Paper Flowers (Pretty Plastic People) ★

032. Half-Smoked Cigarettes

032. Half-Smoked Cigarettes

At Aquino High, everyone thinks only for themselves.

It takes me less than five minutes to drop my backpack and books by my locker and hurry out of the school.  I nearly trip twice on my way to the parking lot, my black wedges suddenly unmanageable due to the uneven spots on the pavement.  When I'm just a few feet away from my car, I catch a whiff of smoke—Taylor sits on the hood of his car, taking absentminded drags from a cigarette.

"I didn't know you smoked," I tell him, my worry about Liam temporarily set aside.

Taylor's eyes flick up and he scans me up and down, as if he's weighing his trust in me against my tendency to follow the rules.  "Just started, actually," he says after a few seconds.  "And if you tell anyone about it, I'll deny it."

I shrug.  The next puff of smoke fans my face and I resist the urge to cough.  Facts and statistics about lung cancer filter through my brain, but I push them aside.

"Skipping class?" he asks languidly.

"No."  Suddenly, I remember Liam, and the fear stabs at me all over again.  "I got permission to leave.  Liam's in the hospital, and I need to see him."

"Want me to come with you?"

I don't respond for a few seconds.  It would be nice to have someone so that I'm not panicking all alone, but at the same time Taylor isn't the most pleasant travel companion.  Still, I remember my promise to him and, combined with that tiny tug of affection, find myself nodding.  "You can come.  But you can't smoke in my car."

In response, he drops the cigarette butt on the pavement and crushes it with the toe of his shoe.  I expect him to say something, but then I remember: Taylor isn't one to use words when they can be avoided.

His clothes still smell faintly of smoke as he walks close behind me the last few steps to my car.  Neither of us say anything, and the silence begins to eat away at me as I think.  Liam could be in the hospital for any imaginable reason, and he could be in various states of emergency.  To reassure myself, I imagine he's there for a minor injury—maybe a broken bone or a cut on his lip that needed stitches.  

As I fasten my seatbelt, though, I can't help but feel like there's something much more urgent at stake.

My grip on the wheel is tight as I pull out of the school and onto the main road.  To comfort myself I focus on the purr of the engine, occasionally glancing sideways to see Taylor studying me in his peripheral vision.  On top of everything, I worry about the lecture I'm missing in calc class today—it will almost certainly  be on our test, and I can't afford to let my grade drop any lower than it is.

"Your face is going to become permanently creased if you don't stop wrinkling your forehead like that."

I jerk out of my thoughts at Taylor's nonchalant words—I'd forgotten he was beside me.  "I'm sorry," I say.  "I'm thinking really hard."

"I can tell."

I risk another glance at him, despite the busy intersection I'm crossing, and see that one side of his mouth is raised slightly into half a smile.  I realize that half-smiles look even better on him than the real thing.  It seems to define him and us—what we are to each other and what we are by ourselves.

"I'm sure Liam's fine," he says after a few more seconds of silence.  "And if he isn't...well, you weren't so sure you could trust him anyway."

"You don't understand.  Liam's one of my best friends.  He's always been there for me."