You sat underneath the bleachers. The cool April winds combed through your hair. You listened to music on your walkman, however, you wouldn’t have been able to guess that a boy, seemingly older than you, came over, also listening to music. He kicked some dirt your way, but you recognized this kid. He was the infamous heartbreaker, the schools teenage dirtbag.

He had greasy black hair, wore skinny jeans and a large leather jacket. He got under the bleachers beside you, “You got a cig?”