Chapter Text
Nick Waters dared to think that this day wasn't so bad. Sure he had two tests, both in his worst subjects, but for once, he felt pretty good about them. But of course, his good day couldn't last. And the reason for that, was named Mrs. Starch, his third period biology teacher; one of the most feared teachers of the school. Actually no; she's "the" scariest teacher at the school.
"Nick!" His best friend Marta hissed, tugging on his arm. Nick glanced over to her, raising an eyebrow. "What? You know we can't be late to Starch's class." Marta let out a long sigh. "You also can't go to Starch's class with out your biology book." Nick's eyes widened, and he frantically looked into his backpack, praying that Marta was just playing some sick joke on him. Unfortunately though, she'd been right. He had completely forgotten to stop by his locker.
"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" He demanded, looking back in despair in the direction of his locker, which was pretty far from where they were. Marta shook her head, her eyes apologetic. "I forgot," She said. "I'm sorry, Nick. Hey, maybe the witch won't be here today?" Nick smiled at his friend's hopeful tone, but he shook his head. "We both know she never misses a day," He said. "Let's just hope she doesn't notice the fact that I don't have my book." Marta snorted. "Yeah right. If only that was a possibility. I swear she's like a bat or something. Sorry to say this Nick, but you're kind of screwed."
Before Nick could come up with a proper reply, they had reached the class room, and he immediately closed his mouth. It wasn't smart to talk in Mrs. Starch's class, especially now, when he didn't have his book. He promised himself that mo matter what, he wouldn't bring any attention to himself. Now he just hoped he could actually keep that promise. Deep down however, he knew that if it was Marta that was in trouble, he might have to sacrifice himself. "Hopefully it doesn't come to that." He thought, taking his seat.
When the bell rang, Mrs. Starch herself rose from her chair at the front of the class, her usual Ticonderoga pencil in hand. Nick glanced over to Marta, who's brown eyes were locked on Mrs. Starch and her elbows were planted on either side of the book, pinning it open to chapter eight. Looking around the class room, Nick noticed that everyone had their book out, even Smoke, who never participated in class. Nick was starting to tense up, and he forced himself to relax, not wanting Mrs. Starch to notice his fatal error.
"Good morning people," Mrs. Starch said, in a mild voice, which Nick found chilling. "Who's prepared to tell me about the Calvin cycle?"
"The what?" Nick thought frantically, racking his brain for the information he knew wouldn't be there. Nick really sucked at remembering things, especially in a high-pressure situation like this. Only one hand rose, belonging to Gram, who always claimed to know the right answers but never did. Mrs. Starch hadn't called on him since the first week, but that didn't stop Gram from trying. Nick sighed. It was the usual events once again. Mrs. Starch wouldn't receive an answer from anyone, as they were all trying not to be noticed. Despite knowing this already, Nick couldn't help but pay close attention. He had a feeling that something was about to happen this time.
"The Calvin cycle?" She repeated. "Anybody?" Though class just started, Marta already looked as if she might throw up again. Nick really hoped she wouldn't. The last time that had happened, Mrs. Starch had barely waited until the floor was cleaned, before instructing Marta to write a paper on five major muscles used in the act of regurgitation. Even now, the question of, "What kind of teacher punishes a kid for puking?" kept repeating in his head.
"By now the photosynthetic presses should be familiar to all of you." Mrs Starch said, and Nick looked down slightly. "No," He thought. "It is not familiar to me at all." From the corner of his eyes, Nick saw Marta close her eyes, and taking a deep breath. He knew about her nightmares about their teacher, and he didn't blame her. If he wasn't so busy having nightmares about his father getting killed, he too might be dreaming about her. Her eyes flicker miserably to Nick, before quickly snapping back to the teacher. Nick sighed internally. He knew something like this would happen. He'd have to sacrifice himself after all. "There's still hope." He thought weakly, but he knew better. His fate was almost sealed. Part of him wondered if he liked her enough to throw himself at Mrs. Starch, who was now starting to pace. She was scanning the class, selecting a victim.
