My Drug, Intoxicated

Blake

Stella was perfect. She had been my girlfriend for three months today. I can hardly believe that I met her at the end of freshmen year and we'd been together with no fighting whatsoever. She was amazing. Her brown hair was long and curly and she always had perfect make-up. I'm not a superficial kind of guy usually but believe me, this was a fifteen year old with the body of a moviestar. I never thought that I could get someone as pretty and popular as her. I guess it's true what they say. Every good girl likes a bad boy.

I don't think Danny likes her. I'm suspecting it's because she's too preppy and bubbly for him. Now that I think about it he has seemed a little depressed lately. Maybe it's because his mom married that guy; the drug-dealer, the coke addict. He never did approve of her "habits." It's sad to have to watch your best friend take care of his parent.

Danny is my best friend. Maybe that sounds a little queer but we've been through everything together. Whenever my parents fought, he would take me away and he'd buy me sugary candies and we'd go to the carnival and just spin around and around and around. When I cut myself in seventh grade, Danny would cut his wrist too so I wouldn't have to do it alone. In eighth grade he bought me ice cream when my first girlfriend broke up with me. When my mom died at the beginning of ninth grade he held me for hours as I cried. He was my lifesaver whenever I needed him.

I've never seen Danny too emotional. Yes, he does have his moments but those are usually in private. I've never seen him have bouts of public emotion. Yet he was caring, and kind to anybody we knew. If you showed him respect, he was the best friend anyone could ever ask for. It was as if we were two halves of one whole. I was the light and he was the dark. He was my shadow and I was his sun. You couldn't have one without the other.

Danny

Blake and I had fourth period French together. The teacher, Mr. Wood, droned on and on about the French Revolution. I stole a glance at Blake and noticed he was practically sleeping. He was truly beautiful. Not handsome. Beautiful. Almost in a girly way. His medium-length sandy blonde hair swept across his face like a razor shading his golden eyes that were accented by even, black eyeliner. His cheekbones were high and aristocratic and his full lips were in a pout. He was a Greek god carved out of marble.

As if sensing I was studying him, he woke up and glanced over at me. He instantly smirked. I smiled back. The smirk always meant something was coming; something usually not good for people other than him. I heard it before I saw it. I looked up front and the teachers face was livid.

"Blake, would you like to explain to me what that noise from your bag was?" He gritted out through clenched teeth.

"Well sir," he drawled. "I would love to but I really have no idea what is was." His face donned an innocent mask.

"Really? Then why is there a chicken's head poking out?" His face had taken on an odd shade of violent purple.

"Really, a chicken?" Blake leaned over and peaked in to his bag. "I wonder how it got in there. Maybe I should let it out."

"No—" The teacher was cut off as Blake opened the book bag and the chicken started to flap about the room and land on the students heads. It headed for the open door. Mr. Wood dived to shut it but to no avail. All he did was belly-flop onto the floor and slam his head into the door. The chicken was free.

By lunch time everyone had known what Blake did. I guess what happened was that the chicken had flown through over ten classrooms plus the study hall and ended up landing on the principal's toupee. He was not very happy. Blake was called to the office as soon as lunch started.

"Hey Danny," someone said. I looked up. It was Stella, Blake's "love".

"Oh. Hey Stella. You want to sit down?" I don't really like her but I try to be nice to her on account of Blake.

"Oh. No thanks." She looked down at the chair I had offered her as if it was contaminated. "I was going to sit with my friends today because Blake is still in the office. I was just wondering—"

"Yes?" I was extremely curious about what she wanted to know.

"What's Blake's favorite color 'cause I was going to buy him a gift for his birthday Saturday and I really couldn't remember what it was and I want to get him something good because it's our anniversary too and I just didn’t kn—"

"Stella, stop rambling. His favorite color is black. Lemme think about this. He wears black clothes everyday, he has black eyeliner on practically every day, and his room is black. I was thinking this was kind of a no-brainer."

"God Danny, you don't have to be so mean. I was just wondering." She stormed off in a huff over to her cheerleading friends. I shook my head. What was wrong with her? Is she really that stupid? Seriously, she is a blonde joke in the making and she's not even blonde. I shrugged and put my head down to sleep.