Chapter Text
Susie didn’t do well in school. Whenever she actually finished an assignment (and didn’t lose it), three more took its place. And that wasn’t even counting all the homework she had to help her little brother with. Or the fact she had to get him ready for school in the first place. If she didn’t, who would?
Not that this was a good enough reason, though. Her teachers didn’t care that their classes took up too much of her life as is. She wasn’t about to spend her time in her own home with more work.
She didn’t have any classmates that she slacked with. But she did have her sketchbook. How could she focus on English when she had hair to shade? And eyes to draw? She clicked with her artwork better than she did anyone, and she wasn’t going to change to fit in.
Not that it mattered, anyway. She wasn’t a total shut-in. She had friends online! She couldn’t hang out with them in person, they lived too far away, but they could text. And if they weren’t online, there was the rest of the internet to scroll through. Another reason why she didn’t do well in school.
So, it didn’t matter! Even when she did try, it wasn’t much good, anyway. Too many crumpled worksheets at the bottom of her bookbag, too many formulas she couldn’t remember, too many old lessons sneaking up on her–it just wasn’t worth the effort. Even with the but you have so much potential! lectures that always followed.
She didn’t want to hear any of that, either, so rather than showing up empty-handed for the umpteenth time, she hid in a bathroom stall until everyone else went to class, then made her way to the exit.
She’d never actually skipped before.
Her hands hovered above the push plate. She stared up at the exit sign. Would an alarm, like, go off, or something?
No, that wouldn’t happen. Alarms were too expensive. The fire alarm didn’t work last time some boy tugged on it.
With newfound assurance, she went outside. No alarm, only the occasional hum of traffic nearby.
Otherwise, it was quiet. Not even the singing of birds came from the woods nearby. Only her dewy steps on the grass underfoot. And the cigarettes.
She slung her backpack against the brick wall and looked out at the playground. It was hard to find another kid to get along with, so she’d sit at the picnic table and draw while the teachers talked. She missed recess. Even if she didn’t play, it was nice to be outside. Study hall was a bust. Why’d they put it as her last period, anyway? She could just go home early and do the exact same stuff. Ugh. But then she’d have to come back and get her brother, so it didn’t really matter.
It’d been years since she smelled the piney air–stronger than she remembered it. As she walked across the yard, memories of playing kickball in elementary PE filled her head. Or rather, standing in the outfield while the other kids played kickball. Sometimes one would get overenthusiastic and send the ball flying into the woods. And the teacher, not wanting to move their ass from the plastic folding chair it was firmly situated on, would tell her to be a team player for once and go get it for them.
And she would. She’d frown, and she would. She’d be careful to avoid the briars she couldn’t see, the poison ivy that she couldn’t tell apart from the normal plants, and imagine what’d happen if she just kept walking and let the trees swallow her whole. Then she’d toss the ball out and go back to thinking about Aku from Samurai Jack, or whatever.
She couldn’t remember what the woods used to look like. Maybe it stayed the exact same. It was hard to tell how time changed places you kn–
“There’s a girl!”
A redheaded boy with wide eyes pointed at her and gestured frantically to his friends. One, who held a joint, put it to his mouth and tried to smoke it all in one go.
But the tall one snatched it out of his hand, “Dude, wait,” he said, then turned to her with an uneasy smile.
She knew these boys. Robert, the one gesturing for her to come over, had been her partner for a project once. They struggled through a presentation on Gallium–how the hell were they supposed to make a sculpture of its Bohr model?--hard enough that they both probably blocked it out. He let her do the model and poster, while he focused on the actual writing and talking part. Both came out kinda bad, but he did it all himself without complaining. And he still waved at her when they passed each other in the hallway.
Ross, the one who tried to smoke the joint in one go, always wore heavy eyeliner and band shirts. He’d gotten dress coded more times than she could count. Too distracting, apparently. But his parents must’ve been able to talk the faculty out of disciplinary measures, or he just didn’t care, because he didn’t change at all. She liked how he dressed. She’d definitely dress like him if Grandpa would let her. Ross caught her staring once or twice. She’d just been excited to see another Iron Maiden fan, alright?
