Chapter 5: Seeing Through the Smoke

I ran into Natalie again by the gym. The place stank of sweat and old sneakers, the sound of basketballs echoing off cinderblock walls. I’d just finished PE, sneakers squeaking as I carried a mesh bag of volleyballs to the storage closet.

Natalie leaned against the wall—cheap leather jacket, metal cuffs on her ears, smoky eyeshadow. She looked like she’d raided Hot Topic, wild and untouchable.

We barely saw each other these days—art and AP classes two floors apart. I was too busy for drama, too focused on my future.

She stuck a cigarette in her mouth, blowing smoke with practiced defiance. She’d always wanted to look like the girls in music videos—dangerous, free.

Her parents were strict—clipboard mom, overprotective dad—but she’d always hidden a rebellious side, sneaking out to watch fireworks or stealing sips of beer. Tyler was gasoline to her fire.

Jenna, the class president, flinched behind me as we passed. Our math competition talk died instantly. She clutched her folder, nervously adjusting her glasses, then whispered, “It’s okay, let’s go together.”

One of Natalie’s friends—big guy in a varsity jacket—stepped up, trying to look tough. “Didn’t you see our girl wants to talk to him? Get lost!”

I told Jenna, “It’s fine, you go first. I’ll help you with that problem later.” She gave me a grateful look and hurried off, sneakers squeaking her retreat.

Natalie smirked, “Derek, I heard you’ve been close to a girl lately—is it her?” Her words dripped with mock jealousy.

Last week, Jenna became my deskmate—lowest score in the class, but the hardest worker I’d ever met. She’d ask me questions everywhere, even in the cafeteria. But I didn’t owe Natalie any explanations.

“It’s none of your business. Tell your friends to move—I’m in a hurry.”

She pouted, arms crossed, “We grew up together! If you’re dating, how can you not tell me? Besides, the class president is just a chubby girl. If you date her, it’ll be embarrassing!”

Her words stung, but I kept my cool. “The class president is smart and kind. Looks aren’t the only thing that matters. Not everyone’s high school is about romance.”

She flinched, then scowled, flicking away her cigarette. “Derek, you’re so boring!”

She kicked over my equipment bucket, shuttlecocks rolling everywhere, then stomped them flat as she stalked past. Her friends laughed and copied her. I stared at the mess, wondering who I’d been in love with all these years—a real person, or just an idea.