Chapter 4: Inhaling Poison

My anxiety is through the roof as I stare at the time.

8:24PM

It's Tuesday. I cut classes Monday while my cheek healed and worked Tuesday, and now it's Tuesday night, and I have to show my face in French class and I don't know what to do.

Mason is no help. He doesn't know anything about when to apologize, Brenda gets upset about everything. If Brenda elbowed him in the ribs like French Fry did to me, he'd have apologized.

I scowl down at my cell phone as I pick it up off of the mattress next to me.

If my mother walked into my bedroom right now, she would kill me.

I took my sheets of Sunday night to wash them, and I washed them, but they sit in a heap on the floor next to my dresser, and I'm using a pink blanket I found in the closet. Mason told me it's Brenda's blanket but I don't give a shit because it's soft. I've been sleeping directly on my mattress with nothing covering it. Clothing and shoes litter my floor because my hamper is overflowing and I have no desire to do laundry.

Bottles of water litter my side table, and my floor around it. I have four or five bowls in here and maybe six plates with utensils for every object.

I go to my contacts and go to P.

I click on Peyton, staring at her number.

I hardly call her, so when she picks up on the third ring, I'm not surprised.

"What do you want, Nate?" She asks.

"Is that how to greet your baby brother?" I ask.

Peyton is five years older than me, at twenty eight, and we have a younger brother, Julian, and he's seventeen. I'm five years older than him, and Peyton is ten years older than him.

"Sorry, you only call me when you need money or a ride from the airport or something." She says. "So how much money do you need?"

"I don't need money." I glare at the bedroom door. It's pitch black in here but I've been too lazy to reach over and turn the light on.

"Then what do you need?"

I chew on my bottom lip, muttering in response.

"What?" She asks.

"Advice." I mumble.

"Nathan, you're twenty three." She says. "Speak up."

"Advice!" I snap.

She's quiet, and then I hear a shuffling.

"You need advice?" She asks. "You need to talk? You never call me to talk." She sounds concerned now. "What's happened?"

I swallow.

"I got slapped in the face on Monday." I say.

"What?" She asks. "Why?"

I explain everything to her.

"I called her a brat." I say. "And she asked if my mother ever taught me how to treat a lady, and I told her yes, that she wasn't a lady so it didn't apply to her, and then I told her that she probably doesn't talk to her Mom, and then she slapped me across the face, screamed at me in French, and then cut class."

"Nathan!" she scolds. "What the hell happened to you? You used to be such the gentlemen. I remember when you were five and you used to run in front of me or Mom to open doors for us before we could do it ourselves. You were so sweet up until you were nineteen when that girl asked for Mason's number and ever since then, you've been a dick to everyone, letting doors slam into our faces...you don't even wear your old sweaters anymore. You used to be so sweet. You could meet the nicest girl, but no, instead, you choose to go after girls and insult them. Don't think I don't know how you talk to Mason's girlfriend."

I groan loudly.

"Brenda is a blithering idiot!" I say.

"Brenda is a girl. It doesn't matter if she's an idiot."

I sigh.

"I didn't call to be scolded, Peyton." I say. "I called for advice."

"You want advice?" She asks. "Stop being so selfish. Everything is not about you. When your friends invite you to third wheel, go without complaining. If you see something that needs to stop that you know will benefit somebody, do something about it. Stand up for what you believe in, bring your damn sweaters out again, start opening doors for people, stop insulting girls, and apologize to the girl in your French class."

"But-"

"Even if you don't think you did anything wrong." She says. "And make sure you do what you think is right. You know deep down that this bullshit you're pulling isn't right."

I sigh slowly.

"Oh, and call Mom once in a while." She says. "She misses you a lot and she's convinced you don't care about her."

"That's ridiculous." I scoff.

"What's ridiculous is your behavior." She says. "Look, I have to go, alright? You're interrupting Grey's Anatomy and you of all people knows what it feels like to have your Netflix interrupted. Now go turn yourself into the gentlemen you were raised to be."

She hangs up on me.

I scowl at the dark window.

I am not apologizing to French Fry.

_____

I woke up at four in the morning and couldn't fall asleep, so I spent three hours in the gym and then went home and showered.

