Felix wears a loose, dark hoodie. The hood pulled over his head hides his messy hair, so dark it looks almost black. His freckled face could easily pass for that of a teenager, and in many ways, he still is, at least biologically. But his youth left his body a long time ago, and innocence slipped away down the shower drain with the ash of a cigarette.

“It’s good stuff,” he promises, dangling a small plastic bag with white powder, holding the corner between his thumb and index finger. “Not the crap they sell at the park. This is quality. Adult stuff.”

The sun is hot, burning his skin. Summer is in full swing, and everyone is looking forward to the Christmas holidays to spend a few days at the beach. Some are heading for exotic destinations, others are staying in Sydney, some will decorate trees, and others will spend all their free time on a surfboard. Felix doesn’t belong to any of these groups.

In his family, they don’t celebrate anymore, and he’s too busy to care about things like playing on the beach or diving off cliffs into the sea.

“Where’d you get it?”

The boy he’s dealing with is Steven, a fifth-year student. Of course, if you count all the years Steven has spent at that school, it would be more accurate to call him an eighth-year student, but apparently, failing doesn’t count.

Steven is tall, skinny, his face full of pimples, and his bleached hair stands straight up like spaghetti. He’s never been the brightest and doesn’t stand out for his intelligence, but at least he’s not one of those annoying goody-goodies who always raise their hand in class and spend their afternoons at the chess club. Steven is "all right." And by “all right,” he means he’s a half-assed thug, bully, and smells bad.

“I’ve got my suppliers,” Felix says, then closes the bag in the palm of his hand. “Thirty bucks. Take it or leave it.”

Steven bites his lower lip, unsure. Meanwhile, a few yards away on the field, the second-year kids are playing a volleyball match. The crowd’s cheers and the referee’s whistle provide the soundtrack, and some birds are chirping hidden among the trees. The world is full of life, colorful, vibrant. Felix should be in the bleachers with his classmates, mocking the worst players and cheering for the best ones. He shouldn’t be dealing the stuff he stole from his father’s pockets within the school walls.

“Deal,” Steven says finally, overcoming his indecision. He hands Felix two bills, which he stuffs in his back pocket, then gives Steven the bag, who pockets it.

Felix doesn’t feel responsible. Even though deep down he knows he’s not that different from the dealers who ruined his life, throwing his parents into the jaws of addiction, he doesn’t feel any responsibility toward Steven. If the same thing happened to him, he wouldn’t care. In fact, he kind of wants it. Why does it have to be just him who suffers? Why do others get their damn perfect lives while his falls apart?

If he has to watch his parents die from poisoning, then he’ll be the one handing out the poison to anyone willing to take a sip.

Thoughts like these shouldn’t cross the mind of a seventeen-year-old.

But they do.

Steven is about to leave when a voice freezes both boys. “Not so fast.”

They look up.

Standing at the second-floor window is their biology teacher, Goodwill. Felix’s first instinct is to run, and he sees the same urgency in Steven’s eyes, but also the same indecision. Where would they run? If the teacher saw them, there’s little they can do.

“Fuck,” Felix mutters, kicking a rock.

Half an hour later, they’re both sitting in the principal’s office. They’ve both been handed a ten-day suspension slip, but of course, the torture couldn’t end there. Of course not.

Professor Goodwill stands with his arms crossed over his chest, while Principal Church examines the small bag of cocaine sitting on his desk. “Where did you get this?”

Felix bites the inside of his cheek. “I found it.”

The principal takes a deep breath, clearly frustrated. It’s obvious he’d rather be dealing with something else, and the closer it gets to the end of the school day, the more urgent his desire to finish up becomes. Maybe he wants to go home. Felix wonders what kind of life Principal Church leads outside of that office. Maybe his wife dresses up as a maid and gets fucked on the same table they’ve set for dinner.

Felix feels his excitement tighten and curses himself.

Damn teenage hormonal storm.

“What you did — no, what you both did, is a crime. We could report you, you could end up in a reform school. So don’t try to play me for a fool. I’m on your side, guys,” the principal says, calm and relaxed, as if they hadn’t just been caught dealing and buying drugs. “Where did you get this, Felix?”

“I told you. I found it.”

“You don’t just find a bag of cocaine on the street,” he warns.

“What’s it to me if he’s not as lucky as I am?”

Principal Church and Professor Goodwill exchange a glance. Then Goodwill steps toward Steven and places a hand on his shoulder. “Come with me, let’s go to the teacher’s lounge. We’ll discuss what happened on our own.”

Steven stiffens for a moment but then stands up. “Wait,” he says to the professor, then turns to Felix. “My thirty bucks,” he says.

Felix raises an eyebrow. “What?”

“My money — I didn’t get the stuff,” he insists.

“Are you serious?”

“Give it to him,” Goodwill says immediately. “Give him the money, Felix.”

Felix mutters a curse and pulls the bills from his pocket. He slaps them into Steven’s open palm and glares at him with a look that promises nothing good. Steven pockets the bills, and then he and Goodwill leave the room.

The door closes behind Felix. Now he’s alone with Principal Church.

“Dealing is serious, Felix. Really serious. The protocol says we should report you. You know that, right?”

Felix remains silent. He doesn’t know what this old asshole wants from him. His supposed benevolence for not reporting him? Like he cares.

Principal Church sees that Felix remains silent and sighs deeply.

“Are you in with a bad crowd? Is someone forcing you to do this? What have they threatened you with? Give me a name, and I might be able to help.”

Felix snorts, amused. He looks up at the principal and stands up from his chair. “God, wouldn’t it be nice if that were the case? If some asshole was threatening me and forcing me to deal for him, it’d be a real blessing. You want to know the truth, Principal Church?”

The principal looks surprised. In thirty years of teaching, no student has stood up, planted their hands on his desk, and looked at him with such a defiant expression.

“I stole it from my father. Yeah, my father’s a drug addict. And an alcoholic. A real sad story, right?”

Principal Church’s mouth falls open. He’s about to say something, but Felix keeps talking: “If you’re thinking about how hard my mom’s life must be, stop worrying. She’s a junkie too. Maybe even worse than my father”

Church blinks twice, stammers something, but Felix speaks again: “Two years ago, my stepdad had a bad psychotic episode after he did crack, coke, and vodka. He made a hell of a mess, and the neighbors called the cops. The cops called the social workers. They did fuck all, if you’re wondering, so scratch that option off your list.”

Felix reaches across the desk and grabs the bag of cocaine back. The principal, dumbfounded, stands up. “No!”

“Or what? Call the cops? Have me arrested? Go ahead. My life can’t get any worse.”

Felix shoves the bag into the pocket of his hoodie and, without sparing the principal another glance, walks across his office. He exits into the hallway as the bell rings. Waves of students spill out of classrooms, and Felix walks among them, going with the flow. 

He hears Principal Church shout his name. 

The voice is swallowed by the dozens of other voices.