𝟎𝟏
–where there's smoke, there's fire

     LARA WATKINS COULD SAY FOR CERTAIN THAT SHE HAD met monsters. But contrary to popular belief, they weren't aliens obsessed with ending the world, or dark creatures that hid in closets. They weren't fur stretched over thick muscle, but rather skin that could be cut and bones that could be broken.

Humans.

Mankind was cruel, ruthless and greedy, and Lara Watkins was no exception.

With molten eyes and a smile made for war, she was perched on her throne besides her two friends, Noemi Quinn and Wilma Joyce. All three believed themselves to be gods that graced through the school halls, yet when they bled, it wasn't golden ichor that flowed from their veins, but the crimson blood of mortals.

Lara was coming to to terms with that, but sooner was better than later because her throne, once beautiful and magnificent, had shown it's true self as being made of nothing more than playing cards, and she had been dealt a bad hand.

Lara fell from her pedestal at the top of the social ladder, falling, falling, falling, thump. She hit her head and bruised her soul; another burnout teen that had hit rock bottom.

Turning to drugs, alcohol and partying as a coping mechanism, Lara found herself at the back of her school with a view of the sports field– a small patch of grass barely bigger than the school itself. Next to her was the one and only Marcus Baker, who was stealing her stash of weed.

"Leech," she muttered, watching tendrils of smoke leave his lips.

Marcus frowned. His eyebrows drew together the way they always did, deepening the creases in his skin. The sun shone through his dark hair, leaving the strands glowing gold, like they were a halo made of sunshine and hope and dreams. Marcus Baker looked like an angel.

Lara shook herself. God, she was so high.

"What do you mean?" He asked, taking another drag of her joint.

"You're constantly smoking my stash," she said. "Don't you have your own one?"

It took Marcus a moment for him to answer. He sat there, watching the smoke float up, up, up into the sky, the clouds, the heavens– some place where the cruel touch of humanity couldn't reach it. "My mom found my one," he said.

Lara didn't think that deserved an answer, so she stayed silent. She crossed her legs beneath her; dewy grass tickled her skin through the rips in her jeans.

"I got a new neighbour," he added. "She's hot."

Lara giggled. Her laugh was rich and bell-like. She didn't know why she found that so amusing– probably a combination of weed and teenage immaturity.

"I wonder what Padma would think of that?" She teased, arching her brow.

But that was the wrong thing to say. He frowned again, and his jaw tensed, and his eyes darkened. The sun no longer made his hair look like a halo, and she had crossed a line.

"I don't think you should be giving me relationship advice, after you broke my sister's heart," he snapped, his words dragging like a knife across her spine.

"If I broke your sister's heart, then why are you hanging out with me?" She asked, voice bitter and full of resentment. In just a few words, they had destroyed the playful mood. They're walls went up, their hearts became shields and tongues turned into battling swords.

"Because you have good weed."

Then he got up and left, and Lara was left with a plume of smoke where he once stood.

×××

Here's a little tip: if you ever have a chance to be high as a kite in Mr. Gitten's AP English class, with your ex-girlfriend just a few desks away, don't.

If looks could kill, Lara was certain that she'd be six feet under with the ferocity of Maxine Baker's venomous glare. She tried not to show it bothered her, but it was hard not to tense up when you could feel the heartache and betrayal rolling off someone in waves. It was all Lara could do not to drown in it.

"Welcome back, AP English," Mr. Gitten said. His bald head shined, like he had just polished it. "Hiding in the back there, you will find our new student, Virginia Miller. I trust you will make her feel welcome."

"It's Ginny," the girl corrected. Mr. Gitten ignored her.

"Now, I know it's our first day back from summer vacation, but I thought it was an excellent opportunity for a pop quiz." Lara cursed under her breath. "Those who didn't do the summer reading, The Crucible, are in for a world of pain." Lara cursed again.

She had meant to read it, but the whole summer had been a blur of alcohol and self loathing, and reading a stupid book hadn't made the top fifty in her list of problems.

"Uh, don't worry Virginia, I don't expect you to have read it," he said to the new girl.

Lara glanced at her, and saw the anger on her face twist into a sarcastic smile as she raised her hand.

"Yes, you have a question?" He prompted.

Ginny looked at a sheet in her hands, furrowing her brows as she pretended to think hard. "There are sixteen books on this syllabus," she stated.

"Yes, like I said, you can always move down t–"

"Fourteen of them were written by men, fifteen were written by white people, and I'm willing to make a guess that the one black author will come up just in time for Black History Month." She arched a brow in a silent dare. "Am I right?"

Anger didn't look good on anyone, especially Mr. Gitten. He gave her a glare so sharp it could've rivalled Maxine's. "Excuse me?" He asked, appalled at the very clear insinuation Ginny was making.

She leaned back in her chair and folded her arms across her chest, a spark of triumph warming her brown eyes. "I'm very serious about my education, Mr. Gitten. I'm worried that I might internalize an ideology that the main viewpoint, the viewpoint worth studying in class, the viewpoint of the greats, is only that of the white male, thus eradicating my voice as immaterial." The class snickered as Mr. Gitten's face turned beet red from a combination of embarrassment and anger. "Also, I have read The Crucible, and I'm confident I can take the quiz today," Ginny added, a shit-eating grin on her face.

"Are you through, Virginia?" Mr. Gitten hissed through clenched teeth.

"No." She put her chin in the palm of her hand, a dazzling smile on her face. "Please call me Ginny." A few students chuckled, and even Lara couldn't fight back a smile.

"Well," Mr. Gitten huffed, "I don't know how things were done in your last school, Ginny, but here, we don't appreciate political outbursts and grandstanding at the expense of your peers' class time!"

Lara scoffed. "The First Amendment is a thing for a reason, sir." She cocked her head to the side, unable to keep herself from stirring the pot. "Are you saying that our school doesn't allow students to express freedom of speech?"

She swore she saw angry steam coming from Mr. Gitten's ears.

"Lara, if you feel the need to interrupt valuable classtime, then you can do so in the principal's office."

She shrugged, not at all fazed by the threat. "You're just pissed because you know she's right."

The anger in Mr. Gitten reached a boiling point, and then she saw him snap and freeze over with the sardonic smile he painted on his lips. "Well then, that's something to think about on your trip to the principal."

"Whatever," she said, grabbing her bag and stalking out the classroom. Satisfaction rolled over her when the door slammed behind her.

Then, instead of going right to the principal's office, she took a sharp left, in the direction of Wellston High School's exit.

A/N: finally got around to publishing this! sorry about the wait, and i'm sorry it's pretty short.

–A.C