Now I stand in my bedroom, staring at my closet.

Peyton said to wear my sweaters again.

I know how to dress myself well, but I don't feel like wearing the sweaters today.

Baby steps.

I nod to myself as I pull on a white tank top. I slide a grey and purplish red button down plaid shirt on. I button it up and grab my brown leather jacket. I pull on my jeans and put on my brown combat boots, but they're not leather, they're a thick cloth.

I fix my hair in my bedroom mirror and grab the keys for my car, glancing at the clock.

7:18AM.

I rub the sleep from my eyes. I should probably shave but I don't really feel like it. It's just a little stubble.

I shove my wallet and phone in my pocket, walking out of the apartment. I pull my leather jack on as I head down to the car. I pull out my phone and text Mason.

Me: I left early, sorry

I double click the home button and shut the app.

I bite my lip.

7:19AM

I open my contacts and scroll down to M.

I'm sure she's up, she's probably getting ready for work.

I click on Mom. And press the phone icon under her name.

It rings four times and then stops.

"Nathan?" She asks. Her voice sounds so bright and happy.

"Hi Mom." I say, unlocking my car.

"Is everything okay?" She asks, worried.

"Everything is fine." I say. "I just...wanted to hear your voice." I say. "I miss you."

"Oh sweetie!" She exclaims. She pauses, and I hear her sniffling.

"Are you crying?" I ask.

"No, my-I've got something in my eye." She says. "How are you darling? I haven't heard from you since you left on the second."

"I'm alright Mom." I say. "How are you?"

"Oh, I'm okay, you know, same old, same old. Are you coming here in May?"

I frown.

"Why would I come there in May?"

"Nathan, your brother graduates from high school!" She says.

"Oh." I say. "Right, no, of course. I'm coming." I nod, starting the engine. I put her on speaker and back out of the parking spot.

"You can bring your girlfriend if you want." She says.

I laugh. This is her way of fishing for answers.

"I haven't got a girlfriend." I say. "You shouldn't expect grandkids from my, alright? Expect them from Peyton and Julian."

"Why? Did something happen? Can you not have children?"

"No, Mom!" I laugh. "I'm fine, I just...don't see it happening with a girl."

She gasps.

"Are you gay? Oh darling, I knew it!"

"Mom!" I exclaim. "I'm not gay! I'm just...not good with the girls, you know?"

"I can have Julian give you advice. He's rather good at getting girlfriends. Honey, I think he's a player."

I laugh.

"I don't need advice from Julian, alright? I got it handled."

"Great, I expect to meet your future girlfriend in May."

"What if I don't have one?"

"Then find one." She says. "I have to go baby, Julian won't get out of bed."

I laugh.

"Okay. Bye Mom, I love you."

"I love you too sweetheart, call me again, okay?"

"Okay."

"Bye."

"Bye."

I hang up.

I'm already at the campus, so I walk over to the café and get a coffee and a bagel. I eat the bagel quickly. My phone buzzes when I'm halfway done.

Mason: where are you

Me: I told you I left

Mason: where on campus

Me: oh, café

He doesn't respond.

A couple minutes later, he walks in, he orders stuff and takes his coffee and breakfast burrito, sitting down across from me.

"I didn't hear your alarm this morning." He says.

"I've been up since four." I mutter, swallowing the last bite of my bagel. I down it with some coffee and watch as Mason wolfs his down his throat.

"Why?" He questions. I shrug. "What are you going to say to Odeletta?" He asks.

Again, I shrug.

"Do you know anything?"

His mouth is overflowing with food.

"I know that you need to stop talking while you eat, you're repelling the women."

"I have a women."

"You have a hamster." I reply, and then I remember I have to be nice. "Sorry." I grumble.

He swallows the food his his mouth.

"Did you just apologize for insulting Brenda?" He asks, astounded.

"I'm trying to be a gentlemen." I mutter.

He looks surprised.

"Nate, I've known you for a long time." He says. "I was there when you kissed that girl in the second grade." He reminds me. "And I was there when you were nice and sweet and a real gentlemen, and I was jealous because I didn't know how somebody could be so insufferably nice. Then Katy asked for my number, and ever since then, you've a dick. You used to dress like an approachable gentlemen, and now how you dress isn't that bad, but it doesn't look like happy you. I'm worried, and I've been for years. Why are you suddenly trying to be nice?"

