Things have not been looking up, in the fields of saving Jackie from immediate adolescent trauma and also in the minefield which has now become Clay's unguarded relationship with Rommery.

The last chemistry lab was escalated to Monday without further notice since the Principal suddenly had a brainwave which included tearing the south board wall and increasing a bit more foot space.

Like my mother, I don't promote unscheduled changes.

"You know they have been at it." Giggle Pastry on the halfway mark through the class. I divided my attention from the bickering Bunsen burner to cast an ear at their conversation.

"Really?"
"Yea. What are you blind?"
"When and where?"
"Friday. The hallway past the debaters forum."

Originally, I had no idea who Pastry was talking about but the intuition started its busy buzzing when the debate hallway got involved.

"Seriously? Rommery and Clarance?"

I fill a biker with tap water and try to catch a reflection of the whisperers to check their authenticity.

Unlike Jackie's window panes, water is a bad medium for indulging in mirror image.

"Ooo! Nerd on nerd! That's gotta be a thing."
"Yea. Someone should make a porno about it."

Their snickering laughter sounded the Submarine alarm of a depth charge, exploding through the perfectly planned simulations of our joined teenage hood.

It's an understatement to say that the break-in of Jackie's house had seen an unfortunate end even though Kenny and Harvey was hugely benefited by such a schism. I have earned their respect as well as street cred since some boy from upper class with a hideous haircut (a distinct relic of his coolness) threw me a respectful stink eye.

They sat with me in Biology instead of Clay and in the periods of lunch, Harvey even went the distance of bullying the weak to get me a few extra chocolate pudding.

As well as a cigarette.

I refused the latter. This is no time for achieving adolescent addictions of my own.

Jackie's parents were somehow informed that it was one of us who tried to destroy their house through picketing of small, goat poop sized pebbles. It's a mystery how they knew it but having Harvey around and his gloating mouth which suffers from exaggerating everything, it was not much of a surprise.

Lisaa, Jackie's mom, drops him off every morning and like a gene, appears on the parking lot with the sacred looking Volkswagen before the lunch bell can scream out in freedom.

I spied the enemy through second story pothole. Lisa seems to be extremely picky about what she eats because even the dull looking salad was poked a thousand times during the half an hour break.

This is one of the signs that Lisa is currently seeing someone else because no one goes through the trouble of looking exceptionally attractive on the 18th year of their marriage.

I nonchalantly asked my mother about the possible signs of a marriage that is going down the loo and without looking, she answered that dad and her is doing just fine. This wasn't worrying or troublesome and even if it is, I don't have much time to spare.

The bell's deafening howl ends Advanced Mathematics which also draws a conclusion of my watch towards Kenny. He has been sweating through the past half an hour and praying to high heavens that our teacher doesn't have the sudden impulse to date a quick quiz test.

Fortunately, the next class on the roster belongs to Mr. Flint, the social hanker who definitely is punching the keyboard furiously to see if he can finish an article in the next 4 minutes.

For the next 4 minutes, we can kill each other and no authority figure will notice.

I promptly use this opportunity to catch a puff of fresh air from the half broken Chemistry lab which is currently the ideal place for a meditative state because of the broken bobs of cement, dried walls, abandoned sledgehammers, drills.

The smelly existence of a destroyed world is a good berth for the birth of ideas.

I am still drawing multiple blanks on how to handle these problems with the appropriate efficiency. The secret weapon in the belt is Issac whom I can call but I still am not ready to use such a strong hand mainly because I don't want to portray myself as a spineless boy who cannot think on his feet.

There's an unusual need to impress him that I cannot really explain.

I squeeze through the dislodge double doors of Chemistry before glancing aggressively from side to side to spot anyone.

It's past 4 and the only people to expect tumbling down this side of lab in renovation, are escaping delinquents who have nowhere particularly important to be.

I kick the heavy pile of saw dust which desolates itself into the air, creating a dazzling wisp of white freckled stars in the mellow tuned sunlight.

I sigh heavily out of comfort to understand that this is a place truly crafted to work out emotions as well as solutions. Sincerely, anyone with a grocery list of worry on his mind such as me has the potential to find answers in this unholy ruin of chemicals.

I kneel down and take shelter behind a half propped, broken wooden table.

There's a distinct hint of HCl in the air. I accept it as an environmental substitute of candles.

After all, to become a Buddhist monk, one has to be deprived of materialistic desire and special condition.

I open my eyes to grant a left peak when the shuffle of feet hinder my introspection.

I find Jackie curled up in a ball, beside a bed of untouched cement sacks.

"Jackie?" I cough as my mouth fails to sound familiar.

Jackie's face is a pale white which has me wondering if he is losing blood or if all the white freckles in the air has been working as a suitable makeup.

This is the type of surprise that no one really expects.

"Hey." My voice is aggravated.

"Niek." He blurts out an inaudible word, similar to a turkey call which follows through with a loud swipe of his nose.

"Frey, hey." He snorts another bundle of cough and a loud slurp of snot slithers through his nasal vent like a slippery skinned snake.

I can see the aquas vitreal foaming a secondary layer over his eye lids.

