our last summer

in which two drug addicts meet

The next day. Eight AM. Elliot Thornton's house. He's laughing like he's never laughed before. It's only eight in the morning but he's been sipping something red from a plastic bottle since 6:30 am, and even a fool would know it's not water. "Keeps me warm," he says with a lazy smile. "It's below zero, dude."

He stole the lean from Brandon's on the way out of his house this morning, grabbing a water bottle and emptying the contents to pour lean and sprite into it. Alina was just staring at him silently-

Until she said, "So Brandon wasn't joking about the drugs."

He smiled at her lopsidedly. "Drugs are nothing to joke about, missy." He laughed at the frown forming on her face. "It's okay, it just makes me feel warm inside."

It's what he repeats to his sister now when she comes out of their house to watch him make a fool of himself. "It makes me feel warm inside."

Irritation is coming out in her voice."If mom sees you-"

"If mom sees me? Em. Come on." He laughs again, taking another sloppy drink from his bottle.

She sighs, shaking her head.

"What?" he asks, noticing her upset frown.

"It's not the time for this.." Emily has a sad look on her face now, her voice having dropped to a whisper. She's pleading with him.

He scoffs, rolling his eyes at his sister. "And? So what?" he retorts. He's sitting on the edge of the porch balcony, swinging his legs back and forth like an angry little kid. He blows his black hair out of his face, out of his eyes. His face is flushed pink, and his blue eyes are so dilated they're not even blue anymore. He doesn't dare look at his sister. He knows he's hurt her, but if you look at it this way, she's hurting herself more, hoping and dreaming for a family she can never have.

She and Tommy, their older brother, are the only hope this family has at this point. Mom's too into it, and he's too out of it. Em and Tommy better escape before they fall into the same trap.

Emily lets out an angry huff, turning to go back into the house. He watches her slam the door shut. He turns to the front again, kicking his legs harder against the porch. He drinks the last drops before throwing the bottle across the porch to the little trash can, where it lands with a thud. "He shoots, he scores!" he laughs, leaning back so far he falls down, his ass hitting the ground. He curses.

"What's with the lean on Saturday morning, little bro?"

A boy is taking a seat on the porch swing, crossing his feet. He looks exactly like the little drunk, except sober, bright eyed. The same blue eyes, sloping nose, perfect cupid's bow.

The boy picks himself up off the ground, sitting back on the balcony. "Did Em send you out here?"

"You know she didn't."

"What do you want, Tommy?"

"I want to know what's going on with lean on Saturday morning," Tommy replies, raising his brow. "You can't even stay sober for your little sister on the weekend?"

"It's not about her," he says, frustrated. "You and mom always make it about her."

"What's it about then?"

"Keeps me warm," he murmurs, a soft drink smile playing at his lips.

"It's pretty hot out, dude. One hundred degrees, yes?"

"No," he replies. "Inside. It makes me feel warm inside."

Tommy sighs. He's been trying for almost two years to get his little brother off of lean, purp, sizzurp, whatever you want to call it. He's gone to school high, drunk, not enough to draw attention to it from admin, but enough so that little Emily had to get in the driver's seat and drive for miles home because he can barely keep his eyes open. And it would be one thing if cough syrup was the only thing if cough syrup was all the middle child is taking, but most often it's not. He'll dissolve anything in there-- xanax, adderall, sleeping pills. Most often it's adderall, because he needs that jump, that burst of energy.