Lastly, there was Roy, whose voice she knew anywhere. She had English with him this year. He sat behind her, and always looked over her shoulder. She hoped he wasn’t copying her work, for his sake. He always had some joke to tell in class (and as much as she hated to admit it, he always made her laugh), or some eraser to borrow from her. Or some trouble to get into, in general. Now that she thought about it, she was pretty sure it was him who tugged the fire alarm. He’d probably be in a private school if it weren’t for the fact he acted that way–when his parents came because he threw an open pencil bag into the ceiling fan, they came in a Rolls-Royce.
“Uh, hey, Susie,” Robert said, “it’s Susie, right?”
“Yeah, it’s Susie,” Roy said.
“Right, just wanted to make sure I didn’t forget.” He forced a laugh, then held out the joint. “We’ll let you hit if you don’t tell.”
Susie hadn’t planned on reporting them, or interrupting them, to begin with. So she almost said don’t worry about it, then went to go sit by the wall and scroll on her phone.
But she’d never been high before.
Her friends tried to tell her what it was like. She read forum posts about it. All that DARE propaganda that Grandpa regurgitated only made her want to try it more.
Rolled tightly, flutters of smoke escaped its embers.
“Okay,” she said, “sounds fair. Gimme that.”
Ross nodded at her, and Roy folded his arms and huffed.
“Is this your first time smoking weed?” Robert asked.
Susie hesitated, “Yeah. Smoking anything, actually.”
“This’ll be fun, then. You just need to suck on it like a straw, alright?”
Susie nodded. That sounded easy enough.
She put the paper to her lips and took as deep a breath as she could.
“Small puffs,” Ross said, but it was too late. She held the smoke in her mouth. Her throat burned. Her eyes watered.
“You’re supposed to actually breathe it in, loser,” Roy said.
She let it all out with a wheeze, and a few coughs, just to be sure her airway was empty, and her pride was wounded.
“Don’t worry about Roy,” Robert said. “The first time he tried weed, he took one bong rip, then coughed so hard he threw up.”
“I did not,” Roy said.
Susie laughed and rolled her eyes. “So, small puffs, and breathe deeply, got it.”
She took another hit, breathing into her chest this time.
“Don’t cough,” Roy said.
She coughed. She coughed so hard she doubled over. Her diaphragm was on fire.
And of course, Roy laughed.
She imagined extinguishing the blunt on his forehead.
“It’s okay,” Robert said. He patted her back as she got it all out, “That happens to everyone the first time. It gets easier the more you do it!”
“Yeah,” Susie croaked, wishing she brought her water bottle with her. But wasn’t going to walk back and get it. She’d look like a pussy.
“On the plus side, you won’t have to hit again, since you’ll get high easily,” Robert said. “You just need to wait now!”
“How long?”
“Just a few minutes.”
A few minutes was more than enough time to get worried about it. Was this going to be like all of those stories she heard where people had the worst panic attacks of their lives? Good thing she thought about this after she already did it.
She passed the blunt to Roy with a side of glare. He glared back. He was a good five inches shorter, though, so he was at a disadvantage.
“Now,” he said, pressing the blunt to his lips, “watch how an expert does it.”
The expert coughed.
Ross punched him on the shoulder, “That’s two dollars, man.”
“Whatever,” Roy said between coughs. He dug around in his pockets, “You only do this ‘cause you want my money, don’t you?”
Ross took the bills from him, “Yeah, dude. You have more than enough.”
From this point, Robert held onto the joint.
“I smoke, like, a lot, maybe too much,” he said to Susie, “so I always have to hog it.”
Susie laughed, and to her relief, her mind finally started to slow down. The grass felt bumpy and wet beneath her sandals. The breeze tousled her hair.
“I remember,” Robert said, running his fingers over the fabric of his jacket, “you like drawing, right? What do you draw?”
“Demons,” she said, “and my own characters, sometimes.”
“Oh! That’s cool,” Robert said. “Ross likes art too.”
Ross shrugged, “It’s more spray-painting than drawing, but, yeah.”
“Spray-painting? Like graffiti, or…?” Susie said.
“Graffiti’s more his thing nowadays.” Ross gestured to Roy, who smirked. “My dad works with cars and motorcycles, and I help him with paint jobs sometimes.”
Susie didn’t know the first thing about vehicles. She liked their shapes.
“Nice,” she said.
“Yeah, Rob and I keep saying we’ll buy some miniatures and paint those–”
“Like, normally,” Robert said, “not spraying.”
“Not spraying,” Ross said. “But we never do because Rob can’t make up his mind.”
“I don’t wanna mess any of them up!” Robert said. “They all look too good, it’s intimidating.”
