“Maybe. You still like Klonopins?” I asked.
“I do,” she said, a wicked smile forming on her face.
I fished the pill out of my pocket. “It’ll cost you a couple more menthols to make the trade even.” I insisted.
Miranda flipped open her pack and pulled out five. She held my stare as I took them from her fingers and placed the pill in the center of her palm.
“Thanks.” She winked and turned away to find her friends again.
“No problem,” I muttered.
Trip walked up, his eyes looking like they might pop out of his head.
“Miranda Cooper…what was that about?” he wondered.
“Business,” I said nonchalantly, but I couldn’t keep a grin from stretching across my face. I knew how hot Trip thought Miranda was, and just the simple fact that we’d exchanged words was enough to make him all kinds of jealous.
“Right,” he muttered. “Got anything to share with your best bud today?”
“Nope, not unless you want a menthol.” I handed him one before he could answer, it was repayment for the one I’d bummed yesterday, and shoved the others into my pocket.
I started towards school, my hands deep in my pockets, my fingers wrapped around the one pill I had left, headed for the nearest water fountain, the one in the main building.
With the pill pinched between my index finger and thumb, I bent down for a sip of water, my eyes glancing around. Not a teacher in sight. I popped it in my mouth and swallowed quickly.
“What was that?” A familiar voice asked me from a few feet away, Ali.
“Tylenol,” I said a little too quickly, and it felt so wrong to lie to her.
Ali smiled, taking the remaining steps between us.
“Right.” She rolled her eyes. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell.”
I stood straight and wiped the back of my hand across my mouth, catching a dribble of water before it slid down my chin. Ali looked amazing today in blue jean shorts and a moderately tight pink t-shirt, which meant the dribble of water could have easily been drool.
“Cool,” I muttered lamely.
“So, what was that?” she repeated again and then began walking.
I took a few quick steps to catch up. “A Klonopin,” I answered.
I glanced at her, assessing her reaction. She didn’t seem like the type to pill-pop, but I’d been wrong before.
“Never taken one of those before, but I’ve taken Xanax. Is it kind of like that?” she asked, her big blue eyes meeting mine.
A slight tingle of shock went through my mind. So, she wasn’t as innocent as I’d thought she was after all. Selfishly, I thought this could be good for me.
I grinned. “You’ve taken Xanax before?”
“Yes,” she scoffed, obviously at the tone of my question and not at the question itself.
We were almost to Mrs. Gilbert’s class now, and I couldn’t believe I’d walked her to class. I chuckled to myself, unbelieving.
“Why is that funny?” she asked, her tone a little irritated. Apparently I’d offended her.
“You don’t seem like the pill-popper type,” I admitted.
“Well, obviously there’s a lot about me you don’t know, then, isn’t there?” she insisted in a cocky tone, slipping into the classroom before me.
I grinned after her. “Guess so.”
I walked to my seat at the back of the room and slid in, my eyes on her the whole time. Ali sat and twisted in her desk to face me.
“Need another pencil?”
I held the one from yesterday up. “Got one.”
“Thought I’d ask,” she smiled, spinning in her seat to face the front.
The tardy bell rang and Mrs. Gilbert began talking at the front of the room.
Today, class was different. Not only because my mind was fuzzy and I was feeling good from my Klonopin kicking in, but because I wasn’t the only one sneaking glances today, Ali was sneaking them, too.
When the bell finally rang dismissing class, Ali was staring at me and grinning. I stood for the first time in an hour and a half and my legs felt as though they were made of Jell-o. It hit me then, and I realized just how good I actually felt. A goofy grin crept across my face and I chuckled while clumsily gathering up my stuff.
“I noticed you were feeling good about twenty minutes or so into class. You look like you’re feeling even better now, though,” Ali said. She was standing right beside me now and I hadn’t even noticed her walking towards me.
