Chapter Text
"I hate you!"
The words rang in her head like a siren. As Pencil walked her usual distance from school, she kicked the rocks under her feet as her vision blurred with tears. She reached for her pocket and pulled out a cigarette, leaning against a wall in a narrow alleyway and placing it between two of her teeth. She pulled a lighter from her handbag and used one hand to light it. She used the other to shield the flame from the wind.
She didn't even care what Book thought of her anymore. She didn't need her. She didn't need any of her friends. They had been non-stop since she came back to school, so it's not Pencil's fault she snapped. And lucky for them, she wouldn't be around much longer. So they could hate her all they wanted.
She felt the warm smoke fill her mouth, and she parted her lips to release the smoke in a gentle exhale. The nicotine rushed to her head. Her brain stopped thinking for once. She tossed her bleached hair behind her ears with a smooth swish so it wouldn't catch on fire from the lit cigarette.
None of them even cared she stopped going to school for a few months. None of them asked her where she had been. Maybe they didn't care, maybe they were scared of her. She hoped it was the latter. All they had done was have a go at her for 'being rude' or telling her she 'needed to apologise', albeit sheepishly and hesitantly. Except for Match. Pencil had been avoiding her like a wildfire, knowing she had been a mess and not wanting Match to see her like this. But that's what going to juvie does to you. Especially when there's a miscommunication about how long you spend in solitary.
It was supposed to be one week in solitary confinement. It ended up being seven.
Seven weeks. Alone.
She'd been offered compensation and therapy. She had received too many apologies to count. But it couldn't undo the damage the isolation had done to her. And it's not like she didn't suffer any abuse from the guards she was stuck with. The lasting bruise on her chest was evidence.
Pencil wore a pink, long sleeve jacket, despite it being the middle of summer. Her hair was cut short, and she bleached it as soon as she got out. She used to have long hair, but after losing the motivation to take care of it, she chopped it off. Because of this, she also never dyed her roots again, so the dark brown of her natural hair peeked out from her scalp. She had black, juicy catoure pants which she had shoplifted a couple days ago.
She knew she was rude, and she hasn't been the best friend even before juvie, but Book couldn't hate her, right? Then again, she seemed pretty adamant... And she couldn't blame her. If she was treated the way she spoke to others, she would hate herself too. She did, hate herself, anyway. Did anyone actually like her? Even Match probably didn't after having so much time away from her.
Would anyone care if she died? Pencil knew she sure as hell wouldn't. It would just make everything easier for her. Then she wouldn't have to deal with the nightmares, the people, and the empty sadness that consumed her everyday. If she was being honest, she had it all planned out. After school today. She wouldn't come home for the night, which her parents were already used to, and she'd brung a rope in her backpack. There was a forest, where no one would find her for a few days, which was only an hour walk from her high school...
"Hey," a voice snapped her out of her thoughts. It was a thirty-or-so old looking woman, with blue hair and a calming voice. Her face was a little scrappy, with small scratches and smudged makeup. "You look way too young to be that sad."
Pencil looked up hesitantly and furrowed her brows. "It's none of your business."
The woman just chuckled softly. "I'm just curious. Maybe I can help you."
Pencil stared at the ground, using two fingers to take the cigarette out of her mouth as she exhaled softly. She looked up at her without moving her head. "What's it to you, huh? Who- Who even are you?"
"Come on, you look awfully sad. What's the matter? Is it parents? Friendships? Eating disorders? Are you cutting yourself?"
"Excuse you?" Pencil barked, crossing her arms over herself. "You can't just-!"
"I don’t know what kids these days struggle with, but I just said. I might be able to help you. What's your name?"
She chewed her lip, before muttering quietly, "Pencil."
"Well, Pencil, it seems you're a little rebellious, huh? You're smoking, and you're what, fourteen, thirteen?"
"I'm seventeen."
"Pshh, same thing," the woman dismissed with a wave of her hand. "How would you like to feel happy? Forget everything for a while, huh?"
"I mean, uh, sounds… Look, just get to the point! How can you help me?"
"You see," she began as she pulled out a little plastic bag from her scuffed jean pocket. It was filled with some kind of white powder. "Just a little bit of this can make all your problems go away for a while. You'll finally feel free."
Pencil stared at it. She swallowed quietly, before opening her mouth. "Is that cocaine?"
"Depends. Are you a cop?"
"No," she mumbled sheepishly. She took in the bag with her eyes for a few minutes more. "I don't have any money on me."
"That's fine! Take this one for free, yeah? But you owe me later." She held out the ziplock bag towards her.
Pencil gawked at it for a couple seconds.
"You never have to touch it again if it doesn't work," she smiled.
A minute passed.
"Come on," the woman sighed, putting the bag under her sleeve. "Quickly then. Or someone will see."
Her eyes darted from the woman, to the floor, to her hands, and back to the woman. She huffed and held her hand out. The bag slipped from under the woman's sleeve up Pencil's own pink sleeve.
"Hey, next time, it's gonna cost you, okay?"
"Next time?" Pencil looked up at her through her eyelashes.
"Only if you want a next time. Here, have my number." The woman took her phone and unlocked it with scary ease. Before she could say anything about it, the phone was back in her hand.
She stared at the contact name. "...One? What's that supposed to mean?"
"That's what they call me. One."
"One. ...Huh."
One smiled sweetly at Pencil, before beginning to turn on her heel. "Well, Pencil, enjoy. Feel free to text me if you need any more."
"Yeah."
"I can text you prices and stuff. Or you can block me and never talk to me again. Your choice."
"...Okay," she muttered hesitantly.
One sped off as quickly as she came. Pencil was left with the feeling of the plastic baggie cold against her wrist.
Pencil walked in the quieter streets. Maybe she could save it for tomorrow so she wouldn't have to deal with everyone.
As the sun began to set, and the air grew colder around her, she roamed a little park until she found a bench. She pulled out another cigarette and lit that too. The tarry smoke warmed her chest and gently billowed around her face as she breathed out. She eyed the people who walked by as the sky grew darker with eyes of jealousy and despair. They looked happy. Not necessarily happy, but without a lot to worry about. They didn't burden everyone around them with their pure existence, or ruin everyone's day whenever their mouth opened.
They didn't deserve to die, like she did.
But there was no point in doing it today with this 'magical crack cure' she had been promised. She should at least try it before she died.
As all the life from her cigarette faded, she pressed it out against her pink jacket and tossed the butt on the floor. She laid her head down on the bench and stared up at the sky.