"Plants, as we all know, are vital to human existence. And with that the Calvin cycle, plants could not exist." Gram was waving his arm around, reminding Nick of a puppy. He hoped she'd call on him, but of course, she didn't. Mrs. Starch stopped her pacing, and Nick bit his lip. She was in front of Marta's row. Nick knew he had to make up his mind immediately if he wanted to help his friend.
"The chart on page 169 makes it all plain as day. It's an excellent illustration, and one that you might encounter on a test. Quite, likely."
For now, Nick did his best to ignore Mrs. Starch, his eyes drawn across the room to Smoke, who currently had his head down on the desk, his black hair falling to one side like a curtain. He bit his lip, forcing himself to look away. He was confused. Lately his eyes had been drawn to the boy, and can't figure out why. They don't speak to each other, and they only had this class together. But Nick has been seeing Smoke everywhere. In the halls, the cafeteria, and just... everywhere. He had no idea why he began paying close attention to the school's resident bad boy, but he was trying to stop it. It was kind of freaking him out.
Nick was brought sharply out of his thoughts when Mrs. Starch began pointing her pencil at Marta. It was now or never. Despite the fact that his mind was still on Duane Scrod, he knew that Marta came first, so he took a deep breath, and raised his hand. "She's gonna crush me like a bug." He thought, already planning out his funeral. He hoped his mother made it nice.
"Oh, Duane?" Mrs. Starch sang out, and Nick let out a quiet sigh, half in relief, and also in annoyance. The mean old bird had totally faked him out, and Marta too. Not only that, but his mind was back on Smoke thanks to her.
Nick had known Duane since elementary school, when he was two years ahead of Nick and known as Duane the dweeb. One summer, Duane the dweeb grew five inches and gained 31 pounds, and from then everyone called him Smoke. Because that's what he wanted to be called. Some kids however, say that it's because he was a pyro. Nick had really only said a few words to Smoke, who hardly ever spoke at school. The few times he did, it was when he was fighting with a teacher. Nick figured that the three times they really spoke was because he'd caught the boy in a good mood.
"So, Duane?" Mrs Starch said, once again pulling Nick out of his thoughts. "Have you finished chapter eight?" Smoke slowly raised his eyes toward Mrs. Starch, his chin resting on his cupped hands. A sleepy look was on his face, and Nick looked away for a moment, confused as to why his face felt warm. He really needed to get this thing, whatever it was, under control.
"Duane?" Mrs. Starch said again sweetly. "I guess I read it, yeah." Smoke drawled, sounding very uninterested. Nick bit his lip, fighting back a smile. It turned out he was right, and something was about to happen. "You guess?" The teacher repeated, spinning the pencil into a blur, which under different circumstances would've been entertaining. Smoke shrugged. "I read so much, I forget which is which." Nick's attention was focused on teacher and student, so he jumped when he felt someone nudging his arm. Looking over he saw Marta giving him a grateful smile. "Thank you." Nick looked down, blushing slightly. "For raising your hand." She whispered. "No big deal." He said from the corner of his mouth.
Mrs. Starch walked across the class room until she was standing right next to Smoke's desk. "I see you've brought your biology book today. That's progress Duane."
"I guess."
"But you'll find that it's much easier to read when it's not up-side-down." She rotated the textbook using her pencil. Smoke nodded. "Yeah, that's better." He then tried to open the book, but Mrs. Starch pressed down on the book, keeping it closed. "No peaking," She said. "Tell me how the Calvin cycle produces sugar from carbon dioxide, and why it's important to photosynthesis."
"Give me a minute." He said, before casually picking at a nasty zit on his neck.
"We're all waiting." Mrs. Starch said, which was true. The other students, especially Nick were on the edge of their seats. They all knew now that something possibly legendary was about to happen. Nick could tell that despite Smoke's ability to scare any of his classmates and teachers, it didn't seem to work on Mrs Starch. When he tried to flick the pencil off the book, it didn't budge. He leaned back and said, "What's the question again?"
Marta groaned under her breath, and Nick bit his upper lip. The longer Smoke kept this up, the worse it was going to be when Mrs. Starch finally snapped.
"For the last time," She said coldly, causing Nick's breath to catch slightly. "Tell us about, the Calvin cycle!"