My notebook slid from my fingers and bounced across the floor, spilling out all my papers, which included various doodles of burning joints, pot leafs, and numerous explicit verses from rap songs. I bent down to scoop them up before she could see them all.
“Yeah,” I replied, still grinning.
She bent down to help. “Guess pills aren’t the only thing you enjoy,” she whispered in a teasing tone.
“True,” I said, shoving the papers back into my notebook.
I stood and we began walking together towards the hall.
“You gonna make it to your next class?”
“Why? You offering to walk me?” I countered.
A smirk tugged at the corners of her perfect lips. “Maybe, depends on where it is.”
“Spanish II, downstairs,” I answered.
“Nope, guess you’re on your own. I’ve got Advanced Foods and Nutrition in the careers building,” she frowned.
“Catch you later, then.”
“See ya.” She waved.
We parted ways and the conversation was over.
By the time lunch rolled around, I was coming down and wishing I’d held onto that other pill. I found myself hiding out in a bathroom stall taking quick drags off a cigarette for two reasons, I was nickin’ bad and because of the head rush you get from hot-boxing one.
I cursed myself afterward, because I felt nauseous.
I couldn’t wait for the rest of the day to be over. One, because there was a good chance I’d see Ali again while I stood at the smoking trees after school. And two, because of the bag sitting in my sock drawer waiting to be smoked.
My day passed slowly, like always, and soon I was walking towards the smoking trees for a cigarette in the shade before my long walk home in the hot sun, when Trip’s arm wrapped around my neck and tugged my head downwards for a noogie.
“Aw, man. C’mon,” I muttered, pulling free. I brushed my fingers across my shaved head and grinned.
“Saw you and Ali Carson walking together today,” Trip said, eyeing me.
“So?” I said, stepping under the trees.
“So?” he scoffed. “She’s freakin’ hot, what’s she doin’ hangin’ out with you?”
I lit a cigarette and took a long drag before answering. “Who knows? Maybe she’s not too good for me, after all.”
He smirked and nodded out into the parking lot. “Maybe not.”
I followed his gaze. Ali’s car was pulling up to the curb directly in front of me, her window rolled all the way down.
“I saw you walking home yesterday, you do that every day?” she asked, leaning out the window.
“Yeah,” I answered, trying incredibly hard to withhold a smile.
“Want a ride today?”
I hesitated, taking in another pull off my cigarette, and Trip elbowed me in the side, as if urging me to say yes. I didn’t need any help in deciding. It was hot and a ride home would be nice, especially one from her, but what if Calvin was home? I didn’t want her to meet him.
Fuck it, I couldn’t pass this up. I’d have to seem rude and not invite her in.
“Shorts?” I offered Trip the remaining half of my cigarette.
“Sure,” he said with a goofy grin.
“See you later,” I told him, and I started around her car to the passenger side, trying hard to suppress a goofy grin of my own.
“Later,” Trip said as I opened her car door.
I slid in and the scent of coconut tickled my nose, making me in
stantly become self-conscious of the fact I probably smelled like an ashtray for the first time in my life.
“Buckle up,” she said with a wicked grin.
I obeyed, and we sped out of the parking lot at a speed far too fast for the short distance from where we were to the intersection at the front of the school. I laughed.
“Right or left?” she demanded.
“Left,” I said, and she squealed tires off school grounds.
I gripped the oh-shit-handle firmly, glad the rent-a-cop was parked at the other exit of the parking lot directing traffic today and not this one.
“Right,” I shouted just before she came to the next stop sign. We came to a rolling stop and then she gassed it again.
Needless to say, we were pulling up to my house in four minutes flat, a trip which usually took me a good twenty or more to walk. Relief filled me when I saw the car still gone. Calvin wasn’t home yet, which meant he wouldn’t be peeping out the windows all creepy-like wondering whose car was parked in the driveway. I could relax.
“You drive like that all the time?” I asked, jokingly.
“No, only when I’m in the mood to have a little fun,” Ali smirked, shifting into park.
