Natalie was in the courtyard after lunch. Steve excused himself from Stoner and Bobby B's conversation (about the benefits of going commando) and headed over to the group she was standing with.
"Natalie - can I talk with you for a second?"
She followed him to a relatively private bench, carrying her Pepsi can. She had pioneered the art of lighting a cigarette, placing it in the can, then twisting the pop-top around to hold the cigarette in place. To the casual observer, it looked like she was merely sipping a soft drink.
Today she was weating a purple tank top with a hint of a suggestion of a possibility of cleavage. A light breeze drew attention to her generous assets, but Steve willfully ignored the new developments and focused on her eyes.
"Hey Natalie - I heard you broke up with that dude."
"Yeah - are you here to pity me?" She took another drag from her concealed cigarette.
"No! I'm here to see what you're doing for prom."
Nataliecough-snorted, sending smoke into the air. "Prom? Me? Seriously?"
"Yeah, why not?"
"I'm not really the prom type of girl, in case you hadn't noticed."
"I will bet," Steve said, "that you look fantastic in a formal gown."
"Are you just asking me because you think you're going to get - oh, crap."
Coach Rivers was coming through the crowds of students, heading straight for them. Without thinking, Steve grabbed the incriminating Pepsi can and held it behind his back.
"Ms. Rose," the coach's gravelly voice sounded terrible, even at lunchtime, "are you smoking out here?"
"No, sir."
"Then perhaps you'd care to explain the cloud of smoke I just saw from over here."
Natalie was silent. Slowly, ever so slowly, Coach Rivers turned his steely gaze on Steve.
"Come with me, both of you. And kindly bring the can you're holding behind your back, Mr. Norcutt."
Thoughts of prom disappeared as Steve followed Natalie and the coach inside.
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