Cold Nights - 1. Chapter 1

“We’ll have a small acting troupe visiting our school and performing some short plays for us…” The English teacher began the last half of class.

Cole yawned and shifted in his seat, resting his face on his right palm, arm propped up on the table with his eyes heavy. It was so hard to stay awake! He really did try—he hated sleeping class, knowing it was rude, and then feeling stupid later when having to ask about something explained in class, but… he tried to force his green eyes open wider.

“We’ll be studying one of the plays in class, and I’ll be splitting you up into groups for different parts…” the teacher turned and began to write things on the board.

Cole squinted to focus, hoping the reading would keep his brain active enough to stay awake a while longer.

“It’ll be four or five people per group. Who wants to perform a small skit of the play for the class?”

A few hands from class rose, and Cole let out another massive yawn. The teacher listed off a few more groups; Cole realized he had yet to raise his hand when the last one was called.

“Now I need some people to do research on the time period—societal views, education, what was going on at the time…” the teacher waited for the last four to raise their hands.

Cole put a lazy arm up, barely raised at the front of the class, but he was counted. The teacher gave a few more instructions, giving them a brief two-day deadline for out of class work. Most of the kids complained, but Cole knew there wasn’t a lot to the project. They could do it in class given the time, which was probably the point of working on it outside of class. Plus, kids would start complaining soon that they didn’t have any group projects.

Cole flipped his shaggy blond hair out of his eyes and looked over his shoulder. A few kids seemed to be migrating his way now, which got him out of the embarrassment of having to ask around for his group. Moving seemed to help him perk up a little, and even though he didn’t need to, he moved back one desk.

The two girls in his group immediately started talking while another straggler approached from his far corner of the classroom. He was a slight kid, if Cole could guess. The clothes he wore seemed a little big on him, enough to hide how skinny he really was, but not enough to make him unshapely. Black hair fell into his eyes as he snuck in behind the girls, trying to go unnoticed.

Zeke, that was the kid’s name, Cole remembered. They had had a number of classes together over the past three years.

“When do you guys want to meet up?” Cole asked, looking pointedly at the two chattering girls.

“Whenever is fine,” one paused to answer but then immediately went back to telling about who cheated on who. Cole waited, staring and trying to make it obvious that he and Zeke were waiting on them, but the girls just went on. Giving up, Cole sighed and turned back to Zeke.

Cole had that feeling that he would be doing all the work in the group. He wasn’t a nerd or anything, but he tried, and hated it when things didn’t get done. Cole flipped through a packet of the play scenes, marking things. He glanced up to see Zeke leaning in and reading the packet upside down.

Cole turned it sideways on the desk so that they could both read. Zeke pointed out a few things on the paper—explaining that some were like slang to certain areas and could help determine time period and place. Cole underlined those too, trying to utilize the last three minutes of class left.

“Do we want to meet at my house after school?” Cole asked out to his group.

“Sure,” the girl’s replied, obviously uninterested.

Cole tried not to get frustrated. Maybe, maybe, in class he could get his group to work, but outside of class? The excuses would be infinite—car broke down, had to babysit… Zeke at least seemed inclined to come. Cole scribbled down his address on a scrap of paper for the other boy as the bell rang.

Zeke nodded and pocketed the paper into his loose jeans, before picking up an ear bud that dangled out of his shirt and putting it in his ear. Cole hurried out of class to his next one, a class only slightly easier to stay awake in.

The rest of the morning was a struggle of staying awake in class and taking notes. The afternoon was spent slacking through easier classes and free time, before Cole left early from school. He drove himself home, glad that his off hour was the last period of the day, therefore missing the after school traffic.

He got home and entered the empty house, slipping his shoes off at the door. Cole knew his father wouldn’t be home until around dinnertime, it was one of the few days the man worked a day shift. It was a strange feeling, but Cole shook it off as he headed upstairs.

He washed his face in the bathroom, relaxing as he cleaned up from the day. He relieved himself over the toilet and washed his hands, before shuffling across to his room. Cole uncovered a pack of cigarettes from a drawer of the nightstand by his bed.

The room was fair size, with a bed tucked into the corner under a window. Most of his clothes were strewn about. There was a desk and laptop closer to the door, and he sat, starting up the computer.

Cole struggled to light the cancer stick before taking a drag on it. He coughed, but forced himself to breathe normally. He blew smoke out into his room, making the place smell of cigarette smoke. He continued the same routine, puffing out until his room held a faint haze from the closed bedroom window. He snuffed out the butt against a makeshift ashtray and left it there in plain sight for his father.

Surfing around the Internet afterwards, taking the time to relax before his father came home and hassled him about homework.

Just after three-thirty, Cole heard a knock sound through the house. He carried himself out of his room to stand at the top of the stairs, seeing a figure moving through a window by the front door. Padding down the stairs, he looked out the peephole to see the top of a black haired head, and the hidden distorted face of Zeke.

Cole mentally hid his surprise, but opened up the door to let the other teen in. Zeke hung awkwardly outside the door for a moment before stepping in and slipping his shoes off.

“I have a computer up in my room we can use,” Cole said and began to lead the way upstairs.

Zeke only nodded and kept his backpack close to him. In Cole’s room, he sat on the floor just by the desk while Cole took the computer chair.

“Grab my backpack? I have the packet in there,” Cole asked and gestured across the room.

Zeke stretched across the floor, his rear still planted where he sat. His shirt rode up, revealing inches of boxers and a sliver of skin on his hip. Zeke grabbed the bag and slid it over and into his lap before offering it up to Cole. Cole took it silently and fished out the papers before starting his assault on Google. Most of the time was spent in silence, though Zeke was writing things down on a notepad. Cole didn’t have the heart to point out he had a printer.

