Unwritten Pages

It's just too much.

I have to give the bag of Meth back to Avery. I'm not sure where I'll find him, though I'm sure he'll be hanging around Chris's house...or Arianna's house. I'm sure he's trying to find out where she lives.

Every time I look at the bag of drugs, I have an urge to take them. Just get high and forget the world around me. It can't hurt, a voice says, it's just once. Just one time. It won't hurt. You need it.

But I know that it will hurt. I had gotten addicted to weed so easily. The first few shots made me calm instead of the usual high people had gotten. It helped me think and get through my school work and I had thought it was good for me. But after a few more joints, I started to get high off it. The feeling of high was so wonderful. I still remember it.

I know that if I take Meth, the high will be more intense, but my addiction will be intense too. I don't want that to happen. God, I don't want to go to therapy all over again. I don't want to sit in some stupid room while a therapist tries to coax answers out of me.

It's been a full day since Desiree has left. With each passing second, I find myself closer to just giving myself up.

I spot Chris hanging out in his front yard again. This time, he's with a bunch of (I have to admit) good-looking girls. I can't hear what he's saying, though I know he's making a fool of himself. I want to take the bag of Meth and throw it at Chris, but I doubt that he'll give it back to Avery. Meth can be quite expensive and even though I'm not involved with drug dealing anymore, the thought of Chris getting free Meth makes me slightly angry. I had to pay for mine in ninth grade.

The girls follow Chris into his house. I scrunch up my nose. What are they going to do? Have a threesome? No, more than that. Actually, I don't even want to imagine it. I turn my head away from the window. I don't need to know what goes on in Chris's house. I definitely don't need to know that.

If Chris is bringing random street girls in his house, then I doubt that Avery's in there. Even though Chris and I have always disliked each other, my other friends seem to find Chris the funniest person on the planet. We use to hang out a lot at his place. He only brought girls (or Faithella) in when we weren't around.

I stuff the bag into my shorts pocket. Luckily, Avery hasn't stuffed the bag until it was full so it doesn't look conspicuous.

I know I need to give this back now. Or at least—I should return without the bag. As long as I don't throw it away near my house, no one will know I had this. No one except ex-friends and my girlfriend.

Though I feel slightly reluctant to throw it away. Even though it had been a 'free' sample, it isn't actually free at all. I don't like the thought of throwing all this away. It feels like throwing free money away and that doesn't sit well with me.

I'm not exactly sure where Avery is, but I think he's in that alleyway that we smoked in. Or—I use to smoke in. I still see my ex-friends there when I walk past. Though we never really acknowledge each other anymore. They use to insult me because I ditched them. But really, they were the ones who left me out there by myself. If anyone ditched anyone, it was them.

The alleyway isn't far from school. Though it's far from my house. Luckily, I bought some my bus pass with me. I also have my identity card with me too so I don't have to worry.

I leave the house. My parents aren't home again. Personally, I think that they should have been keeping a closer watch on me. If I were a parent with a kid with a history like myself, I would definitely keep a watch on them. Winter...died. And some people think I felt obligated to stop with the drugs because of her. But now that she's gone, people will think I won't feel bound anymore.

And I know that if I hold on to this bag any longer, I'm going to be a drug addict again. Or at least—I'll be begging Faithella and Avery for more. I don't want that happening. Faithella expects that to happen.

I head to the bus stop and wait. There's a few people here already so I assume the bus will come by shortly. At least I don't have to wait half-an-hour for the bus to come.

While I'm waiting, I check my phone. Nothing from Desiree. Not even one text. Nothing from Arianna either. Arianna usually texts me once a week. The week has flown by with nothing from Arianna. I wonder if Arianna's feeling a bit down because of Avery.

“That's a pretty phone you've got there.”

I almost jump. Mainly because the voice is right beside my ear. I slip my phone back into the pocket without the bag of Meth. Suddenly, thinking about the bag makes me realize that I have an illegal substance on me.

That causes me to panic.

Does the bus have sensors for things like this? Can the police find out easily that I have a bag of drugs in my pocket? If they find out—how will I prove that I'm innocent? They can assume that I'm a dealer—

No, I tell myself, you're overreacting. Calm down. The bus doesn't have sensors like that. You're being stupid, Andrew. Quit acting like an idiot.

I look over at the person who has spoken to me. Not to be sexist, but if I had been a woman, I would have thought that the person who had talked to me was going to rape me.

It's a middle-aged man who looks like he's approaching old age. He's smiling, his front teeth yellow and not alined. There's an unpleasant odour coming off him. He's shorter than me and his white clothes are stained with something brown. He has messy grey hair and a bald spot.

