People think the boy’s toilets is where the dirtiest punks in school like to hang out and swap the old smoke for a copy of some smut rag, and most of the time they would be correct.
By tradition school yard toilets hold a reputation for being the one place even a SWAT team would hesitate to go in.
But Maverick was not somebody that thought too much on tradition. He wanted to be something a grade higher than the other punks that had the bright idea that you could get more cash selling smokes then you would smoking them.
Growing up watching cop shows next to an alcoholic father, Maverick learned a number of things, besides the reasonable lesson that drunks are a bunch of antisocial bastards that will take a fist to anything for any reason.
One lesson was that second hand smoke attaches to everything and that it is near impossible to get out, much like fried chicken on a greasy teenager.
So where else could a student with a number of desirable and illegal objects find a suitable home?
Changing lockers? Good, but limiting in both clientele and access. Music room? Too close to the teachers and clumsy couples tended to cause most of Maverick’s clientele to be slightly put off.
So where then could you delight in the hustle and bustle of trade while being inconspicuous?
For Maverick, it was the library.
Taking out his private strategy guide for a game that featured trade as it’s main objective, Maverick was open for business.
It seemed the moment that the book opened that Lockie was there with a comic book on hand.
“So. Um.” The nervous student glanced over at the librarian who was doing little but frowning at a pack of students who were looking at something on the computers that somehow made it past the firewall. “How about playing something later?”
“Look at the librarian again and you’ll be spending your senior years with your head down the dunny.” Maverick spat through his teeth before sliding the packet of cigarettes to the nervous fool.
If at all possible the young retailer would have liked to not do business with somebody who didn’t have the balls to carry smokes in the first place, but cash was an excellent negotiator.
The transaction completed, Lockie snatched up the last pack of smokes he was ever going to get of the delinquent and with the grace of a blind rat with Alzheimer’s left the library.
Things moved fast after that for the next hour.
To the librarian, the children were talking about upgrades and characters. Not something she would approve in but, alas, nothing that was worthy of a scolding.
What the boys were actually doing behind their books would have given her a heart attack, as Maverick was moving everything and anything that he could have got his hands on from under her nose.
Smokes, alcohol, magazines with little to no morals or clothes on the cover, and the odd pirated movie. Everything was fair game to Maverick. Except of course narcotics.
Drugs, including the pharmaceutical ones were a dangerous business and Maverick had no plans to do business in a prison or a coffin. For now he was fine just doing small time trouble making to pay for both supplies and a wedding ring.
A good hour before graduation Maverick’s last customer finally decided she wanted to make an appearance.
Like a panther slowly making her way to an easy kill, Nancy stalked Maverick with her iconic pure smile, “Want to know what types of games I like to play?” her whispers tugged on Maverick’s heartstrings and his hormone driven mind.
With some effort, the seduced seventeen year old pulled out a shoebox filled with things that could get both of them suspended from school, if they weren’t already finished with the place.
This scenario was of course completely unnecessary.
Both individuals were adults and had been around each other’s houses before to make the odd trade, but Nancy had liked the danger too much to quit. Like an exhibitionist she got off on the danger and the chance of getting caught.
The common sense part of Maverick’s brain was on it’s knees, almost begging the idiot to ditch the tramp before she got him into the sort of trouble that the devil himself couldn’t squirm himself out of, but Maverick would not listen.
Standing there with his heart pounding and his eyes reading teenage lust, Maverick was oozing idiocy and sadly that cure included going into a boy’s toilets cubical with one of his dirty magazines.
An Act that Maverick refused to even think about as it was just plain sad.
Not wanting to draw this out more than he could, Maverick decided he had lost enough blood to his lower body and ended the conversation.
Think of something smart dumb-ass. He told himself.
“Will I be able to…” Maverick tried to say but was interrupted.
A text from one of Nancy’s friends saved both from an embarrassing moment that would have caused the other students at the computer desks to spread Maverick’s exact phrase over the social networks like a venial disease at an orgy.
“Come on Romeo, it’s time to say good bye to this fucking waste of time.” Nancy said.
The librarian was appalled to hear such language from one her favourite students, “Ms. Harrington!”she exclaimed.
“Fuck off.” For once in her life Nancy was free enough to speak her mind. “By the way, every time I brought you your coffee you old vag, I spat in it.”
Maverick didn’t think he could get so excited without seeing at least one female in the total nude, but there he was.
So while the occupants in the library had observed the exchange of words with open mouths, Maverick wrapped his arm around Nancy’s waste. “I love you.” And he meant it.
From this moment on he was going to declare his entire life to Nancy Harrington, at least until the day he got bored of her and left her for another, and more importantly, younger woman.
As they walked out of the stuffy library the young couple cared little about niceties. In an hour they would be free one way or another. From school, from teenage angst, and if they had a bit of sense in their heads, each other.