I've Got Myself to Blame for This

“How did Monica manage to get a bong?” I asked Stephanie as we headed over to our other friend, Monica’s house.

“She stole it from her cousin,” Stephanie smirked.

“Well, by all means we must try it out.” I laughed.

We were soon sprawled across the floor of Mon’s room. We had a towel rolled up against the bottom of her door and the window was open as we eagerly inhaled the thick smoke, until we were too high to care if we got skipped or not.

Sometime in the last few minutes, the stereo had been turned on.

“Why aren’t the Beatles still alive?” Monica asked before adding, “And why can’t they be like, our age?”

Stephanie started laughing, “The Beatles aren’t dead.”

“Some of them are!” Monica argued.

“No, they’re not! That’s like saying Freddie Mercury is dead.” Stephanie argued.

“Freddie Mercury is dead,” Monica laughed. I tuned them out laying back to stare at the little moving dot on Monica’s ceiling.

“How much longer of summer is left until school starts?” I asked randomly.

“That didn’t make any sense.” Stephanie laughed, “And as much as we want.” She shrugged.

“I never want school to start.” Mon sighed, “I want to stay in my room with you guys forever.”

“Me too,” Steph was quick to add. I started laughing. I’m not sure how long we all layed on the floor of Mon’s room, but it was slowly getting darker outside, and I remembered what day it was.

“Oh, my God,” I spoke sitting up.

“What?” Mon asked giggling.

“School starts in a few days.”

“I think your high is wearing off,” Steph spoke, “and you’re negativity is killing mine.”

“Sorry,” I laughed, “but I need to get home anyway.”

“I drove us here, though.” Steph pouted.

“Oh, yeah,” I laughed, “Could you give me a ride back home?”

“Yeah,” She nodded, “But I think we should clean up in here first.”

Cleaning up turned out to be spraying the entire bedroom down with febreeze and some of the hallway outside of it.

I’m going to miss summer.

- - -

The next day Monica and I found ourselves at Office Depot picking up folders and notebooks and junk for school.

“Do you remember in elementary school-”

“Yes,” Monica cut me off nodding.

“I wasn’t finished,” I told her, “When we used to get excited about the new school year?”

“No,” She shook her head, and I almost laughed. “I never got excited about the school year.”

“Oh!” She spoke suddenly, “But my cousin-”

“The one you took the bong from?”

“Yes,” She nodded, “Anyway, she said that this kid got kicked out of her school last year,” She lowered her voice, “Apparently, he’s really violent, got into a lot of fights and stuff,” Her voice resumed it’s normal pitch, “Anyway, her friend told her that supposedly he’s coming to our school.”

“So?” I squinted at her.

“So,” She shrugged, “I just wanted to let you know.”

“What’s his name?” I sighed.

“She doesn’t know,” Mon shrugged, “She said everyone just called him ‘Blade’.”

“Why?” I laughed.

“I don’t know.”

“Was there a point to that story?”

“Not all stories have to have points. Some people just tell them for the heck of it.”

“Let’s check out,” I laughed, and we made our way to the deserted counters.