Page 96 of Two Marlboros

“No wonder you can’t study if you’re always doing this.”

His head slumped over the pile of handouts and the highlighters landed on the table.

“I don’t feel like it! Oof.”

“Come on, open that stuff and tell me what you need to study.”

He turned his head toward me, still leaning against the pile. “Everything, unfortunately. I’ll never make it.”

I waited for him to stop whining and do something to start his study session, but to no avail; I then slipped a handout out from under his head, which fell onto the papers below.

“Ouch!”

I ignored him and looked at what he had to study. “Plastics. Sounds interesting.”

“Not when you have to memorize chemical bonds!”

I quickly flipped through the handouts, which only had five or six of the much infamous chemical bonds.

“So much fuss over four little drawings. Alright, let’s see: could you give me a definition of ‘plastics’?”

He shrugged his head from the stack of paper, and I thought he was getting serious.

“Yes: stuff to burn.”

I decided to try the cruelty card: I slammed the handouts on the table and gave him the most menacing look I was capable of. Judging by the seriousness of his expression, I had the impression that I had hit the jackpot. I extended a hand toward him.

“Come on, give me the cigarettes. And if you don’t, I’ll take them.”

“I don’t have them, I swear!”

A “Don’t make me frisk you” was about to come out, but I imagined the scene, my hands on his body, inside his pants pockets.

“I swear, I really don’t have them. I switched to drums.”

I withdrew my arm. “To what?”

He bent over the bag again, and I thought it was yet another waste of time. He pulled out a small bag full of little white cylinders, along with two other packages.

Nathan opened the larger one and handed it to me.

“Tobacco. It’s cheaper and there’s less junk. Cool, isn’t it? I’ll show you how to make it later.”

I realized that the bag contained the filters and the other packet contained the papers. I sequestered everything and placed it in the chair next to mine so that he couldn’t get to it.

“One hour of study in exchange for that stuff,” I proposed.

Nathan’s eyes widened, and I marveled once again at how funny some of his expressions were. As always, when it came to smoking, he seemed on the verge of despair.

“Half an hour.”

“Three quarters of an hour,” I retorted.

“Forty minutes.”

I thought about it for a moment, then agreed.

“Let’s try again: what are ‘plastics’?”

---