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Gold-tipped Rebellion

Feras Hamid Banday

    What was required from the bespectacled teenager with a Nike backpack and the soulless metal closet was some form of a release. On this cold winter morning, stood the vending machine accompanied by its regular customer, an introverted high-schooler. The vending machine was pretty much empty. It had four dusty racks with the bottom flashing the gold-tipped filters. Perhaps this vending machine could have been an abandoned one with only one loyal and regular customer—the teenager with an expensive backpack but empty. Who else could have made a purchase from such a dilapidated machine? No one! Even though the vending machine was not popular (just like him), this metal-shelled companion was just about appropriate for the introvert.
    The hopeless boy customarily took a longer route to school every day in order to avoid the bully boarding the same bus stop as his. However, to move farther meant staying close to the vending machine and risking missing the bus.
    Today, not only had he missed the bus, but he had also left his Math practically unfinished. He ought to have completed it on route, by securing a “safe haven”, the last seat next to the window. A plummeting chink pierced the cold, silent air as smoke engulfed his ears and mouth. To his surprise, a burly hand grabbed his shoulder. It was Aaron.
    “I thought you had left for school already. Does Aunt know about it?”
    An aura of mystery. The boy radiated energies ranging from agony and fear to anger and hopelessness.
    Shreds of sweat dripped down his forehead and through his garments as he began to comprehend the situation. He took it calmly (on the outside). In order to retain his incognito, he had to take on the uphill battle and talk to the bully without falling apart. Or he could simply just break down and end up exposing himself. As luck would have it, he hadn’t finished his daily cancer stick yet, so he gave off no strong smoky odour, a potential weapon of disclosure.
    A brittle and a quavering voice emerged from his mouth. “Why ar-why are you... always after me?”
    “I could smell the cigarette from a distance. There was no point in extinguishing it.”
    “So- what is it that you want from me?
    “Nothing, I am just looking after you as a big brother. A shame Aunt had to find out your dirty secret through me.”
    “Y-you’re going to tell on me?”
    “Aren’t you getting late for your practical?” Aaron smirked.
    In an instant, he dug his hands into the snow, patting it furiously.
    “W-what are you doing?”
    “I need the butt to make my confession to Mum. Before you do.”



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