Reaching You

Where has the time gone? I looked at my clock.

It was already morning. Why do I feel like I got nothing done? I stared at the notebook, tons of pages filled with notes. That was from all night too. I worked from the time I got home to the time I had to go to school again. And I don’t feel a bit tired.

Speed is really something. It’s great. But not the addiction. I’m not fooling myself from the true effects of the drug, I know. I’ve prepared for the effects anyways.

Then a startling image popped into my head. The boy from earlier and that terrified look in his eyes. I shrugged it off anyways. I don’t care and I don’t need to care. I don’t even know him. Or did I? He kind of looked familiar but whatever. He might be a new student from somewhere else. We got a lot of them this year.

I slung my backpack over my shoulder and headed off to school.

I hate to admit it, but the reason I really started doing drugs was to make my father happy. To be a good son with good grades. After Mom left, he had such high expectations for me. He wanted me to go to Yale or some other Ivy League school.

Nothing ever satisfied him though. I brought back mid-ninety scores on Finals and semester grades. My lowest was a ninety-one percent in math.

All he did was sigh, fucking sigh. No, “good job Haven. This is great! You’re a great son. I’m so happy to have you. Who needs your mother!”

But no, he just couldn’t get over her. And now I take even harder classes and get higher grades. I crash during the weekend though because I realize that your body needs sleep sometime. So I sleep the entire weekend.

And that’s my schedule, day in and day out.

*~*~*~*

I stood there, in the dark corner of the bathroom, staring at the pleading creature in front of me.

“Please…” he begged in a soft tone with such a small voice. “Please don’t tell any of my friends.”

It was the boy from yesterday that I’d caught throwing up.

“Don’t tell them that you got sick?” I asked, baffled. Why was it such a big deal?

Surprise flashed across his face. “O-Oh… yeah, th-that.”

His entire face went red as he began to stalk off. I grabbed his arm. “Wait, what are you talking about?”

Was he doing drugs as well? Is that what he’s talking about? Perhaps that’s what I wasn’t supposed to see.

“Nothing, it’s nothing,” he squeaked.

“Fine, what-the-fuck-ever. I don’t give a damn what you do,” I said, and with that, I let go of his bony wrist and left the bathroom.

In AP physics, I got my test handed back. A ninety-nine. Maybe it would be good enough. But it certainly wasn’t a perfect score. It probably wouldn’t be good enough for Dad.

It almost never is. My hands started shaking, the paper jerking along with them. I put the paper down and rested my hands. I didn’t know if it was emotion or the drug.

I took a deep breath. Okay, if I stay up all night tonight and sleep tomorrow I can study for my Calculus test.

Everything could be okay if I were just…

Better.