He looks exactly like he had stepped out of the rapist category. If Arianna had seen him, I have no doubt that she would have stopped any snarky reply that had been about to come out of her mouth.

But I'm not Arianna and he can't rape me. I'm sure I can easily overpower him if he tried to kidnap me for ransom or whatever. But maybe he'll hold a knife to my neck and ask me to hand over the phone. When I was younger, my parents had told me that it had happened.

But he doesn't have a knife and there are other people at this bus stop. I doubt that he'll do anything.

“Yes,” I reply, “it's a nice phone.”

“You see,” the man said, “I wanted to call my wife to pick me up.” As if you have a wife, looking like that. “I left my phone at home. Can I use yours?” He looks like he thinks I'll give in easily.

I don't want to help him. But at the same time, I feel slightly bad about it. Though from the looks of it, he can be lying.

I don't want him running off with my phone. “Sorry,” I tell him. “My battery is low.”

He gives me a look of, what I assume to be a look of hopelessness. Though I feel slightly bad, I don't want to take any chances.

I'm in luck. Not even a minute after the man has asked me for my phone, the bus appears. I board on the bus with the few other people who is waiting by the same bus stop. The man doesn't board the bus. Now, I'm wondering if I should have let him used my phone. He seems to be sincere. But then again, if I had lent it to him, I wouldn't be able to get on the bus right now.

It takes around half-an-hour to get to school in this bus. The alleyway that I use to hang around is a few minutes walk from the school.

With nothing else to do, I stare out the window. I wonder if anyone can see the bag of Meth. I wonder if I'm conspicuous. I don't want to be obvious so I don't look at my pockets at all. I pretend that there's no illegal substance in my pocket. Hopefully, no one will notice. Why would they notice? I'm not even trying to draw attention to it...

No, I shouldn't think about it anymore. I'll look guilty somehow and I don't want that to happen. How would I ever explain anything if someone caught me? I can't let myself give it away.

To take my mind off of the illegal substance burning an imaginary hole in my pocket, I think about where Avery would be if he isn't in that alleyway. He could be at home, but that doesn't seem very likely.

After a while, my stop is called over the monotonous announcer system. The bus stops and I leave, looking back at my seat to make sure that the bag hasn't fallen out of my pocket and onto the seat. Luckily, the seat is bare so I don't have to worry about that.

It feels weird not to go to school after I've gotten off the bus. Usually, I only get off at this stop when I need to get to school. It feels odd to walk right pass the looming brick building. Now that it's summer, it looks almost abandoned. There's no one on school property... No, wait. There's a man in black standing by himself in the yard but otherwise, there's no one else.

I hurry along away from school to get to my destination. It takes a few minutes to get there. Once I see the alleyway, I think about ninth grade. I feel like I've stepped back in time and I'm going meet with my ex-friends here.

I shake that thought out of my head, not wanting to relive ninth grade over again. Those days are over. Forever, hopefully.

I step in the dark alleyway which is between two small family-owned stores. The alleyway is basically a place where the stores dump their garbage. There's horrible odour in the air and I cover my nose and silently gag. On some days, the garbage would smell especially bad. Today was one of those days.

Also, the smell of garbage is mingled with the smell of drugs. Particularly weed. I know that smell anywhere. I frown, knowing that I smelled like that once. It's a wonder how Winter had put up with me those days...

No, I tell myself. Stop thinking about Winter. You have something to do. I push any thoughts of Winter out of my mind. Instead, I focus my eyes on the setting around me. What I see doesn't surprise me.

Avery is smoking another joint in the corner. It relieves me to see him. But at the same time, I don't really want to see him. A bunch of my other ex-friends and some other guys I don't know are gambling in another corner.

No one sees me. Or if they do—they're too stoned or they don't care enough to say anything. Avery focuses his eyes on me for a moment and they shift back to focus on the joint that he's currently smoking.

I approach Avery. Some of the guys gambling eyes me but then they look away as they continue. “Avery,” I say monotonously. He looks up at me and gives me a wide smile.

“Hey dude!” He slurs on purpose. “You want more Meth? I knew you'd come back!” He gives me a silly smile. “You were always the odd one!” he adds. “Instead of making you high, weed actually made you calm!”

“Drugs have different effects on everyone,” I say. I take the bag of Meth and throw it on the floor in front of Avery. “I don't want this. Take it.”

Avery laughs. “You're just giving it back to me because you're scared,” he says. “Scared that you'll come back to us. Where you belong.”

I twitch a bit. He knows me. Of course he does. “I don't belong here,” I say finally before turning and leaving. No one tries to stop me. I don't belong here anymore.