I swallow.

"I called Peyton." I say. "She told me to stop being a dick to everyone, so I'm going to try. Don't fret it, alright? It's not a big deal."

He throws his trash out.

"I won't even mention it."

It's around 7:50 now, so we head out of the café, towards the French class.

"What time do you work today?" He asks.

"Five until ten thirty." I respond, glancing at him. "Why?"

It's cold out here, so I shove my hands in the pockets of my jeans.

He grins.

"I'm having Brenda over."

"You have Brenda over every night." I respond.

"Yes, but I want to have loud sex." He says.

"She's always loud." I say.

He smiles smugly. "That's not her being loud."

"You're disgusting." I say,.
"You're jealous i get pussy and you don't." He says.
I sigh, inhaling deeply after I let it out.
Instead of getting cold, crisp fresh air, I smell cigarette smoke.

Mason smells it too because his face screws up in disgust and we both turn, looking for the source.

I stop walking when I see French Fry sitting on a nearby bench.

She's wearing black tinny jeans, her black combat boots, a maroon t-shirt that's just plain, and her black leather jacket.

And for some reason, the sight of her with a cigarette infuriates me.

She's so fucking beautiful, and the fact that she's sitting there, her legs crossed like a lady, a cigarette resting in her right hand, her brown short hair pinned back, a couple of loose brown tendrils falling, making smoking a cigarette look elegant pisses me the fuck off.

She seems to be lost in thought as she lifts the white stick of poison to her mouth, inhaling slowly before blowing it out.

Suddenly, I hear Peyton's voice in my head.

If you see something that needs to stop that you know will benefit somebody, do something about it.

The next thing I know, I'm walking towards her.

"Nate!" Mason hisses, reaching for my arm. I shrug his grip off, walking until I'm standing in front of her.

She looks up at me and raises her eyebrows.

Just before the cigarette touches her lips again, I pluck it from her fingers and press it into the heap of snow next to the bench she's sitting on. I toss it in the trash.

"Smoking is disgusting." I spat. "And you're willingly inhaling poison into your lungs."

"How dare you!" She stands up. Her voice when she's pissed is terrifying and feminine, but manly at the same time, and quite frankly, it turns me on.

"You should thank me!" I snap. "I just saved you a ton of medical bills! Now you won't get cancer!"

"Va te faire foutre." She hisses, grabbing her bag.

She heads towards the parking lot.

I find myself following her.

"Hey!" I snap.

For a tiny thing, she moves fast.

I jog after her, almost slipping when I reach the parking lot.

"Wait!" I say, frustrated. "French Fry!"

She walks up to a motorcycle and then stops next to it.

"Odeletta!" She corrects angrily.

"What did you say to me in French back there?" I ask, pointing to where Mason is still standing.

"I told you to go fuck yourself." She says, setting her bag on the motorcycle.

I grit my teeth, opening my mouth to cuss her out, but I stop.

"I'm sorry." I say finally, my voice hard. I have to practically force the words out of my mouth, but I sigh after I do them, and I feel the tightness in my chest loosen. "I'm sorry for calling you a brat, and I'm sorry for what I said about your Mom. I'm sure you and your Mom talk all the time. However, I'm not sorry for taking the cigarette from your mouth. I am sorry for the rest of it though, so...there you go, I'm sorry. Happy now?" I throw my hands up. She folds her arms across her chest, glancing down at the motorcycle between us and then back up at me.

Her jaw is moving back and forth as she grins her teeth, her eyes boring into mine.

God, those eyes make it difficult to watch her, but difficult to look away.

"We have a French test today. Considering you never respond when Professor Gaillard says good morning, I'm going to assume you'll fail. Sit next to me and put your buddy with the shoulder length hair to your left. One knock is A, two knocks is B, three knocks is C, and four knocks is D."

Without another word, she grabs her backpack off of the motorcycle and stalks off towards the BKER building.

"Wait!" She doesn't stop walking. "What if it's fill in the blank!?" I call.