Sugar And Smoke Rings

1: Detention

[Rhett's Point Of View]

     I was just standing outside of my stupid high school, smoking a cigarette and trying to avoid people. Especially every single girl that tried to approach me and get my attention. I smirked as the school's even dumber principal approached me, in the mood to cause some trouble. I took a long drag of my cigarette and fake-smiled, trying to speak like a regular American person and lose the Australian accent that I'd been cursed with since I was born. "Mornin' Mr. Daley."

"It's Principal Daley, Mr. Kingston. And don't you remember me telling you that next time I caught you smoking on campus, it'd result in a week of detention?" He looked at me sternly and I just held my cigarette for a second.

"Hmmm...nope, can't say I recall." I teased with a smug look on my face. I was secretly hoping for the detention, because I was just that odd. 

"I'll be seeing you after school all next week, Mr. Kingston." He took my cigarette and stomped it out before walking away, making me shout after him.

"It's Rhett, Principal Daley." I smiled to myself and dusted my hands off on my black jeans as I walked to my locker and first period. 

— — —

     "Ah, Rhett. You finally decided to join us." That was the first thing I heard as I walked into art, the only class that I didn't want to ditch. Sure, the teacher wasn't the nicest woman in the world, but I had a passion for art and actually liked it. 

"Sorry I'm late, Ms. Storm."  I took my seat in the back, and the boy next to me didn't even look up from his sketchbook. He seemed to either be extremely absorbed in his art or just extremely shy. But, I didn't care, and that didn't matter. I grabbed my own sketchbook and began to work on a new drawing based on my favorite song: Mr. Doctor Man by Palaye Royale. The drawing itself was a detailed render of a plague doctor, with the beak-like mask and all, but with a twist of a post-apocalyptic theme. And I sprinkled in some mental hospital vibes to finish up my concept. I was told that I was an incredible artist, and I believed it.

      I finished about a minute before the bell rang, then ran out so that I could shove my sketchbook in my locker and sit outside and relax during my free period before I had to get through the rest of my boring, stressful classes. I ran out and sat in the soft, tall grass, allowing myself some fresh air and time to think. The only bad thing, though, is that I left my pack of cigarettes in my locker. 

— — —

     I survived the rest of the day until the final bell, where I stood outside for a few minutes, needing to smoke and not bothering to wait. I pulled my pack out of my pocket and then realized that I'd forgotten my lighter in my locker. "Ah, come on." I looked off, and I noticed the boy from art class. Now, he was reading and didn't want to pay attention to the world. I walked up to him anyway and stood near him. "You wouldn't happen to have a lighter, would you?" I asked as politely as I could, not caring about my accent at this point. He looked up at me and shut his book, pulling off his backpack. I was right about the shy thing. 

"Y-yeah." He handed me the lighter and then put his book in his backpack. "You do know you're not supposed to smoke on school grounds, right?" He asked in a voice that sounded timid, and I just lit my cigarette with a smile. 

"Yeah, but I don't really care, as you can see. Thanks for the lighter, mate." I took a drag and handed back the lighter, and he stood and left me alone, hopping into a car that I hadn't noticed pulled up. I stood around and smoked for a few minutes before getting into my car and driving home.