at my lifestyle, there is a zero percent chance I'll live long enough to develop cancer from this," Coach says, handing me the cigarette back.
"Precisely! There are like, dozens of other things more likely to kill me first," I say, "Why can't I have this one thing? I'll give up sex."
"Because it's illegal," Dean Alleyn growls.
"Please Father? How about I give up sex and gambling?" I offer.
"Shhh, don't make deals, he'll forgive us; it's in his religion," Coach says, taking the offered cigarette back.
"I will deal with them, Dean," Father Thomas says, pleasantly, "My office, you two, now—,"
"I have a class to teach—"
"I have a class to go to—,"
"NOW," He grabs both of our arms because we were both absolutely going to walk different directions and hope he followed the other one. He pushes us down the hall and into his office.
We both stand there innocently.
"Seriously?" Father Thomas asks, looking between us.
"One more time, I don't know who you've been living with and co-parenting a house full of teenagers with, but we both know that I am not better than this," Coach says.
"I get 'em in town with a fake ID I happen to have, it's only because I'm addicted, I only sell them to him, please Father? I'll give you the fake ID if you don't throw me out," I plead.
"Shh, no one's throwing you out—what? You always play good cop, don't look at me like that," Coach says, patting my head, "I like this one too."
"That's because he gives you cigarettes."
"He also pisses off Dean Alleyn and is ambiguously gay along with supplying me with tobacco products. That's three whole reasons."
"I checked the entire rule book, it does not say boys must wear trousers it just says girls must wear skirts ergo by omission, I get to wear a skirt, until they redraft the rule book, due to me, also I go to a lot of work to be obviously gay," I say, folding my arms. I was so proud of myself for that one. Really, I read it all night and had Fausty help me check and I'm right. I'm currently wearing a skirt, of course.
"See?" Coach points at me, "We're not gonna kick you out, kid, where else would we get this kind of entertainment?"
"I don't care about the skirt, you're right about that one. I care about you BOTH of you volunteering to help decorate in order to stand in the auditorium smoking, and fencing each other with brooms and playing cards," Father Thomas says.
"He needs the practice—,"
"I do need the practice—,"
"You both know the issue with that is the smoking bit. Now. I have supplied you with nicotine patches, and you have thwarted me. I have decided I do not care. He at the very least is right he will probably kill himself some other way quicker than smoking constantly and drinking nearly as constantly. So. In the interest of all of us saving our time and the two of you not winding up in Dean Alleyn's office after your latest attempt to smoke has been found out," Father Thomas puts two boxes down on the table.
"What is it?" Coach is suspicious.
"Vapes. They do not smell like cigarettes— close your mouths yes they contain nicotine. Hopefully, you will be able to wean yourselves off the habit slower—yes I realize you're not going to attempt to shut UP Kit—yes Jay, you are still expected to attempt to wean yourself off as it is good for you and we are trying to keep you alive. Got it?" Father Thomas asks, pleasantly, but like he's on his last thread of patience, he actually called Coach what I assume is his first name.
"Yes sir," I say, taking it, "How many—,"
"You will be supplied with a slowly decreasing number of pods," Father Thomas says, "I looked this up, instead of sleeping, because I heard a student crawling out a window at two am—,"
"That wasn't actually to smoke," I raise my hand. I was taking something outside because it was on fire and we were trying not to set the room on fire again and the person who sets the room on fire is disabled.
"I don't want to know then—and I have found a program to wean you off of nicotine, Jay, and you will be following it because you are a minor, however I understand you are addicted and I want to help, understood?"
"Yes, sir," gonna have to find out if I can get these pod things in town or over the internet or something.

Faustus

"Merry Christmas," Mephistopheles says, sitting down at our usual table with an entire box of pens, "Come one, come all."
"Do you celebrate Christmas?" Helen asks him, as she sets up her books. We're in the library, as is our custom, even though the chemistry final is long since over.
"He's a demon," I say to her, disgustedly.
"He's Jewish," she says, very tiredly.
"No, he's a demon," I say.
"I don't usually celebrate anything, but I'm down for holidays involving food. I figure my god's got better priorities than figuring out what day little old me should be celebrating," he says, as he starts handing out pens to students who come by.
"Do you have plans for the holidays?" Helen asks me, "Your parents that is?"
