Best Defense is a Good Offense, Part 3

This fictional account contains adult language, drug use and sexual themes. 
If such language and themes offend you, please do not read further. The 
persons and events described in this work are purely fictional. Any 
similarity to actual persons or events is strictly coincidental. Copyright 
2005 by SMOKEHUT. All rights reserved. Permission is hereby granted to 
reproduce this story in any form and for any purpose as long as this notice 
is reproduced and no financial remuneration is received, directly or 
indirectly, by the person reproducing or using it. 

BEST DEFENSE IS A GOOD OFFENSE 
PART THREE 

Didn't Principal Brumfield say it didn't matter who got caught? That's what 
Brumfield had told Jimmy Cornelius, and it looked like he was going to be 
holding him to it. 

Jimmy crouched on the back row of Wildcat Stadium, hidden at least to all 
but the most discerning eye by the chain-link fence. The location afforded 
him a panoramic view, one aided by a telephoto lens. Through the lens he 
was watching the principal's own daughter as she lit a cigarette. Julie 
Brumfield stood between two utility buildings, mostly hidden from view, or 
at least hidden to most who weren't watching from seventy-five feet in the 
air and a hundred yards away. 

Then, to Jimmy's amazement, up walked Kevin Potter. President of the 
Divisadero student body. Star football player. Jimmy couldn't believe his 
eyes. Potter slyly removed the cigarette from Julie's hands, took a drag, 
and then, without exhaling, kissed her. They embraced. He fondled her tits. 

It excited Jimmy. He grew all squirmy. It became difficult to keep still as 
he snapped photo after photo. He started to sweat. Finally, he lowered the 
camera from where he had been shooting through one of the tiny openings in 
the fence. He turned around and sat on the back row of the concrete stands. 
He wanted to fondle himself. But, no, he mustn't. There might be someone 
else in the stadium, someone preparing to mow the field or freshen the 
chalk lines. He took the foot of his wrist, though, and worked it around 
and around in the area of his crotch. Through the fabric of his blue jeans, 
he felt as if he were about to burst. 

He was, as it turned out. 

Jimmy still had time, though, to wash up. He snuck into the P.E. locker 
room before the bell for homeroom and scrubbed himself with tan paper 
towels and perfumed soap from the dispensers. He didn't wash the soap away. 
He was paranoid about having that fishy smell in the air. Then he used a 
blow dryer to dissipate the dampness, a bit. 

On the way to class, Jimmy passed Principal Brumfield in the hall. 

"How's it going?" the principal asked. 

"Oh, good," Jimmy said. "Real good." 

It got better that night when he printed out photos of Julie Brumfield 
making out with Kevin Potter. 



Over the next few weeks, Jimmy compiled an extensive collection of smokers, 
but in time it came to bore him. Most of those caught in the act had little 
to lose. They were the kids of working-class families, some unlikely even 
to graduate. They didn't much care whether they were caught in the act. A 
suspension wasn't much to be dreaded; they didn't want to be stuck at 
Divisadero High, anyway. 

But Julie and Kevin were different. One was a football star and the 
student-body president, the other the daughter of the principal and a 
cheerleader. And they seemed so arrogant, cynical and hypocritical. They 
took advantage of their status and the fact that no one would suspect them 
of smoking or doing almost anything else wrong. Jimmy became obsessed with 
exposing them for what they were. At football games, where he stood on the 
sidelines snapping action photos, he found himself staring often at Julie 
as she performed her routines, imagining her smoking. Sometimes she pursed 
her lips and exhaled as if she were smoking, even though she wasn't. In a 
way, Jimmy hated her, but at the same time, he couldn't get her out of his 
mind. Over and over, he stared at her right up to the point at which she 
glanced his way, which wasn't often, and then he swiftly looked away. The 
very thing he told himself over and over that he abhorred was what drew his 
attention. 

And Kevin. He obviously adored Julie. When Jimmy spied them smoking 
together - always discreetly, always out of the way, but predictable once 
Jimmy picked up their routines -- it seemed as if Kevin was almost 
mimicking Julie's smoking style. She held her cigarette in her left hand, 
between her index and middle fingers, took a moderate puff, opened her 
sweet lips and drew a little cotton ball of white smoke into her lungs, 
then she pursed her lips together and exhaled a thin stream. Kevin's 
technique was about the same, though he sometimes cupped his cigarette 
instinctively to guard against being seen. He also took stronger draws, and 
sometimes he inhaled partially, then drew the smoke back into his lungs a 
second time. Jimmy studied them carefully as he snapped away and wished he 
owned a video camera, although his digital camera had a motor drive so that 
he could snap series of pictures. After school, he would download the 
latest batch into his home computer and study them one after another. 



A 38-6 victory over Cesar Chavez stretched the Divisadero Gauchos' unbeaten 
streak to four games. Kevin Potter caught four passes, one for a touchdown, 
and kicked five extra points and a 38-yard field goal. As soon as the final 
gun sounded fans streamed onto the field. Parents filed proudly by, and 
girlfriends hugged the athletes at the center of the field. It was a long, 
drawn-out celebration, with some exulting and pressing in behind the head 
coach as he conducted interviews with a local television station. 

Jimmy Cornelius briefly trotted out to midfield to record the celebration, 
but he was combing the field looking for Julie Brumfield. Where was she? 
Jimmy looked for Kevin Potter, too. He was nowhere to be found. Finally 
Jimmy spotted them together, arm in arm, walking down the sideline. Kevin 
never even trotted out to midfield. 

"Kev, you were incredible," Julie exulted. 

"You know what?" Kevin asked her. 

"What?" 

"Let's go smoke while everyone else is celebrating." 

"Whoa," Julie replied. "That's kind of dangerous, don't you think?" 

"Fuck, baby, they'll be out there celebrating all night. It'll be fifteen, 
twenty minutes before everybody gets to the locker room. I got the Jeep 
parked kinda `round the corner. All I been thinkin' `bout since the fourth 
quarter started was how I could use a smoke." 

Julie stared into his eyes. She could use a smoke, too. 

"Won't nobody catch us," said Kevin. "Trust me. Let's just walk off the 
field slowly, wave at everybody but keep making headway out the gate. You 
know the drill. Act like you know what you're doing, and you can get away 
with murder." 

Jimmy Cornelius followed at a safe distance, camera in hand. 

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