“Car miniatures, or the D&D ones?” Susie asked. She did a few of the car ones.
“D&D,” Ross said. “I get enough of cars as is.”
Damn.
“I’ve always wanted to play D&D,” Susie said. “Never had enough people, though.”
“Well, I’m a DM,” Ross said. “Maybe we could help you learn the basics sometime.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, dude,” Robert said, “another player would be great. Would make things more interesting.”
“We already have a game going,” Roy mumbled.
Ross gave him a look–one of the quiet, you types–then continued, “It seems complicated, but it’s easy once you get into it. If you like mythos, though, you might be more into Call of Cthulhu. Not quite the same as demons, but…”
“Oh, totally!” Susie smiled. Lovecraftian creatures were more her brother's thing, but she could appreciate them. They were beyond demons. Eat your heart out, Beelzebub.
“I wanted to ask you,” she began, “the other day, I saw you wearing an Iron Maiden shirt, what other musicians do you like? I was starting to think I was the only one around here that liked them.”
“Well, I love Korn,” Ross said.
“On the cob,” Robert said, then laughed when everyone rolled their eyes.
“I also like Bauhaus, Rob Zombie, Siouxsie and the Banshees,” he counted them on his fingers, “and whatever else you listen to while you summon your demons.”
He didn’t seriously think–no, no, he’s joking. He was just one of those people that always kept a straight face. Part of the whole goth thing, right.
“You should make me a playlist then, for ambiance,” Susie said.
“Sure,” Robert said, then pulled out his phone.
She said, “I wasn’t–”
“I’ve kinda been getting into anime now that my brother’s showed me so many movies,” Robert said, “and some of the songs are really good. Even if I dunno what they’re singing.”
“Weeb,” Roy said.
Maybe saying she liked Vocaloid music would be fine. With Robert, at least.
“What animes do you like?” Susie asked.
“Right now, I’m into Soul Eater. Have you heard of it?”
“I haven’t seen the show, but I’ve been reading the manga!” she said. “I love the art style. It’s so… weird compared to a lot of other manga. I say weird with love, by the way.”
“Oh, dude,” Robert said, “you gotta show me sometime. I’ve been trying to save up to buy it; I’ve just been pirating the show.”
“I’d love to show you,” Susie said.
“Soul Eater? Who eats souls?” Roy asked.
She listened for the sounds of squirrels rustling in the underbrush, and there were none. But the sunlight was warm on her skin, like an embrace long passed. She should spend more time outside.
“Roy,” she asked, “what kinda stuff are you into?”
“Whuh?” He tilted his head at her. “Why do you wanna know, huh?”
“Because that’s what we’re talking about?”
“Oh, right,” he said, “I zoned out. I don’t listen to a lot of music. I like rap, though. Like Eminem. Have you heard of Eminem?”
“Yes,” Susie frowned, “I’ve heard of Eminem.”
“Good,” he said. “I like Hollywood Undead, too. They’re cool. I don’t have creative hobbies, really, I just play video games.”
“I play, too,” Susie said.
“I bet you play Animal Crossing,” Roy said.
“Pokémon HeartGold and DOOM, actually,” she said.
“What’s wrong with Animal Crossing?” Ross put his phone back into his pocket.
“Nothing,” Roy said.
“It’s chill, and you get to hang out with cute animals,” Robert said. “What’s wrong with having a good time?”
“Nothing! Oh my god, I didn’t even say anything,” Roy huffed. Then, to Susie, “Ugh, anyway, I’ve been asking my parents about taking boxing lessons, but they keep saying no.”
“Why?” Susie said, “You seem like you’d be good at punching people.”
“I’d be great at punching people,” Roy smiled, patting his bicep. He always wore that same sweater. “But they say it’s barbaric. Stupid. Whatever. So for now, it’s just video games. I play them with Rob and Ross a lot.”
“You like cooking too, don’t you?” Robert said. “I remember you m–”
“Dude, shut up,” Roy said, glancing back at Susie while he glared at Robert. Robert held his hands up, then shrugged.
Susie was surprised–not by the outburst, that was par for the course, but by the cooking. Roy seemed like the type to have a butler bring him everything on a silver tray. Get fed grapes while being fanned. She’d like to know more, but it was obviously a touchy subject for him. Oh, well.
“Speaking of food,” Ross cleared his throat, “I’m getting the munchies. Let’s go eat.”