Ashton wandered the halls that very next day. He passed the English classrooms, but his attention fluttered away from his favorite teacher.
All at once, as he walked, an overwhelming stench corrupted the air. Ashton grimaced, looking to his right and seeing a skittle-head, troublemaking boy. The pungent smell of cannabis filled his nose, and Ashton quickly sidestepped in avoidance. It was far different than the smell of alcohol that used to lace his father's lips.
Before Ashton could get far enough away, the boy spoke.
"Ashton Irwin, wait up." Why on earth would a lowlife druggie wish to speak to Ashton? Ashton could not help himself, for the urge to base his opinions on stereotypes was overwhelming.
Squinting, Ashton drifted to the side of the hallway. He desired to know what was going on, so he waited for the boy to catch up. Ashton avoided words. He didn't need to speak to someone inferior to him.
"Hemmings told me to give this to you."
It was a letter. A letter folded neatly in the boy's hand. It was a letter from Luke to Ashton. There was no doubt it was personal, so why would Luke use him as his messenger?
Ashton snatched the letter, looking into those green eyes. He remembered the douche faintly. Hell, Ashton even recalled writing about the boy in one of his angry letters. Those eyes were filled with kindness.
"Did you read it?" Ashton asked accusingly. He felt as if he already knew the answer. Of course, someone like him would have read it.
"It's for you, dude. It's none of my business what goes on between the two of you." It was genuine. The dude's hand stayed still as it offered the letter, and his voice never fluctuated from the truth.
Then the reality sunk in.
What goes on between the two of you.
"The fuck is that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing, Irwin. Nothing that is worth getting the cops involved. Fuck the government. Fuck the system. Make love, not war." The pothead snickered, "I know nothing."
Ashton was all but confused.
"After all, I know nothing. All my brain cells are dying from substance abuse! My brain is melting, Irwin. So just take this letter that means absolutely nothing." Sarcasm dripped from his mouth as he chuckled.
Ashton took the note, dumbfounded after what he had witnessed.
Dear Ashton,
Hopefully, I have gotten your attention. Don't worry, Michael is my most reliable student. I just need to be more secure about the notes, and I have known him for two years. Long enough to build a mutual trust regarding secrets.
Anyway, since our conversation went uncompleted yesterday, I figured you could join me next hour. I will be awaiting conversation with you. I trust you know which classroom is mine by now. After all, you make sure to pass it before every class.
Ashton shivered, ripping the note apart and throwing it in the nearest receptacle.
"Thank yo—" Ashton began, but silenced after realizing the pothead was nowhere to be seen. He bit back his genuine gratitude and saved it for another time; he was eager for the new task at hand.