"Is that like a Harley?" Smoke asked, and the class erupted in laughter. The corner of Smoke's mouth tugged up into the barest trace of a smile, and his dark eyes seemed to brighten slightly. It was a sight that Nick never saw, and he was focused on it, unable to look away.
The class grew silent almost immediately, because Mrs. Starch was smiling, something that she never did. Marta covered her face. "He's so dead." She whimpered quietly, and Nick agreed with her. This wasn't going to end well for Duane.
"So Duane, it turns out your a comedian. And all this time we all thought you were just another dull lump with no talent and no future." She said, practically hissing out the last few words. "I guess." Smoke replied, once again picking at the pimple on his face. Nick was happy to see his eyes still sparkled slightly, though the smile was gone.
"You do a lot of guessing don't you?"
"So what?"
"Well I am guessing that you haven't even glanced at chapter eight. Am I right?"
"Yeah."
"And I'm also guessing that you're interested in playing with your acne, then learning about the photosynthetic crosses."
Smoke's hand dropped from his neck, and he rested it in his lap. Mrs. Starch let out a sigh.
"A teacher's job is to identify and cultivate each student's strengths. And then encourage him or her to utilize those strengths, in the pursuit of knowledge." Their wasn't a trace of anger in her voice, which Nick found creepy. "So, Duane. What I'd like you to do, since you obviously fascinated on the subject, is to write a 500 word essay, about pimples."
The class exploded, and Nick and Marta couldn't help but to join in, although Nick knew the punishment was to much. Not only did Nick find it unnecessary, but it was also very humiliating to Smoke, who was now glaring at the teacher, his eyes flashing. Ignoring the look from Smoke, Mrs. Starch continued speaking. "You should start with some basic human biology. What causes skin eruptions in adolescence. There's plenty information on the internet Duane, so I expect at least, three citations."
Nick could tell that Smoke was clenching his teeth, fighting back the urge to do something stupid. Instead, he listened to the !est of her ridiculous standards for the paper, his glare still in place.
"And here's the best part Duane," She said. "I want the essay to be funny. Because you're a funny fellow. An extremely, funny, fellow."
"Not me." Smoke said through gritted teeth. "Oh don't be modest. You had everyone in stitches just a moment ago." She then turned her back on Smoke, and twirled the pencil gayly in the air. "What do you say people? Wouldn't it be amusing for Duane to write a humorous essay about pimples and read it out loud to the class?" No one was giggling any more, and even Gram had yanked down his hand. Smoke wasn't a popular kid, but it was imposable not to feel sorry for the guy. Mrs. Starch was being exceptionally brutal, even for Mrs. Starch. Marta looked ready to throw up, and Nick was beginning to feel the same way.
"Nick?" Mrs. Starch said. Nick slumped at his desk, his eyes fixed on the wood. He didn't want to be dragged into this, especially with someone like Smoke, the boy he couldn't stop paying attention to. "Mr. Waters, are you with us today?"
"Yes Mrs. Starch."
"Be honest. Wouldn't you and your classmates enjoy hearing Duane read his pimple paper?"
Nick's chin fell to his hands, his eyes darting around the class room. He made eye contact with Duane, who was studying him carefully, his face blank, except for the slight downturn of his lips.
Nick had to think of something quickly. He didn't want to say something that would anger Smoke, but he also didn't want to get picked on by Mrs. Starch for the rest of the year. Finally he settled with, "Honestly I'd rather learn about the Calvin cycle, than Duane's zits." A few student snickered nervously. "No offence." He said, looking back at Smoke, who's expression had softened slightly before looking away. Nick let out the breath he'd been holding. It looks like he'd said the right thing after all.
Unfortunately, Mrs. Starch showed no mercy. She turned back to face Duane, the pencil tapping him on the top of his head. "Five hundred words," She said. "By the end of the week."
Smoke scowled again, his mouth set in a thin line. "I don't think so!" He growled lowly. "Excuse me?" Mrs. Starch hissed in response. "It ain't fair!"
"Really? Is it fair for you to come to class, so unprepared and hopelessly unfamiliar on the subject. To waist my time, and that of your fellow classmates? You think that's fair?"
Smoke brushed a lock of hair from his face. "I poligize K? Now just let it go." Mrs. Starch bent down slowly, until she was staring right into Smoke's eyes. "Well what happened to our class comedian? Are you all out of jokes?"
