The Drug Years

Lacey's point of view
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Walking through the halls was a blur. I wasn't really all there. I was too busy thinking of what I was going to do. What I needed to do. Several people I had never seen or talked to before kept stopping me and asking me random questions.

One blonde cheerleader asked, "You're Lacey, right?"

"Yeah," I replied before continuing my journey to my first class.

Then a few moments later another girl came up to me asking the same thing. Only the brave few ventured up to me and asked. Most just stared as if I was a walking plague.

Oh my God, what is wrong with this place? And why did they care if I was Lacey? Usually people only cared if they knew something, and I wasn't entirely sure what I had done to deserve all this attention.

"What's your name?" A boy asked as I was feet from the chemistry room.

By this point I had already had enough. "Why the fuck do you care?" I hissed at him.

He just threw his hands up in surrender and walked away. What is wrong with everyone? I made my way to my seat, noticing Quinton was not there yet.

Whatever was going on, I was absolutely certain he would know what it was.

He strolled into class ten minutes late. "Hi Ace," he whispered as he sat in the seat beside me.

"What's wrong with the school?" I whispered back.

"What do you mean?" He questioned.

"Everyone is being strange. They keep asking me if I'm Lacey. And there's staring."

He looked confused for a second, then realization crossed his face. "I'll be back later," he said getting up and walking out of the class.

What the fuck?! I thought. Everyone is being strange today. I got up from my seat as well and left the class, going into the closest bathroom I could find. I pulled out my cell phone and called my house. My father picked up. "Can I go home?" I asked. Not wanting to stay here.

"No," he said, then asked, "Why?"

"Everyone is being strange. I just don't want to be here," I answered.

He was quiet for a moment then replied, "I'll call the office and sign you out, but you'll have to find your own way home or where ever. I'm running late for a meeting."

"Ok. Thanks Dad." I ended the call and walked back to chemistry.

Five minutes later, the office called over the intercom, asking if I was there and informing my teacher that I would be leaving. I gathered my things into my backpack and strolled out of the class, down the stairs, and out the front door of the school.

I began walking not entirely sure where I was going. I didn't intend on going home. My dad had given me some freedom and I was going to use it.