I chuckled, my hand already gripping the door handle. “Thanks for the ride.”
“Aren’t going to invite me in, huh?”
I glanced at the house and then back at her, shaking my head. “I don’t think so.”
“Why not? Doesn’t look like anyone’s home,” she said, her eyes lingering on the front door.
“I’m sure my mom is,” I said, hoping I wasn’t hurting her feelings and killing any chance I might of had with her.
“Afraid she won’t like me?” she wondered, her blue eyes on mine again.
I stared at her. How could anyone in their right mind not like her? Not liking her wasn’t the problem, hell, my mother probably wouldn’t even be awake to notice her. The problem was, Calvin could be home any minute and he’d like her. That I was sure of.
I pictured him talking all smooth to her seeming to be charming, and then making crude gestures behind her back. I’d definitely end up saying something to him, and no doubt, I’d get my ass beat for it.
“No, afraid she’ll be drunk again and laid up on the couch like always,” I answered, part lie, part truth.
Sympathy entered her eyes. “Oh,” she said, and I felt relieved she seemed sad for me instead of thinking I was being a jerk.
I opened the passenger door, my eyes never leaving her face. “See you tomorrow.”
She blinked. “Yeah, see you tomorrow,” she whispered, and I got the impression she’d never imagined coming home from school to something like that every day before.
The funny part was, she didn’t even know the half of it. Coming home to find my mom in a drunken sleep and passed out on the couch was the easy part of my life.
I got out and closed the door behind me. Ali waved and turned her car around in the driveway slowly and started down the street at a much slower pace than she’d been going when we’d pulled up.
I stepped in through the front door and there was mom, passed out in all her drunken splendor, sprawled across the couch. One empty fifth of Captain Morgan rested on the floor in front of her, and another one, half gone, was clutched to her chest.
I wanted to leave her like that. To walk straight to my room and smoke the bowl that had been waiting on me all day, but if Calvin came home anytime soon, he’d be pissed I’d left her on the couch again. Since he’d been up all last night, I would be sure to get an ass beating for it this time.
I walked over to her and pried the bottle from her hand. I maneuvered my arms underneath her and attempted to pull her into a sitting position. She was so wasted she barely even stirred.
I finally managed to get her to stand. I tossed her arm around my neck and stumbled under her weight as I helped her to her room. She flopped down across her bed, mumbling something about me being a good boy under her breath.
“Thanks, Mom,” I whispered to her, closing her bedroom door behind me.
Things hadn’t always been like this. My mom hadn’t always been a drunk and Calvin hadn’t always been a dope-head drug dealer, but it has always been the three of us. At least as far back as I can remember.
Dad split when I was three and Calvin was seven. I was too young to remember him, but from what Calvin has told me about him, he wasn’t worth remembering, anyway. He had been a drug dealer, too, and a pretty high up one. Or so I’ve been told. Calvin always used to say dealin’ was in our blood, his excuse for why he always resorted back to it whenever he didn’t feel he was making enough money at a real job or when his real job fell through.
Mom was a waitress; she’d worked double shifts a lot to make ends meet. When we were little she’d leave us at a babysitters, but once Calvin turned eleven, mom didn’t see the need for one anymore. The money she saved from paying a babysitter became her wine money.
And that’s how it started.
She began with a small glass of wine a night. Before long, the glasses started getting bigger and bigger, and turned from one, to two or three a night. Until eventually wine just didn’t do it for her anymore. Then she started bringing home brown paper bags from the liquor store with fifths of vodka inside. It wasn’t long after, she lost her job.
My theory, they got tired of her coming in half drunk still from the night before.
About a month after Mom lost her job, she started drinking rum, and since then there hasn’t been a single minute go by out of the day when she isn’t either drunk or sleeping.
Mom losing her job was when Calvin started pushing more drugs to compensate. So far, it’s been working.
