Worse Than Nicotine

There was only one thing Holly enjoyed about September, and it was the warm air. Hayley, Brendon, and her sat out on their favorite spot for lunch: a small picnic table outside and close to the football field, just under a beautiful apple tree. They had claimed this spot in freshmen year. Holly remembered that day well: the day Brendon almost tried to fight a group of juniors for the spot because the cafeteria was already filled up. He was going to use the moves he learned from watching The Karate Kid, but the juniors got a good laugh at him and left the table to them anyways. Boy, we’re they lucky.

Holly and Brendon sat on the top of the table, sharing a cigarette since it was the last one from Holly’s pack. Hayley sat on the ground and ate her PB and J sandwich. She wasn’t a big fan of smoking, but let Holly and Brendon do as they pleased. They were far away from the school, so no one would smell it anyways.

“So,” Brendon cough, flicking some ashes to the ground, “how was the new music teacher?” A smile lightened his face as he joked.

Holly shrugged and took a hit of the cigarette. “He was pretty cool.”

“Oh, shut up, Holl.” Hayley shook her head, turning to the blonde’s boyfriend. “She was literally drooling over the guy.”

“Looks like I have some competition,” Brendon smiled and leaned in to kiss Holly’s cheek. But she beat him to the punch and spun her head, connecting their lips.

“Ugh, can you not?” Hayley scoffed, grabbing a potato chip from her bag and throwing it at them.

Holly leaned away and frowned at her friend, Brendon resting his head on his girlfriend’s shoulder. “Come on, you would be doing the same thing if Chad was here.”

Hayley looked down. “That’s different …”

“It’s not different!”

“Okay, okay, c’mon, girls.” Brendon laughed while hopping down from the table. “Lunch is about to end anyways.”

Hayley stuffed the rest of her food back in her bag as Brendon held out his hand for Holly to get down from the table. She smiled, and that was when Brendon started quoting. “If I profane with my unworthiest hand―this holy shrine, the gentle fine is this: my lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand, to smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.”

Holly sighed and hopped down from the bench, clearly agitated yet again by Brendon’s love for quoting her least favorite Shakespeare play. What surprised her was that she still remembered words from it, and she took her own little spin on them.

“Good asshole, you do shit with your hand too much, which mannerly devotion shows in this. For dumbass saints have hands that pilgrims’ hands do touch, and palm to palm is holy awful palmers’ kiss.” She smirked his way as they walked backed in the school, arm in arm.

Brendon cleared his throat. “You got a few words wrong.”

Holly took one last drag from the cigarette and finally stomped on it. “I know.”

---

As soon as she got off the bus, Holly walked to her house to put her bag down and then took her weekly drive to the local convenience store to buy another pack of cigarettes. She stood next to a pillar after parking her mom’s car, knowing that the owner’s eyes were on her as she waited for some random sleazy adult to get her a pack. But the owner didn’t mind this; she actually knew Mr. Petrelli really well. He just had cameras in the store now, and Mr. Petrelli was known for selling some things to minors, so the police made him install the cameras. As long as nothing was on the cameras, he didn’t care. He was a true Italian after all: his loves were cash and food.

She leaned on the dirty cement pillar, tapping her foot impatiently. She had Brendon’s band practice to get to, but she wanted a new pack badly. Usually Timmy the Drunk would come around this time every Thursday to buy her a pack, which she would graciously pay him for it after. After fifteen minutes, she had thought about leaving, until an unexpected person came around.

“Mr. Gaskarth?”

The familiar young teacher spun his head in her direction, a small smile appearing on his face. “Oh, hey. How are you, Miss Wolfe?”

“Mr. Gaskarth, please just call me Holly.” She fidgeted with her fingers in awkwardness.

“Right, right, still getting used to this whole thing.” He nodded.

She lofted a brow. “You took this job right out of college, didn’t you?”

“Does it show?” He asked, and she chuckled while nodding. “So what’re you doing out here?”

