cigarettes and valentines // tree bros

chapter 2

Stepping off the bus and onto school grounds, I glanced around me quickly - desperately. It had been a full summer since I had been forced to pretend that I could function, and I couldn't stop myself from being intensely terrified. The autumn air, that was way colder than it should have been, filled my lungs. I reassessed whether or not I really wanted to go to class. Was it worth it? Although... skipping class was probably way scarier. If I got caught, my mom would find out and she'd be disappointed and she'd probably take a week off work and... no. I had to go. As I moved to head to class, staring directly at the concrete in an effort to not speak to anyone, the weak sun was obscured by a shadow. I looked up, and saw the grin of my almost-friend Jared Kleinman.

"Hey, Jared, d-did... how was your summer?" I asked, stuttering once I realised I hadn't prepared something to say. In truth, I hadn't thought he would stop to speak to me. I sighed, as Jared laughed at me. It wasn't malicious; he just enjoyed the fact I thought somewhat highly of him. Nothing had changed. Before he could insult me with actual words, his attention was stolen by a new target.

I followed Jared's gaze. Walking across the road, with a total disregard for drivers and pedestrians alike, was a tired-looking student, with his long hair subject to the wind. I recognised him – he was older than us, a sibling of one of the girls in my biology. I hadn't really seen him around before; he probably one of those kids that hung out near the gates and scared the freshmen. That would explain it.

"Got a deathwish, Murphy?" Jared jeered, looking around him to see if anyone was there – besides me – to witness his wit. "Try pills – it'll get the job done quicker." The boy just flipped him off, anger flaring in his eyes, as he walked past us. "I guess we'll just have to catch up when you finally shoot up the school."

"W-w-would he really? Do... do you think he would?" I asked, watching his shape disappearing into the scenery. I couldn't see such a sad person being genuinely dangerous. But I guess you never know. I even kind of envied his style – minus the obvious drug-use, of course. Jared's snickering brought me out of my thoughts.

"I don't know, Evan, why don't you ask him? I'm sure he'd love that," he laughed, though this time it was more melodic, like he was laughing with me. Spinning on his heel, he started to leave. "Hey, don't forget to tell your mom that we talked so she... so my parents keep paying for my car insurance."

I tried to articulate a goodbye – or maybe a joke, Jared would probably like me more if I was funny – but my voice was silent. I made my way to class, listening intently to the sound of my cheap sneakers on the linoleum floor, trying not to think about controlling my breathing; but also trying not to forget to breathe because both were equally disastrous and not ideal for the walk to calc. It felt weirdly like I was a lamb, being lead towards a slaughter, but that aptly matched the way that my brain constantly told me I was going to die soon. Attempting to distract myself from this, I employed what was the easiest technique my doctor had taught me – watching my feet move me forward and forcing my mind to connect the image to the sound. It was working magnificently, until I walked directly into another student.

"Hey! Fucking watch it!" A low voice growled as I struggled to lift my gaze high enough to meet its owner's eyes. I began to shake as the person continued to talk. He pushed my chest with his palms. "Can you not see I'm talking to you? Don't fucking ignore me."

"S-s-sorry," I mumbled, quietly, hoping my palms weren't getting sweaty and rubbing them against my pants anyway to make sure. "I-I didn't see you... I mean, I did see you, but I... I wasn't looking where I was going, I-I, I'm sorry."

"That happen a lot?" I was still staring at his chest. Although it was the kind of statement that was usually accompanied by a joking tone or a laugh, it seemed to be said with genuine malice, actual anger and an accusatory point from a black fingernail to my cast. "Clumsy, huh?"

"Y-yes, yeah, I, uh, I guess I... I am," I finally found the courage to look at the face of the person I had bodily attacked and noticed the red outlines of his eyes and the heavy dark circles beneath them, before their soft hazel brown color. His face was thin, his cheekbones hollow, and framed by stands of greasy brown hair. I could have sworn I felt the blood pump a little harder in my veins. "A-again, I, uh... I'm sorry. I'll, uh, I'll go now."

I walked away, as fast as I could without all out running, with shuffling footsteps as the guy walked the opposite way without saying a word. As I paused, catching my breath and forcing myself to calm for a second before continuing on down the hall, I saw the girl from my biology watching me. She sent me a fleeting, weak smile and waved me over. That wasn't my class, I knew that, because she was only in my biology. Maybe she was going to shout at me for bumping into her brother. Probably that. But if I didn't talk to her, maybe she would hate me and biology would be horrible. I couldn't risk that. I walked towards her.

"I'm sorry about Connor," the girl stated, almost solemnly, as I approached. Her prefect badge boasted that her name was "ZOE", with a big smiley face next to it. That was going to make this easier. Hopefully. "He's a bit of a maniac."

"I-It, uh, it's okay, Zoe," I told her. She looked at me like she didn't believe me. I rubbed my upper arm, trying to calm myself. This is it, Evan, your chance to be a normal person. "H-he's cool. We're cool. Don't worry about it. Sorry."

"If it's okay, what're you sorry for?" Zoe's smile was genuine – the first actual smile I'd seen for a while. It was nice. I wanted to let her know this, without being weird. But I couldn't do that. "Anyways, I might as well tell you that I'm not going to be in biology – I've got jazz practice."

"I-I know, uh..." she looked at me confused, and I instantly defended myself, "A-Alana, uh, you know Alana?" Zoe nodded, "of course you do, she's in your jazz band, ah, I, uh, I saw you when I went to your, uh, performance? Last month?" She smiled again, and it seemed easy on her. Like she smiled all the time and meant it. I wondered what that was like. "Sorry."

"You apologize a lot," she commented, truthfully, before turning back to the door. "Have a good first day, Evan!" Her voice was bright as she entered the classroom. It made me smile. I quickly stopped smiling, as to not seem weird. I didn't need that on the first day.

Any form of contemplating the encounters with either of the Murphy siblings was off the table, so I instead worried about finding my own classroom, and finding a seat and... God, had all this made me late on the first day? I couldn't check my watch without risking walking into another person, and I definitely couldn't take out my crap off-brand phone because people would notice and I didn't need more attention right now. I employed another trick the doctor had taught me, taking a deep breath in and then breathing out through my nose, as I walked into what I desperately hoped was my class. I felt my heartbeat settle a little as I noticed I was one of the first few – and that they were familiar faces – and sat down, methodologically taking out my pen and glancing at the other people in the room.

The ticking of the clock was comforting, signalling that time was actually passing at a normal rate. I watched the door eagerly, waiting for the teacher to arrive so I no longer had to think about whether or not people were looking at me or out of the window, and how I couldn't look at them to check because they'd think I was weird for staring. My leg was shaking uncontrollably, the plastic-like rubber of my sole making an obnoxious sound on the floor, but there was absolutely nothing I could do except pray nobody noticed. As I looked out of the window, I saw Connor Murphy sitting on a wall, just out of sight of the teachers, smoking what I hoped was only a cigarette, with his hair tucked behind his ear. He looked sad. It made me feel better.