Evidently, Jackie has been weeping long before I got here but I would not display this fact out loud because it works as a bulldozer to self esteem.

"What have you been up to here?" I inquire as I peak over the table to notice any spies or sharp eye teachers on the sly.

Anti climatically, there isn't.

"Um. . . nothing. At all. . ya."

I am questioning the very fact that Jackie might not be Albert and Moira's son because despite of having absolute tricksters as parents, he is not a bit keen in being clandestine.

I say this because he thinks I cannot spot the Delmar Red Cigarette packet which he is fumbling very conspicuously to stuff inside his jeans.

"Are you smoking?" I ask stupidly.

"What. . . no."
"Give them to me."
"Why?"
"Just hand them over."
"Frey, go away."
"What's wrong with you?"

I only realize that it was an incredibly insensitive thing to say.

I look at Jackie who is currently looking the part of a distressed youth who's soon to roll down the heavy, black hole of upsetting family interactions, let downs and other associated disappointments, eventually leading to something terribly destructive.

"Just fuck off!" He crumples the word under his teeth, ending his delivery in a less intimidating way.

My passive aggressiveness is starting to explode about its existence on the horizon.

"What the fuck is wrong with you? We need to get back to class." I kneel down to his weak bend to grab hold of his shirt's collar even though I thoroughly do not advocate of violence in terms of handling youthesque moments.

"Come on, we have to get to Social."

"I'm fucking social over!" The profanity proudly walks out of his mouth since he nailed the pronunciation as a pro debater perfectly delivers a bullet point.

In any other situation, like a baseball game scenario, I would proudly slap his shoulder for the presence of his blitz.

But now I'm stumped by the prospect of his character who's trying to mess up the course of his life, a formative period which will never be bought back.

Also, he doesn't understand the fact that you cannot copulate with a concept.

"And what? Stay here and sniff cement?"
"Don't try to be a smartass alright?" Jackie's swears are landing close to my sensible actions.

I'm losing momentum.

The cigarette packet on his hand flops to an open as the abundant fags slip out on his hand, by command.

Things are getting out of hand.

"Oh, wow, Jackie. Really? Cigarettes?"
"Well, they aren't lollies are they?"
"And how are they gonna help, huh? I'd like to know your magic plan."

There's a moment of calm in the air where the freckles of dust mites, half used cement particles hanging loose on the cusp of everything as the lighter wheel flicks a flame.

"Don't looks so fuckin' upset. You almost look like my mother."

This isn't a compliment.

"Besides, this isn't my first one. I already broke the lame cigarette virgin thing."

I'm momentarily broken on the presence of the choice, if I straightly punch him or break his bones first.

"You think this is gonna help you? Or anyone?"
"Well, Harvey dos' it and no one. . ."
"Harvey's a fuckin' prick, alright? And his parents don't give a rat's ass."
"And you think mine does?"
"Well, then why is she here every lunch?"
"Because she's gonna do something bad soon. . . it's just an act."

I can feel that I'm all out of child dazzling tricks since Jackie just said something that I have been thinking all along. After this, the cheap tricks of psychological support which is based on the mentality of 8 year old loses its gravity.

I sit down beside Jackie.

I give a stout trial of my mind to imagine what Issac would do in this situation but the train of thought gets derailed by Jackie's melancholic emotion.

"You think family's gonna help but they don't. No one does."
"That's not true. Dolorous loves you."
"She doesn't. She. . . obviously doesn't."
"That's hard to believe."
"She hasn't been writing. Recently."
"Just busy. . ,maybe."
"She finally understood the signals."

He crafts a giant puff before the sudden cancerous cough echoes through the dust.

"Possible broken home. You should hear my mother, talking to my aunt. It's fucking ridiculous!"
"She'll write back, Jackie."
"No, she won't."
"Alright, maybe not. But you see. . . I was on fuckin' point that night. We were so gonna screw over Hawthorne. . . that Pedo bastard. If it wasn't for Harvey. Don't worry. I'll get Harvey for this. He trusts me now. I'll lead him straight into a pop quiz. That'll teach him."

I give him a long look, a frail connection to strengthen the fact that the world is maybe turning its back on Jackie but I'm still rooting for him.

I manhandle the cigarette from his finger then I indulge myself in one little shot.

I am not enjoying this mainly because this is damage control.

"I know you're being a good friend and all. . ."
"That's a lie. I'm trying to be a good kid. I have lots to ask from Santa this Christmas."
"But whatever, Frey. . let me be. Mum's probably getting a divorce before Christmas. We should start a betting."
"Yeah, better make the best use of this occasion."

I stand up and lob the cigarette to its evil demise before smashing its fire on my sleeve.

"Wanna bet if we can make it before 'Flint the Miser'?"

I snatch the edge of his jacket as I pull him to his feet.

"Hand 'em to me." I gesture for the packet of cigarette which is still questionably sitting on Jacket's right grip of his palm.

He smirks as the leftover tears are thrown away from the vault of his eyes.

"And if Flint asks, I was in the restroom. You were doing whatever the fuck you were doing."