"They say I'm coming home," I shrug, "I asked if I could bring my roommate; they said no."
"Oh, I'm staying here, it's not really my holiday anyway, plus Father Thomas has me doing some sort of schedule I think he wants to mind me," Mephisto says, cheerfully, passing off pens to a couple more students.
"Right, well you're welcome to come with me if you want," Helen says.
"Nah, I'm good," Mephisto says, sounding it.
"He's not coming with you if anything he's coming with me, or I'm just staying here. I wouldn't mind it without all the people," I say, putting a hand to my head. Mephisto has been wearing a skirt all week. I know I helped him figure out if he could wear it or no, but now it's confusing me.
"What are you doing?" Helen asks.
"Handing out good will and cheer," Mephisto says.
"Greed," I say.
"What now?" Helen asks, "They're handing you twenty dollar bills."
"For Chem 1 and 2, the tests are based off what came with the text book. The certified genius told me the answers, I printed them up, and then hid them in pens, which I am now selling, we're going to be rich," Mephisto says.
"That's wrong!" Helen says.
"We're not cheating," I say, innocently.
"He needs money for chemical experiments he's not meant to do. I need money for cigarettes, win-win," Mephisto says, before dealing with a couple more students.
"How do you know what the tests are though? Exactly to be giving them the answers?" Helen asks.
"It's from the packet that goes with the textbook," I shrug, looking down.
"And?" Mephisto pokes the middle of my back.
"And I wrote the textbook," I mutter.
"You wrote this textbook? The one we've been working out of all year?" Helen asks, slowly, turning it over. My name is on the cover, in my defense, along with my co-authors.
I nod.
"You've been complaining about it this whole time!" She cries.
"Okay, you also would complain if you were forced to re-read something you wrote when you were thirteen," I say, holding up my hands.
"What, this is your embarrassing youth? A textbook?" Helen laughs.
"Christ, if you knew what I was doing at thirteen," Mephisto laughs.
"What?" I ask, pathetically, tugging on his skirt.
"Shut up, I'll scream rape."
"Focus you two," she snaps her fingers, and I look back at her, "Stop it, you're going to get in trouble."
"We don't care. We want the money, and we're currently on greed," I say, haughtily, "Don't worry about us."
"I do. Like a lot," she says, looking down at her work.
"Winter Formal is coming up—do you—would you want, would you want to go with me?" I ask, "Just like, not like as date date if you didn't want but just because you know—I can't dance, not great, as I'm disabled."
"Yes, that would be fun," Helen says, quickly, "But I genuinely assumed you were going together?"
"Same sex dates aren't approved," Mephisto says, annoyed. He knows this because he already asked me and I said I didn't plan on going and Father Thomas said same sex dates aren't allowed please stop chatting while we're supposed to be silently thinking about our actions of blowing out the windows in our dorm room.
"But you're not, like, a sex, though," Helen says.
"Right, well on paper there were two options and someone clever circled same one as his, don't know why I said it like that, someone clever is me," Mephisto says, leaning on my back as he counts the money.
"Who are you going with?" Helen asks him.
"Dunno."
"You should ask Ember."
"I did; she's working she's trying to get off," he says, "I might just go stag. We can still have a dance, eh Fausty?"
"I do not dance. Also, we can dance any time, we don't need some stupid party," I point out.
Helen starts laughing for some reason.
"Is it going to be loud?" I sigh, "I hate loud noises, I may not even want to stay."
"No, no it's a part of your experience, we're going, we're having fun," Mephisto says, sliding an arm around my neck to tuck my take of the money into my jacket pocket.
"Yeah, we will, we'll have fun," Helen says.
"I do hate loud music though," I say.
"Not as though the person setting it up is your roommate or anything?" Helen asks.
"You were just mad at me for cheating and now you're suggesting I sabotage the sound system?" Mephisto asks, aghast.
"Well, only to protect his ears," Helen says.
"Wear noise cancelling headphones!"
"Yeah those look normal," I mutter.
"Buddy, Fausty, best mate, I don't know if you've looked in the mirror lately but headphones ain't gonna—-ow," he cries out as I pinch his thigh.
"That's what you get for wearing skirts—-not girls just him, I wouldn't do that to a girl," I say, quickly, while Helen laughs.
"Fine, I'll see what I can do about the sound system," Mephisto mutters.