Kids These Days

Chapter 1: Ronan

It's my third cigarette of the day, but the smoke still stings when it hits my lungs. I let out a strangled cough as the sharp burns spreads through my throat, turning the humid summer air into ashy flames. Elvis chuckles at my discomfort. "Don't be a little bitch," he says, puffing on a joint that bites of more than nicotine. Then, just to rub it in, he digs his elbow into my ribs.

I take the hit without complaint. Elvis isn't the type of guy you want to back-talk-- he's six foot four and stacked like a linebacker who snorts protein powder for breakfast, and he fights dirty and dances even dirtier. We call him Elvis because he pelvic thrusts like nobody's business, even when there's no music playing.

Mikey sidles up beside me. (We call him Mikey because that's his name.) "Your boyfriend is looking for you," he says, blowing acrid-smelling smoke into my face. Unlike Elvis, Mikey is short as hell, but what he lacks in height he makes up with in ego. "Want me to tell him where you are or do you need to put your cigarette out first?"

My friends like to joke about Jesse Brooks being my boyfriend because we used to hang out a lot. (Talk about dramatic irony. ) "Hey, do you really think this could ever be a side-piece?" I gesture vaguely at my body, which hasn't felt so impressive lately. The muscles I packed on during my weight-training class look minuscule next to Elvis' powerful build. "If Jesse wants some of this action, he's gonna have to wait in line."

"You're such a fucking idiot," Mikey says, but he laughs while he says it. His high-pitched guffaw reminds me a bit of a hyena. "But seriously, Brooks has been looking all over campus for you, weeping and wiping his eyes on your handkerchief. Trouble in paradise?"

"Everyday your jokes get better and better." I fan away another one of his clouds of smoke. My hand twitches slightly, either from fatigue or jitteriness or the slight urge to smack Mikey across his freckled face. "Where, oh where, do you get your inspiration?"

"I'd tell you, but then I'd have to kill you."

"That's cute."

"Not as cute as you and Jesse Br--"

This time, I reach out and shove him. Mikey stumbles backwards, a laugh knocked out of his chest as he hits the brick wall of the school. "You break it, you buy it," he wheezes. "Dickhead."

I don't know why I'm so angry. Usually, I can deal with Mikey's dumb jokes, but now I want to use him as my own personal punching bag. "The next time you talk shit about Jesse Brooks I'll put out my cigarette in your hair," I snap at him. "And that's not me being cute."

"Watch yourself, Ronan," Elvis warns.

"Don't tell me what to do, Dylan."

"Oh, fuck off. Now you're just being a prick."

Mikey smirks at me as he peels himself off the brick wall. "I'm only trying to look out for you, Lockwood. I don't want my best friend getting his heart broken."

"As if he has one left to break," Elvis mutters.

I shoot Elvis a dark look that says very funny. "They don't call me the lady-killer for nothing," I retort, but my tone is too resentful and the joke falls flat. "Anyways..." I take one last drag and then drop my cigarette on the ground, grinding it into the dirt with the heel of my Chucks. "Where'd you say Jesse was looking for me?"

"Fuck if I know. All I remember is that I was walking here and he ran up to me all worried and shit, and told me that he had to talk to you. Like, A-S-A-P."

"And when exactly was this?"

"I dunno. Maybe thirty minutes ago?"

"ASAP means as soon as possible, you moron!" I pivot away, angrier than ever. If Jesse was worried thirty minutes ago, then I can only imagine he'll be having fits now.... "Thanks for nothing, asshole. Try not to get lung cancer while I'm gone."