Kevin watched from the misery of the wet bus stop as the white Hyundai pulled towards him and stopped, its tires tearing through a murky puddle.

The passenger side window rolled down and within the car he saw a woman, a blonde woman. "Need a ride to school?" she asked.

She was a total stranger. Maybe she would kill him. He didn't care. The world sucked today.

"Sure, thanks," he said, and scrambled inside. If she killed him, they'd all be sorry.

She was a plain woman, thin of face and wearing not much makeup. She looked a little tired.

"Hi," said a voice from the back seat. He knew that voice. It was Trailer Park Trisha. His flirtation with death had come to an embarassing end. He was riding with the school pariah and her mom.

But the car was warm, at least, and dry. He leaned his head back against the seat and watched the wipers go back and forth.

He heard an odd clicking. He looked over and saw that the woman was lighting a long white cigarette. The pack beside her said Virginia Slims.

Now he was really going to die. Smoking was bad, a sin,and it made your lungs black. He tried not to breathe.

Didn't she care that she was going to poison him and Trisha both?

Trisha didn't seem to mind. She was talking a mile a minute about something, leaning forward from her position in the back seat. He stole a glance at her. She was no beauty. Too scrawny. But she had pretty eyes. It was stupid of the other kids to pick on her, just because she lived in a trailer.

The woman clenched her lips tightly around the filter of the cigarette and sucked in a deep breath. He tried not to stare but he had never been this close to a smoker before and he had never realized that a cigarette glowed when you sucked on it, or that it seemed almost to struggle to get away, dancing up and down, or that the smoke from the end stopped swirling for a minute when the person inhaled.

For at least two seconds she dragged on the cigarette, then pulled it away from her lips suddenly. She licked her lips and stared ahead of her at an obstinate light that refused to turn green.

He watched in amazement as from her lips a huge cloud of smoke poured, twisting and spilling its way through the air in front of her, seeming to recoil from the chilly windshield. It seemed like she had inhaled a ton of smoke, he thought. All the windows of the car were closed because of the rain, except hers, which was open a tiny crack, so the smoke mostly stayed in the car.

He had to breathe. He opened his mouth a little and took a little sip of the smoky air. He thought it would taste terrible, but he got the surprise of his life. The smoke smelled kind of dusty and sweet, not at all unpleasant, and though it burned in his mouth and throat, he actually liked it. Weird!

She had already taken another drag and exhaled it in little staccatto puffs this time. He opened his mouth and drew in a deep breath of the hazy air. His head seemed to buzz and his eyes were stinging, but he was feeling really good.

Her smoke seemed to wrap around him like a blanket and comfort him, to smooth off the hard edges of his mood.

She was having all kinds of fun with it herself, making little smoke rings and shaping it into corkscrews. One time she even talked to Trisha right through an exhale.

"Peter's coming over Thursday to help you practice," she said. With each "p," the smoke on her lips bounced away as if swatted.

Each time she exhaled, he inhaled, hard, filling his mouth and lungs with the candy-sweet fumes.

He hoped she might take the long way to school. He hoped she might take forever. But the ugly building soon rose before them and she pulled to a stop.

With a jab of her fingers, she stabbed out her cigarette in the car ashtray. It made a grinding sound.

"Are you gonna open the door?" Trisha asked. He flushed. He'd been staring. He fumbled for the handle, drawing one last deep breath of the smoky air before opening the door and letting it escape.

Outside was cold. The wind blasted at him, tearing at his eyes. He remembered his manners:

"Thank you, Mrs. Miller."

Trisha stood beside him.

"Mom, can you pick me up afterwards? I have to stay for Mr. Lewis's math study period after school."

"3:30?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, then."

The car drove off.

He walked beside Trisha up the sidewalk towards the building. She wasn't plain, really, at all, he decided. He kind of liked the way she walked. He hoped she might ask him to ride home with her and her mom, but she didn't.

As they got through the doors, he saw Jacob Hunter standing by the lockers.

"It's Trailer Trish and Little Man," Hunter said. "How's the cocktail waitress business these days?"

Trisha just ducked her head and kept walking.

Hunter touched his shoulder.

"This your girlfriend? She smells like a bar."

Kevin exploded against Hunter, landing a hard punch to his gut and then headbutting the bully.

"Take it back, take it back, you damn dirty dog."

The other boys stood stunned. Hunter outweighed this kid by at least 20 pounds. But the boy was powered with rabid rage. Hunter struggled against his sudden headlock and the riot going on in his pummelled stomach.

"I ... I take it back. She's pretty, I admit it, let me go!"

With a final surge of passion, the boy shoved Hunter away, hard. Hunter slammed back against the lockers, which clanged dramatically.

Kevin was breathing hard, still hating Hunter, wanting to kill him or something. But a soft hand pressed against his.

"C'mon, Kevin, he's dirt. C'mon, let's get to class."

She was touching his hand and it felt hot, it felt good. He followed along behind her.

"Wanna eat lunch together?" she asked.

He liked that thought.

"You can ride home with us, too," she said.

He really liked that thought.

The world was changing. He was liking how it was changing. A lot.