Its been four days since the party. I'd gotten back without my dad ever knowing anything. After a normal weekend of sulking and going through my texts with Maya, as I found myself doing nearly every second I could, it was Monday.
Another week, another prank by the Vivienne twins. This time, I opened my locker and found a snake. I jumped back and screamed, following it with a string of muttered swears. Behind me, Elijah and Carla were recording everything while laughing.
They'd found out that I was deathly scared of snakes a couple months ago, turning the fake snake into their favourite prank to pull. I was just about to prepare for their usual comments and jokes when Logan came in, grabbed their phones, and threw them down to the ground.
"No recording other students at school," he says, imitating a teacher sarcastically. But neither I nor the twins miss the sharp edge in his voice. They stand there, surprise turning into utter disbelief, then anger. James swoops in.
"Before you start crying, please know that the teachers learning of a prank like this or any of the other ones you've pulled will get both of you suspended. Breaking two phones will get Logan suspended too, but they might be more tolerant of him since it was in defence of another student."
The twins are stunned into silence, glaring at me. It seems befriending Logan had multiple benefits, one of which being that the twins couldn't bother me anymore. The two of them pick up their cracked phones and walk away quickly, faces redder than the blood I'd drawn this weekend.
The memory flashes back. I'd found a small knife in the bathroom. Then, I'd cut a shallow slice across my forearm. I don't know why. I wanted to see if I still felt pain, since I've felt so numb lately.
I was slightly surprised when I saw the blood. It was normal human blood, red and hot. Human blood despite me always feeling like an alien. It did hurt. But I did like the adrenaline. And it made me forget about everything, focusing on the pain. And to me, I deserved this pain.
I don't know how I got this way. Maybe it was mom leaving and dad becoming distant and sad and paying attention only to his work and my grades. He stopped caring about my emotions, encouraging me to suppress. Men don't cry.
Maybe it was what happened afterwards. Dad's job made us move around a lot. I wouldn't stay in one school for more than a year. I used to be extraverted and social and talkative. Every new school I'd be desperate to make friends.
And I would. I'd become friends with everyone there. Then I'd leave. I would get every person's number and text them every day. They'd text back at first. But then they'd text less and less. Then they'd disappear. Either they just stop texting back, or they'd directly tell me they didn't want to be friends anymore and block me.
The end result was same. None of them were true friends. They just left me. Was I really that bad? A question I'd asked myself a million times, wondering why they all stopped talking to me. Eventually I just stopped trying to make friends. Became introverted and awkward and shy. It was the cause of my anxiety. And it made me clingy, desperate to be loved and scared of anyone who loved me leaving.
Weak. It made me weak. Real men weren't clingy or desperate or scared.
Of course, I knew the thing that pushed me over the edge was Maya. My dad got a permanent job here. I was quiet and quickly became the target of Elijah and Carla's bullying. But Maya was my light.
She was kind and empathetic and beautiful and truly seemed to care about me. She was trustworthy and a good listener. I emptied a lot of secrets into her. She was the only person I ever told about my mom. About my anxiety. About my dad. About my fears and all the people who left me.
I put up with everything that happened to me, just because I knew I'd see her again. Elijah and Carla could bully me. My dad could ignore me for weeks then yell at a bad grade. I could have a million anxiety attacks. But I'd push through to see her.
For once, it seemed somebody would stay forever. But I was a fool to think anyone could ever love me.
She seemed pained when she broke up with me. She told me she was overwhelmed by me and our relationship. That she loved me, but I was too clingy and desperate. That she cared for me, but needed a break from all the stress of being with me.
I begged her to stay, to reconsider. Told her I'd stop being clingy and desperate and let her have her space and not dump my problems on her. But with tears in her eyes, she rejected me. Just like everyone else, she rejected me.
Everyone leaves me. Everyone abandons me. I'm just unlovable, I guess. So broken that nobody would ever bother to fix me. Mom left. Every friend I made left. Maya left. Dad only tolerates me because I'm his son.
But now I had Logan. Someone with a life just as terrible as mine, yet he seems to be enjoying it. Maybe he'd save me.