"I guess."
"Well that's to bad. Because I expect 500 hilarious words, double spaced."
"No way!" Mrs. Starch positioned the pencil until it was even with the tip of his nose. "Way." She said.
Smoke let out a low growl, causing Nick and the other students to shiver slightly. "Get out of my face!" Smoke snapped. "Or else you'll be sorry!"
"Is that a threat, Duane?" Mrs. Starch asked, sounding totally unphased. "It ain't a threat. It's a fact."
"No. Here's a fact, Duane. You will, write a 500 word essay about pimples, and you will, read it aloud to all of us, or you will, fail this class, and have to take it again next year. Do I make myself clear?"
Smoke stared down the shaft of the yellow pencil, a calculating look in his eyes. "I guess." He spat. Then he calmly chomped the pencil in half, chewed up the graphite along with the splinters, before swallowing the whole thing, with a satisfied smirk.
Mrs. Starch backed away, eyeing the remaining stump of wood in her fingers. No one else dared to move, except for Smoke, who shoved his book in a camo patterned backpack, before strutting out the door, leaving everyone completely stunned.
Chapter Text
Duane wasn't exactly sure how he ended up beside his bike in the student parking lot. He had completely zoned out as soon as he'd left the classroom, and allowed his body to guide him. The whole time, Mrs. Starch's words kept repeating themselves in his mind, despite him trying to forget them. "And here we thought you were just another dull lump with no talent and no future."
Duane let out a scream of frustration, kicking his motorcycle as hard as he could, which resulted in it falling over, and for a sharp stab of pain to go through his foot. Cursing, he lifted his bike and straddled it, rubbing at his abused limb. He really hoped it wasn't broken. The last thing he needed was to be unable to ride home, and being caught skipping by someone. He slowly moved his foot, biting his lip at the pain he felt. Fortunately for him, it didn't seem to be broken. Bruised as all hell maybe, but he could at least get away from the school in one peace.
With a sigh, Duane pulled on his leather gloves, deciding to forgo the Helmut this time. He wanted to be reckless right now; using the thrill of the ride to forget about his shitty problems for a while. If he were to get stopped, well what was one more thing on his record?
Sliding his key into the ignition, he hesitated, looking up at the building. It was the usual debate he had with himself every time he skipped school. His mind would try to give him every reason why he shouldn't, and he'd shut them down pretty quickly, until it had nothing else to say. The same was happening now, though his patience was running thin already.
"What would your father say?"
Duane gritted his teeth, his grip tightening on the handlebars of the bike.
"My old man doesn't give a fuck about what I do. He never does any more."
"What about your grandmother?"
"I don't even know when she's coming. Plus, all she'll do is throw money at the school."
"Your mom..."
"No!" He hissed out, shutting down that thought before it could fully form. With a twist of his wrist, the bike came to life, the roar of the engine helping to distract him.
Another thing that helped was the sight of the front doors opening, and a group of students poured out. Duane cursed, not realizing just how long he'd been contemplating staying or leaving. It would be harder to leave now that the lacrosse team had come out to practice. He wondered what would happen if he were to just drive off. It wasn't as though anyone would say anything about it.
He placed his foot on the throttle, ready to do just that, when he saw someone a few yards away. Fucking Nick Waters. The gorgeous son of a bitch who'd been on his mind for months now. The same boy who surprisingly didn't take the chance to pick on him when it had been offered on a silver platter. Though, that my be explained by the fact that everyone was afraid of him. For some reason, that thought didn't settle well with him. For some reason, he didn't like the idea of Nick being scared of him.
Lost in his thoughts, Duane didn't notice Nick had spotted him until He started walking toward him slowly, an air of unease surrounding him. His eyes widened slightly, and he tried to school his expression into its usual mask of disinterest.
"Hey Waters. You need something?"
Nick came to a stop a few feet away, his gaze fixed on the ground.
"Are you leaving?" The boy asked, and Duane huffed, the fingers of his hand drumming against the handlebars.
"Yeah, I am. Had enough of' school for one day."