The two finished the research within an hour, and Cole minimized everything on his laptop. He stretched in his chair, figuring Zeke would be helpful in justifying that Cole had already done his English homework. Cole sagged back into his chair and glanced down at the other teen, who was now very interested in a loose string on his pants.

“You want to hang out?” Cole offered awkwardly, knowing it would be rude to suggest Zeke leave.

“Sure,” Zeke answered quickly.

Cole led them downstairs, flipping on the TV. He took up a side of the couch, and Zeke took the other. He set his backpack down on the floor just under his feet, and hugged his knees to his chest on the couch. Zeke didn’t even seem interested at what was on TV, but rather was just content to be sitting there.

Cole couldn’t help staring sideways. Zeke’s collarbone was noticeable where the shirt didn’t cover; he was obviously thin. Even his fingers were skinny, and the veins on the tops of his hand were a blue tint in his skin. He was a scrawny little thing.

Zeke felt the eyes on him and glanced over, making Cole avert his eyes.

“So… what kind of music do you listen to?” Cole asked stiffly, trying to get rid of some of the unease in the room.

Zeke took his time to answer, shrugging first. “I’ll listen to anything,” he paused to think for a moment. “Except country and most rap.”

“Everyone says everything but country.” Cole chuckled. Zeke’s lips quirked briefly with the hint of a smile, but he masked his face quickly again. Knowing he was getting a little bit of response from Zeke, Cole tried harder.

“What do you get if you play a country song backwards?” It was a really, really bad joke but Cole tried it anyways.

“You get your dog, girlfriend, and car back,” Zeke answered and grinned playfully. Cole snickered in return, and the two shared a few more jokes. They were all cheesy and lame, but still fun at the same time. Once the jokes had run out, the two turned back to the TV.

Cole was just glad Zeke had come over to help. Cole could have done it himself, but for once he wasn’t the one doing all the work in his group. That’s what he got for being put in the last group. All the kids who actually did their work volunteered earlier.

It was close to five-thirty when Cole heard his father’s car pull up outside. He sniffed himself quickly, checking to see if cigarette smoke still clung to his clothes. Zeke hadn’t said anything- if he had even noticed the faint scent the smoke had left.

The door opened and a burly man walked in, dressed in his civilian clothes. Zeke turned to look and quickly tensed, sinking low into the couch.

“Cole—“ his father, Herald, began before seeing the guest on his couch. Herald narrowed his eyes suspiciously before shooting Cole an accusing look.

Cole had to admit he was a little lost. That look was for something more than the cigarette smoke.

“I should go,” Zeke murmured, unfolding himself from the couch. Grabbing his backpack, he made for the door and slipped his shoes on. “See you tomorrow, Cole; Sheriff Timber.” Zeke was out the door almost instantly after that.

Herald turned on his son. “What was he doing here?”

Cole could only gape. “We worked on a school project together…” What was so wrong with that?

“I do not want you hanging around with Zeke, got it?” Herald warned firmly. The fact he already knew Zeke’s name without an introduction said enough.

“What did he do?” Cole asked. Zeke seemed too timid to have been arrested by Cole’s father. Herald just grunted and stormed into the kitchen, but Cole pursued. “What did he do?” he questioned again.

“I’ve picked him up a few times,” Herald answered, but Cole knew enough. A few times meant a number of times. Now he was more interested.

“For what?” Cole followed his father through the house, not letting the subject drop.

“…Curfew violations, breaking and entering, shoplifting, theft, trespassing,” Herald rattled off the charges unhappily.

Cole could maybe understand the curfew one—plenty of teens stayed out later than they were supposed to. Maybe if a drug charge had been thrown in there too, he could understand that—pot was a fad. Breaking and entering was more extreme than he expected.

“How many times?” Cole asked.

Herald scowled over his shoulder. “Cole, I said don’t hang out with him, and I mean it. I don’t want you getting mixed up with him. And don’t think I don’t smell the cigarettes on you, either.”

Cole frowned in turn at his father. Like hell he would stay away from Zeke now.

“He’s not bad,” Cole mumbled. “He was the only one that showed up to work.”

“Cole, we’re not having this discussion,” Herald stated firmly and slid a microwave dinner into the microwave. “I get you’re going through this whole rebellion thing. I’ll put up with the smoking thing for a while, and curfew… but that kid can get you into some serious trouble that I won’t put up with.”

“Dad—”

“End. Of. Discussion,” Herald bit out, sending a warning look at Cole.

Cole flared defiantly, but didn’t say anything. Instead he stormed up to his room, slamming the door so hard the walls rattled.

Fuck having a cop for a father! Cole shoved open his bedroom room and propped himself up on the sill with a cigarette. He practiced blowing it out of his nose and into the cooling night air. Cole draped his arms out the window watching twilight color the sky.

Herald stopped once at the door, knocking and demanding to talk. Cole just ignored him and lit up another cigarette out of spite.

Everything was his father’s fault. No one wanted to hang out with a kid whose father was a sheriff. No one was ever going to invite him to smoke marijuana—not that he would do it anyways—but still, he just wasn’t included. No one got that he wasn’t going to rat them out!

And Zeke wasn’t that bad. He didn’t seem like a bad kid. Maybe a little off, but he at least seemed reliable. Then again, he ran for the hills at the sight of Cole’s father.

Cole scowled out his window and tapped some ash from his cigarette against the sill. He shook his blond hair down into his eyes, still frowning.

It continued to darken outside, and Cole sunk back onto his bed, but left the window open. He stretched out on the bed until he was sure his father was asleep before leaving his room to shower. Afterwards he crawled back into bed, letting the cool night air fill his room and the blankets keep him warm.