“I …” She wondered if she should tell him. I mean, he wasn’t just an adult, he was her teacher. But she was desperate, and she wasn’t fond of waiting for Timmy the Drunk for the next hour. “I need someone to buy me a pack of cigarettes.”

“Really?” He questioned and she nodded quickly. “I’ll be right back.”

She widened her eyes as he walked into the store. “Wait, Mr. Gaskarth!”

He was already inside, so she gave up. She groaned and turned to the window of the convenience store, which still had Christmas lights strung up on the pipes. (Mr. Petrelli always liked to start the Christmas season early.) She was surprised to see him buying two packs of Marlboros. Was a teacher really doing this for her?

This should be something on my bucket list, she thought.

He walked out of the store a few minutes later, sliding one pack in his back pocket and the other in her hand. She looked down at the Marlboro in her small hand. When she didn’t put it away, he hesitantly enclosed her hands around it and made her hand drop to her side. “That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?” He asked.

“Uh, yeah,” she shook her head a few times. “I just …”

“Didn’t expect a teacher to help you out?” He smiled a little.

She slid the pack in her back pocket. “You’re something else, Mr. Gaskarth.” She then pulled out her wallet, flipping through the bills. “So, what do I owe you?”

“Nothing.”

She glanced up at his eyes, shocked. She took this time to acknowledge how nice his eyes were: they were so dark, but not too dark. They reminded you of chocolate, with just a hint of gold in them. “Nothing?” She finally questioned.

“Just don’t be late for class tomorrow.” He said and started walking away.

Without thinking, she caught up to him and immediately clutched his hand. He looked at her confused and she quickly released it. “There’s really nothing at all I can do to pay you back?” He shrugged at her question, so she then suggested, “Can I give you a ride home? Sometimes it sucks to walk all around the dirty streets of ol’ Baltimore.”

He contemplated his options for a second; she was his student and this was his first teaching job, making him wonder if this kind of thing was frowned upon. But from the smile on her face and her eagerness to not let a simple thing as a person buying another person a pack of cigarettes get past her, he agreed.

---

The ride with Mr. Gaskarth was quiet mostly, except for Holly’s old Dookie CD playing in the background. This left Mr. Gaskarth to smile and ask, “You like Green Day?”

“Obviously,” she smirked, “they’re only the foundation of punk music all together.”

He grinned. “Yes, but except for―”

“The Ramones and Red Hot Chili Peppers?” She finished and he nodded. “I’ll have you know that I’m very kept up with my music taste, Mr. Gaskarth.”

All he did was smile the rest of the ride home. He never expected to have a student with such great music taste. He never expected to have a student drive him home, actually. But he could already tell that this school year would be interesting for him, because Miss Holly Wolfe was definitely an interesting individual.

“Is this your place?” She asked, leaning into her rearview window to take a better look at the grungy apartment building. Besides the bricks falling out and the bird poop covered ledges, Holly found the rose vines crawling up the sides astatically pleasing. She didn’t know what she was expecting Mr. Gaskarth’s house to look like―she knew the salary of teachers since Brendon’s mother worked on the school board―but she didn’t think his place would be so … uninviting.

“Yeah,” he said, unlocking his seat belt. “Thanks for the ride.”

“Thanks for the Marlboros.” She tapped the fuzzy purple steering wheel as Mr. Gaskarth got out from her mom’s car.

She watched the familiar swivel of his hips as he walked away in her side window, surprised to see him turn around one last time to say, “I’ll see you tomorrow in class, Miss Wolfe.”

She smirked his way, biting on her nail nervously while she watched him get inside his building. After sitting there in her car for five minutes, looking at the same spot where her “fuck me senseless” hot new teacher sat, she realized something.

“Fuck! Brendon’s band practice!” She sped off in the direction of her boyfriend’s house.

Notes

I really like writing Holly's character ^w^ I don't know, she's just so different.. Way different from me, actually! Okay, I'll stop talking now xD
Subscribe/ comment/ rate :)
Rock on \m/