Blaze (boyxboy)

Chapter 3 (Part 1)

☆Blaze☽

Chapter 3 (Part 1):

Time is a funny thing. You sit in school and the seconds go by like hours. You can't make it go faster, and you can't plead with it to slow down.

Those were my morbid thoughts as I stared at the second hand on the clock that was perched on the vanity, except these seconds were flying by. I had never seen time go so fast. Suddenly I had been there staring at it for a minute. But it didn't feel like a minute. And then it was two. Two minutes of my life were gone, watching time.

And then I started to wonder, if I died right now, what would I see in those moments before my heart stopped? Hours studying, on Facebook hoping maybe I would have a notification or a message, family birthday parties? Those would be the 'greatest hits'. Or maybe, I would see those hours I lied awake in bed, or fighting with my brother, or switching schools because I had no friends in the sixth grade.

I instantly remembered why I was doing this in the first place. That was why. So when I was eighty and alone, thinking back on when I was young, I wouldn't be cursing myself out for spending all my time on the internet or on my phone; materialistic things that didn't matter in the grand scheme of life. I would be thinking about the friends I had, the crazy things we did, and all the trouble we got in for them. Now I had Beatle, Mi, Whiskey, and Trick and their wild antics to laugh about; stories to tell my kids and grandkids.

Plus, I'd already done this once before. And I was carrying less weed this time then the last. What was one more time? I could do this. I would do this, and they wouldn't kick me out of their group, and I would have stories to tell my children. It was that simple. I could and I would.

I took a deep breath and spared myself one last look in the mirror. My only thought was: Mom is going to kill me.

I shoved the bag of drugs into my backpack and put my hoodie on. I didn't pull it over my head though; I didn't want to draw attention to myself. I remembered Beatle's reassuring words when he called to tell me how much money I was collecting: It's weed, not cocaine.

That should have been reassuring, but it wasn't.

Then, I was out in the cool night air, and walking out to the meeting place. This time, there was no car waiting for me to make sure I didn't get killed- though they were probably only waiting to guarantee I didn't run off with their money. This time it was just me, Spencer, some money, and weed.

I saw the dim lights shining over the Quickie Mart parking lot up ahead, and a shadowed figure. Surprisingly, Spencer was early. As I got closer, I could see him checking his watch and tapping his foot impatiently. He looked up through the darkness after checking the time, and his glance caught me. Look cool.

Once I was standing next to him, I opened my backpack and pulled the bag out, handing it to him. He didn't test it like the other guy had; he simply stuffed it in his own bag and began rifling through his pockets. Eventually, his hand grasped a dark, leather wallet. He pulled out some money and practically tossed them at me. It wasn't enough, I knew that already, but I forced myself to thumb through them anyways and check.

"You're short," I forced out, I tried to sound tough but I'm sure he must have heard my voice quaver.

"Really? Beatle's changed the prices." Spencer frowned at me and his eyes narrowed. He sucked on his lower lip as I strained to find words, but I couldn't. I wanted to say it's not my fault, get your weed somewhere else; and you can pay, or you can deal with Trick, Mi, Whiskey, and Beatle all at the same time. However, none of those sentences came out. I just stood there with a dumb expression on my face and struggled not to show how scared I really was. It was just weed. Not cocaine.