My friend at school, I'll name her green, is hilariously goth.
She once confided in me that in a very very alternative universe, she wished she smoked. She knows it's horrible and would never do it, but she still loves the look.
I don't smoke and don't plan on it!
I joked with her that I'd get her some for her birthday. She then told me that I should never ever get her any as a joke because she will actually smoke lthem.
So I had to get one.
Fall Dance
I found myself on Friday night, pink cocktail dress and all, asking older boys and girls for a smoke at a school dance. It's not for me, it's for an art project. I swear!' I'd said. It was feasible, considering it is an art school.
I'd asked a boy with vans, SoundCloud, and a drug plug for some but he didn't have any. He led me to
Ethan, who was a year older than me, 6'2, and probably high. He led me to
Kyle, who was not even at the dance. After even more boys with a hitch in their voice and a surprised glare, I was met by an old friend.
I've never known him well, but he has existed in the background.
Trying to confidently ask the most gorgeous boy you've ever seen for a cigarette in 2018 (as a gag gift to bully your friend with!!) is probably the oddest of circumstances I'd been in all week.
Amongst the piles of juvenile vapes and cracked faces I'd never let my lips touch
Acid tablets That'll never melt on my tongue .
I approached the looming but consistent force. He had been recommended by Ethan, so why not?
I remember weeks ago, I was afraid of him. I'd asked him in passing about his schedule. Very clearly walking up to him.
"Red!" I said. "I have a question about the schedule next year? Mine is giving me a heart attack."
His eyes were targeting the students dashing in front of him.
Amongst the bustling hallway, I put my hand on his arm.
"Red?"
No response.
Like the David in the louve, frozen beauty.
I left, shaken up.
Was he so repulsed by me, that he pretended I didn't exist?
Play dead, she won't see me.
Or, was he stoned? Pilled-out? More lingo I'll never understand.
A very selfish and teenage part of me wishes it were drugs.
I was met by the dark and the light outside the school. It was my time to face him again.
"Oh my god," he covered his mouth. "Who told you to come to me? Can I get a name?!" His deep blue eyes almost bulged out of his head. "I don't smoke! I cannot believe," he smiled while he panicked.
His friend and I giggled.
"Right...." I said sarcastically. I can't decide if it was cheeky or embarrassing, but I think I bit the corner of my lip when I said it.
"Oh my God! I don't smoke!"
More laughter.
"I can get you a cigarette on Monday, I swear" for some odd reason his hands went to his hair as if he didn't want me to know something. His face was the same color as my dress. We matched, both blushing in our own ways. Probably the most we'll interact after that musical I was in with him 3 years ago.
"Wait, I don't think I'll be with anyone who smokes this weekend - I promise I can get you one," he spoke so frantically and over-dramatically.
Touched by the fact that he would actively do me a favor, to think of me for at least a second, I resisted the urge.
"No, it's fine," a very proud grin reached my face. "You don't have to waste one on me."
His friend let out another laugh.
It's hard convincing myself to not dream that he'll think about this again.
To tell myself I really am witty, that I didn't make a mockery of me.
That my pink dress didn't look to girly, too baby-ish.
To believe that the night was really about green.