I went to my room and closed the door behind me. I headed for my sock drawer and pulled out my old tin box of paraphernalia. I sat on my bed and began packing the bowl I’d been waiting to smoke all day.
It was dark when Calvin pulled into the driveway. I was sitting on the couch watching a DVD, our satellite had been cut off months ago. He came in the door with Brent and Jade behind him, as always.
“Mom sleepin’?” he demanded, flopping down in the recliner. He had his black backpack with him, the bag he kept all his paraphernalia and drugs in. He set it at his feet gently. They must have been off selling.
“Yeah,” I mumbled without looking at him.
“Whatcha watchin’?” Jade asked in-between grinding her teeth. She sat on the couch beside me.
“Pulp Fiction.”
“Oh, I love this movie,” she muttered.
I remained seated, my eyes glued to the TV, growing more irritated by the second due to their unwanted presence. I couldn’t hear over the three of them grinding their teeth and bouncing their legs with pent up energy. I finally got up and went to my room.
“Where you goin’?” Calvin asked.
I paused and turned to face him. “To bed.”
“Wanna do a bump with us instead?” he offered, his eyes huge and solid black. A sheen of sweat glistened across his skin.
“No,” I said, and continued walking to my room.
I didn’t care if he wondered why I’d turned it down twice, now, I’d let him think what he wanted.
All I knew was, I was proud of myself for it.
I went to my room, took a few more hits off my bowl, and curled up in bed to sleep.
Chapter Three
I woke the next morning to noises coming from the kitchen. Either Calvin and his buddies were still home, and probably coming down by now, raiding the cabinets and fridge for something small and appealing to eat, or else it was mom, hung over and doing the same.
I grabbed some clothes and headed for the shower, hoping no one would bother me. When I got out, I went straight to the living room to sift through the ashtray for a long enough butt to smoke.
Jade was sitting on the couch, a bag of plain tortilla chips in her lap and a glass of ice water in her hand. She looked like shit. Calvin and Brent must have been
in the kitchen, still searching for something appetizing to eat.
I sat in the recliner and began digging through the ashtray on the end table.
“Morning,” I said.
“Morning,” Jade mumbled, chewing on a half-eaten chip. “My pack’s right there on the coffee table. I know you smoke menthols, but it’s got to taste better than that,” she grimaced.
I dusted my fingers off on my shorts and reached for her pack.
“Thanks.” I muttered, pulling one out. “You guys done?”
She frowned. “Yeah. The little bit we had for ourselves didn’t last very long.” She took a swig of water to wash down the chip in her mouth, I could hear her stomach gargle from where I sat.
I lit my cigarette just as Calvin walked into the room, chewing on a piece of bread.
“I need you to get rid of some shit for me at school today.”
“Like what?” I asked.
I knew what this meant. It meant he’d already used up his personal, like Jade had said, but that he’d dipped into the shit he was supposed to sell, too. I’d have to jack the prices up on the kids at school to pay for what he’d used. I didn’t protest though, because today was Friday, which meant everyone would be ready to party. The kids at school didn’t care how much they had to pay for their high, as long as they got it. Hell, for most of them it was their parents’ money anyway.
Also, I’d be able to snag a little of whatever he wanted me to sell for myself, and in the end everyone was happy.
“Usual,” he said, trying hard not to gag on the piece of bread in his mouth.
That was the worst part of coming down. Nothing looked good, nothing sounded good, and absolutely nothing tasted good, but you knew you needed to eat. So, you had to force yourself, and if you’ve ever tried to force yourself to eat, then you know how hard it is just to swallow.
“Where is it? I’ve got to go.” I took another drag off my cigarette and then put it out; it tasted like shit, definitely not a menthol.
Calvin bent down and dug in his backpack, searching for the stuff he’d, no doubt, prepared for me last night. He tossed me four sandwich bags of weed and a little zip-lock baggie filled with blue Xanax pills shaped like footballs.
Shattered Soul Page 2