Nick slowly lifted his gaze, and Duane had to stop himself from getting lost in those eyes, which were so expressive. It was so easy to read Nick's emotions. All you had to do was take one look at his eyes. Duane could see clearly the slight fear of him, but also... worry? "Are you okay?"
Duane could only stare at that, completely forgetting his act of disinterest. For a moment, he wasn't even sure those words had actually been said, but the way Nick was biting his lip and fidgeting, as though expecting to be made fun of for something, only proved it had actually happened, and he wasn't sure how to react.
He must've been quiet for too long, because Nick was slowly backing away, his expression a mix of fear and disappointment. He opened his mouth to say something, no doubt some sort of apology, but Duane held up a hand, motioning him to come back. After a few seconds, Nick approached again, though he was still hesitant, something Duane really hated seeing on him.
"Depends on what you mean by okay," Duane finally said, kicking at the ground with his non-injured foot.
Nick frowned slightly, motioning back to the school with a tilt of his head.
Duane scoffed, turning his head toward the parking lot exit.
"I'm fine, Waters. Mrs. Starch isn't the first teacher to give me an unfair assignment. Hell knows she won't be the last either."
Nick scowled at that, and Duane couldn't help but think it looked cute.
"It doesn't matter if she's not the first, Smoke! The point is, she was too brutal, even for Mrs. Starch. I mean, 500 words about zits? That's messed up! I mean, I forgot my biology book in my locker today, and she didn't pick on me like she did you. She just brought me into your humiliation, which was even more not cool!"
Duane leaned back slightly, a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips at Nick's little rant. It only proved that Nick was far too good for this world, having a sense for right and wrong already. Although seeing who his old man was, he couldn't say he was surprised. It also meant that Duane really shouldn't be thinking of pursuing him, but he also wasn't known for his good choices. After all, the risk was only part of the fun. Once Nick was done with his little rant, Duane smirked at him, his hands clasped together.
"Well, well. I never thought I'd see the day where someone like you would be so protective over the resident delinquent. I'm truly flattered, Waters."
As expected, Nick flushed at that, though he kept his head up, the defiant glint still present in those eyes.
"I'm defending you because it just isn't right, Smoke. Everything about this "assignment" isn't right."
Duane sighed, placing a gloved hand on the other boy's shoulder, watching as a slight blush dusted his pale skin.
"Relax, Waters," He said. "Like I said, it's fine. I'll do the stupid essay, read it aloud to everyone, and get her off my back. There ain't nothing we can do about it now."
Nick sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. He seemed defeated, and Duane smiled slightly, something he never did any more."
"Really, though Waters, I appreciate the defence. You're the only one who'd do that, and I'm surprised even you did."
"You're still leaving though," Nick said, eyeing the bike which was still on.
Duane shrugged, staring out across the lot.
"Yeah, I am. Afraid I don't yet like you enough to stay. Besides, I need to cool down."
Nick nodded, stepping back slightly. Duane revved up his engine once again, slowly starting to back up. Before he could speed out of campus, Nick spoke up again.
"Will I see you tomorrow for the trip?"
Duane cursed silently, having had completely forgotten about the field trip. Looking at Nick, Duane could see a hint of hope in his expression, and he sighed.
"We'll see," He said. "I ain't gonna lie to you, there's a chance I won't show up."
A sudden idea came to him, and he grabbed Nick's wrist, who immediately looked up at him in surprise. Pushing back the thoughts telling him he was being stupid, Duane reached into his jacket pocket, and pulled out a pen. Quickly writing down his number on Nick's skin.
"Text me, Waters. Maybe I'll see you tomorrow." Then, before Nick could respond, Duane pressed on the throttle, speeding away from the school, and the gorgeous boy who could end up being the death of him.
Toast_with_Condensed_Milk on Chapter 1 Thu 10 Nov 2022 09:15PM UTC
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ONYX_TWILIGHT on Chapter 1 Thu 04 Apr 2024 12:20AM UTC
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B4SIL_Kinnie on Chapter 1 Sun 25 May 2025 08:04PM UTC
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zeebzib on Chapter 2 Sun 09 Mar 2025 01:25AM UTC
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ONYX_TWILIGHT on Chapter 2 Sun 09 Mar 2025 01:58AM UTC
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