It must be fresh...

--I was smoking a precious cigg, watching as the smoke flew helplessly upwards, heavy, as if burdened by the cold. It was freezing, the earth stood still under a blazing sun whose heat failed to reach out and touch with warmth those dwelling beneath it. Only some privileged few were able to experience it in the South, way South, near the equator. Hands shaking, I imagined fantastical tropical beaches, like the ones you used to see in commercials, and then naked people dancing underneath the Sun – because, after all, who cared about PIGs when it was warm? To just be warm…I thought, was all I wanted, even if I knew it’d do me no good.
--We were waiting for Anthony, whom, like the Sun, shone his special sunlight onto people more privileged, or perhaps, more worth his time. I didn’t care, or really know; I had a feeling that if I had met Anthony without Tory…that if I had let her die that day back then that he would have probably liked me better. Even if I don’t think I would have liked him. And the Sun would shine on me; I would sit in with the others around a fire, drink, and tell stories…
--Instead I was freezing outside on what I had heard Carter’s people call a Decepsun day, trying not to stare into Tory’s blindfold hoping for some response. But I couldn't help it, I couldn’t help but shake and suck on my cigg and watch Tory from the corner of my eyes hoping to see a smile, a tint of emotion. She was like a frozen torch, her lit up hair stagnant on the tip of layers of brown and green, mismatched clothes. I myself preferred black, leather especially, even if I was a little cold; or a lot cold.
--Her chapped lips opened. “Here he comes,” she mumbled for my sake, but I caught the grin on the tips of her lips. I nodded, knowing, damn, that she couldn’t see it, and waited for another minute or two before the door swung open and out stepped another that preferred black. But he dressed warm, prepared for even just this little private meeting; a familiar black scarf wrapped around his neck. Only thing that got me curious was the addition of a backpack that looked packed and ready to go.
--“Good morning,” he said in his usual, formal-ass tone.
--“Sup’,” I replied with a nod of the head.
--“Good morning,” Tory mumbled dutifully.
--“I will cut to the chase because it’s cold. I’m doing something a little different today – it’s going to be like before. Not Before. I mean before everyone else got here. I’m going to go out with you two to see personally how Tory is progressing.”
I couldn’t help but cock a brow and loosen my hold on my cigg. “I’m sorry, so, you’re leaving the school to them?”
--Anthony smoothly replied, “You don’t trust them?”
--Maybe. “No, you can never trust anyone, but, it’s your choice, man.”
--There was a moment of silence where I’m very sure Anthony was contemplating his decision. But he nodded, as if it was the thing to do, and turned to knock on the heavy school doors twice. There was movement and loud creaking – the doors were locked up tight. The noises had sent goose bumps over my skin, and for a brief awfully frightening moment I thought of long brown-black hair and amber, almost devilish eyes. Tamiko – would she cause any trouble? But I checked myself, knowing that she could make it happen with or without Anthony there to stop her. As we turned to go, though, I couldn’t help looking back at the face of the school, taking another long puff of my cigg. Why was I so anxious? My skin tingled when I thought again of her smile, hidden by the cold concrete of the school. Shrugging my shoulders as if pushing off the feeling, I looked forward into the Decepsun day, the blue sky familiar in its harshness. If I never saw her again, I thought, it would be for the best; she was a dangerous and unnecessary distraction.