Ashtray

Autumn came as quickly as a flash. The school bullshit was about to start again soon. A lone object truly belonging to me—a “hard to take care of teen”—was a pack of cigarettes resting on the nightstand. I snatched it and packed “my” stuff for the brand new locker. 

Everything I “own” was bought for my eldest brother. Even the clothes I later “trashed”, according to my mom. 

“Adi, don’t forget your shoes!” my mama yelled from the wine cellar, rustling through the shelves. 

I rolled my eyes. “Can I at least have my own shoes, you witch?” murmuring between my gritting teeth.

The rustling stopped. And a few steps emerged from down below as I rushed to put on my brother’s old pair of sneakers. 

“I heard you, Devante Adrian Hale!” Her hearing is impeccable as always—yet I’m not scared of her empty threats. 

I am going to turn 18 in a few days, and I’ll leave this place. 

I rushed down the stairs, holding the old shoes in one hand and my backpack in the other. A creak. Then a strong smell of wine. 

“What is wrong with your brother’s shoes?” She leaned on the stair railing, watching me. “Do you really want a good night tonight?” 

I looked back, pulling out my cigarette pack as I threw the shoes on my feet. “Ain’t happening ‘ma.” I put one cigarette in my mouth and opened the door. “It’s either I sleep on the police officer’s doorstep, or at Zade’s.” I paused. “You can’t force me to do shit.” 

I slammed the door behind myself and lit my cigarette. 

The walk to school was as lonely as always. Zade lives across the town, and he has work in the morning. He’s like a brother to me; the only man I’ve felt close to me. 

All my older siblings have already left the country. And good for them. 

I pulled my pocket mirror out, staring at myself. I lit up the cigarette, shoving my earbuds into my ears. 

No one likes the music I’m  playing.

Sometimes it’s just me and my eyepatch, walking across the streets of the B. city. And other times it’s just sheer luck that I pass by Zade and he offers me a ride across the town. 

I usually sleep with him—we both lay on the mattress in his tiny apartment as he comforts me. I’m sorry I can’t even help him with anything at all. Sometimes my head doesn’t feel right with bothering Zade again, so I fall asleep underneath a bridge. Yet other times… 

A black car passes by and stops right in front of me. I recognise it—the driver is someone I truthfully despise. I glanced on the right. Oh! The police station. 

The car door opened, and the guy stared at me. Then handed me a smile. “Good morning, Devante.” That's what I thought he said. He waved and I’m pretty good at lip reading… 

I pulled my earbuds out. 

“Service day for donuts men?” I stared at his detective badge. Richard D. Johnson. “Sir, you’re a rare species around here.” 

He rolled his eyes, approaching me. Richard handed me a paper. “Once you turn 18, buddy. You deserve a better chance at life.” I peeked at the paper. 

“I’m half blind-“ he hushed me with his finger, then pointed at the paper. “Medical school? I don’t even know chemistry.” 

“Yet you cook meth and sell it.” I frown, grimacing as I glance straight into his eyes. “And you patch yourself quite well.” Richard gets closer. “How long will you cut yourself, then patch it up just so you’d stay alive… without thinking you can help others with it?” 

“If I’d be getting into any school further than a fucking cooking masterclass from the TV, I will never patch myself up again.” Yet he didn’t budge an inch at my threat. And so… Richard smiled and ruffled my hair, rushing to work as he checked his hand watch. 

.

I hate the college I attend. Although, I think it is better to hide in a stall than having my “little drunken secret” be found out by everyone. And crap… tomorrow’s my birthday. I checked my crappy phone, glancing at the hesitating messages. 

My phone still has buttons. I sigh, reading Zade’s bullshit. 

ZADE: coming to pick you up today xoxo 

ZADE: witch is drunk as hell !!! 

I smiled, wiping my nose with my grey and too large shirt.

DEVANTE: good. coming now or later? 

ZADE: calm yo hummus boy. i need to order food, ya bone n flesh. anyways cya later! 

DEVANTE: if i find a way to pay rent, can i live with youuuu? 

ZADE: probably. but how’s a methhead paying for rent? 

DEVANTE: either by slutting around either by yk what ;) anyways, i can’t resist in this hellhole anymoreeee…. pick me up from the park? 

I closed the phone after he texted me his “okayes”. Sliding off the toilet, I opened the door. I only held my backpack in one hand and the phone into the other. Yet there was a guy staring at the mirror, touching his eyes constantly. 

A slide to the right and a lame attempt to “ninja” my way out, the guy turned to me and smiled. He had something black smudged at his eyes. Does he also get beaten his shit up? Or is it just me? 

“Skipping too?” He smiled wildly, and I grimaced. Zade taught me to never spill out my plans. So I didn’t reply as the guy wanted. “I’m assuming yes… your eyepatch is weird tho, are you always wearing it?” 

“Travor JD.” That’s the name of the student id he’s been fluttering around in the search of air. “I don’t know. Are you always sized like a dwarf?” 

He pulled out a phone similar to mine. “Hang one dude… actually, I’m not in the mood for fights.” His phone buttons clicked. 

“Okay… Travor…” I mocked his name, then left the toilets. 

The door opened behind myself, yet I just shoved my earbuds in, walking towards the exit. I took a glance behind. The dwarf held its stuff, texting on that phone nonstop. 

But somehow, my legs gave up the chase. I stopped walking, and little Trev bumped into me. 

“Hey, dwarf…” I mumbled and looked at his shirt. Yet he only frowned, arranging his branded shirt. “I like that band too.” 

“Really!?” He got excited. “It’s my first day here, dude…” he whispered more to himself. “They poured milk on my Metallica shirt in the cafeteria and I had to swap with this one.” 

And “blah blah blah” until we arrived at the exit. 

“You’re dealing well with the spoiled milk smell.” I pause. “If I were you, I’d starve rather than eat that frozen pizza.” 

I want to leave… he’s talking too much. 

“Hey… what’s your name?” He quickly asked, grasping my wrist. 

“Devante.” I wiggle my wrist out of his clasp. “Some know me as the pirate, but that’s far from true.” Trevor smiled, and nodded.

“Can I have your phone number or MySpace?” He quickly asked. 

“Fuck no.” I rolled my eyes as I spoke hastily.