Breathe Me

A New Vice

"I'm sorry, did you say something?"

I quickly looked up and stared at the kid sitting next to me. Making quick once-over, I came to realize that my new partner was either an athlete or had a strong obsession with workout attire. I also concluded that he was most likely not a pothead or a smoker of any sort as he smelled clean, as far as boys go anyway, and the whites of his eyes were clear of the red that consumed about half the student body here. Instead, you could see his eyes for what they were, a golden brown, much like that of his tousled hair.

"Hello?" he asked slowly, starting to look confused.

"What? Oh, no. No, I uh- I didn't say anything," I managed, trying to make up for my rude staring while not trying to give off the impression that I was looking for a conversation or a lifelong companion.

But, with the break in Ms. Keegan's speech to hand out the syllabus, this kid had plenty of time to pursue talking.

"As you've probably figured out by now, I'm new here and I don't know a single soul at this school. I'm crap with names, but as you're the first person I've had the chance to meet, I know I won't have any trouble remembering yours?"

It was really more of a statement than a question, but I could tell the way his voice went up every so slightly at the end that this was his indirect way of asking me what my name was. Typical. Nevertheless, I replied, "Dani."

"I like that. Nice to meet you, Dani," he flashed a smile, revealing perfectly white teeth- another good sign that he probably didn't smoke. Either that or this kid bought white strips by the box.

He shook my hand and held it in his rough, callus-y hands. Formal, polite, and doesn't have a smoking issue. I was running out of reasons to get away from this guy. At this point he had held on to the handshake just a second too long and I found myself pulling my hand away gently, resuming the grip I had held on my arm. But he was still looking back at me, making me question if he could hear the thoughts running through my head and once again I was reminded why I preferred to be alone. He was probably secretly judging me in that pretty little head of his; the thought of it made me want to barf.

"This is the part where you say,"Do you have a first name, Mr. Vice?""

I drew my glance away from my feet and back to his face. Was this kid serious?

"Oh, c'mon, humor me."

It was an innocent smile he gave, but it was about one level of pushiness away from a smirk and I wasn't in the mood to put up with that. Still, it was an innocent smile and I barely knew the guy well enough to place some judgement on his motive in all of this, so I decided to play along. "Do you have a first name, Mr. Vice?" I mimicked, smirking at the end for good measure; a smirk almost to the point where it was cocky, much like the one I'd despise him for dishing, but enough of a smirk to let him know that I wasn't about to be played by any games. This kid had one shot that would determine if I would ever speak to him again. His reaction would be the determinator. Once again, he failed to give me a reason to hate him.

"Thank you," he smiled, clearly getting off on my teasing. "And yes, I do. I'm Asher, and I am very pleased to be sharing this glorious table in eighth period with you."

And with that, I mentally slapped myself. Why couldn't he be a normal teenager and smoke or something?

There are two types of people in this world: those who thrive on doing the unexpected, and those who prefer to skip the spontaneous phase of life that is high school and college, and instead stick to the same daily routine that keeps them in their comfort zone. Very few people fall somewhere in-between, and that's because we are human; and, no matter how much we like to preach that balance is good and healthy, we all fall into an extreme group where we feel like we belong, and then label ourselves as such, even though we joined a campaign preaching labels are bad (Yay for being a part of the anti-label group! Go, anti-labelers!).