I snap back to the moment. Logan is smirking, then comes over and pats me hard on the back. I struggle not to flinch, trying not to look weak.
"If those two ever give you trouble, tell me. I'll take care of them," he says, and I catch him cracking his knuckle.
"Don't hit them physically. I don't want you to get in trouble," I say, putting up a calm mask of indifference and an appreciative smile. He nods, but that dangerous smirk still lurks on his face.
The next week sucks, but a lot less than usual. Elijah and Carla give me glares and I swear to god they're the ones who keep stealing my pencils and glue, but other than that they stay away. I go to another party Logan invites me to, once again drinking. Its fine, right? It was fun to get drunk and forget everything. To let loose and relax. Plus, two parties hardly makes me a bad kid. I'm still better than most eleventh graders, who've likely gone to hundreds of parties by now.
Then I got another history test. My father made one thing clear: if I fail, the consequences would be ugly. I was walking to the class, dragging my feet. I'd studied for it, but I was still worried. Anxiety was a bitch.
I spot Logan gesturing me over to the boy's bathroom. I go over and he leads me in before smiling at me.
"You look a little stressed. It's the history test, isn't it?" It's more a statement than a question. I nod.
"My dad gave a whole ominous speech about bad consequences if I fail it," I choose nonchalance and a shrug as the mask to hide the true extent of my nervousness. Logan extends both his hands, revealing two pills.
"Red pill or blue pill?" He asks. They're both white. "Just kidding. Its Valium. It'll help you relax and calm down and get rid of any anxiety you have. Helps whenever I have a test."
The only drug I'd taken was the THC planted in the brownie. Granted, it did feel amazing and help me relax, but that didn't mean I wanted to do drugs. Real, illegal drugs.
"Sorry man, but I'd rather not take any drugs or anything. Wouldn't want to overdose or get sick. I'll be fine."
"You won't overdose from one pill. Valium isn't even the worst drug you could have. It'll just calm your nerves. You know, doctors prescribe this stuff. If the professionals say it's okay for their patients to have it, then why can't we?"
"Because it hasn't been prescribed to us," I reply, a little desperation seeping into my voice.
"They only have you come in and get that fancy paper so that they can charge you for the visit. Trust me, I've taken a million of these."
He had a point. Doctors did prescribe this, and one pill couldn't cause an overdose. And he says he takes them a lot, and he seems fine. Despite everything in his life, he's always smiling and laughing. Maybe it's because of these drugs. Maybe they're the answer.
Without thinking, I swipe one of the pills and put it in my mouth. With a little hesitation, I swallow. Logan smiles and punches my arm jokingly.
"That's my man. Everyone hesitates at first. But you'll get used to it. It'll kick in soon. It stays in your system for a while, so you'll stay relaxed the whole time." With that, he throws the other pill in his mouth a leaves.
By the time I arrive in class, I've sunk into a calm and relaxed state. Any worries about the test are gone. The teacher places the paper on my table. I go through the questions, answering each one. I feel drowsy, likely an effect of the drug, but a little tiredness in exchange for no more anxiety is a good trade.
Halfway through the test though, my memory starts to falter. It feels like the drug stripped away not only the anxiety, but any worry or thought or memory in my brain. I push through, my confidence staying strong an boosted by the two sided sword that was Valium.
When I'm finished, I turn in my paper and try to evaluate how I'd done. But the cloud in my head hadn't cleared, keeping the anxiety away but also any straight thought. I didn't worry much though. I'd be fine.
With the drugs I'd be fine. I feel so relaxed. So free. So in control of everything. Why hadn't I taken these before? They're everything I've needed since mom left. After class I spot Logan and pull him to the side.
"I need more of these," I say, not thinking clearly.
"Told ya they're awesome. I'll hook you up with the plug if you want. For Valium it's around five to ten dollars for a pill. If you're looking for Xanax which is even better than Valium, it'll be ten to twenty. Whatever you need, the plug can provide."
To me his words are just words, the prices just numbers. Anything. Anything for this feeling of freedom. For these moments of relaxation and forgetfulness. Anything to be anyone but myself.