The basketball diaries - Leonardo DiCaprio fanfic

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Of course I had to post today cus it's Jim Carroll's BIRTHDAY, 1 of august!!! The pic above is the real Jim Carroll at about 16 years old, playing High School basketball.

JIM

It was a the coldest februari morning I'd ever witnessed. Februari 6, 1965. I got up that morning, after shooting almost $45 dollars worth of dope the day before and having not really gotten fucked up. This was the problem with heroin. After awhile it just didn't seem to get you high. 

As the afternoon turned into evening I was looking to cop. I hooked up with a friend from Mott Haven, Bronx, named George who was a football player at Cardinal Hayes. We wandered around and heard everything was garbage. We were just about to cop when Mickey showed up. He said that we HAD to cop down on 180th. I had 16 bucks, enough for 8 bags.

So up we go to the skylight on the roof of George's building up on 186th street. We put out the water, the cooker, the works and the dope. Mickey snorts his bag as I cook up. It cooks up really clean, and I draw it up. I get a hit right away and shoot it in and only boot it once. I take the needle out and fucking nothing! 

This is what we called a creeper. From lots of dope, the rush you felt was mainly from the quinine that the dope was cut with. So I waited a second and was about to tell them I was going to do another 2 bags when all of a sudden I started to feel it. It started in the back of the throat, where lots of rushes do start. Started to spread through my body when I motherfucking KNEW I was going to go out. Going out was overdosing. 

I'd over dosed before so I knew what was happening but this was much more intense. Much, much more intense. I felt if I got out to the roof top and got some air, I could keep myself from ODing. So I told everyone to move the dope and works cause I needed air and started to walk up the flight of stairs to the rooftop. I took one step and that was the last thing I remembered.

Next thing I know, I'm being given last rites by a priest and being wheeled into an operating room, where I lost conciousness again. I woke up awhile later, days later actually. My mom was in the room with me. I had no idea what had happened. 

My mom showed me a mirror, my blonde hair was caked in blood, my face on the left side was one solid scab. My left arm was swollen and hurt like a bitch. My neck on the leftside was also swollen. It looked like I was worked over by a couple of guys and thats exactly what happened to me. I called Mickey to find out what happened and the motherfucker gave me all the details.

It seems after I told them to move everything and started walking up the stairs I had actually made it up the stairs. They said I walked up the stairs, got the door to the roof and stood there and swayed for a minute or two before falling flat on my face. HARD. Luckily I wasn't too close to the edge of the roof or I'd have fallen off.

So my friends, being true dope fiends, got off before coming to my aid. Which didn't help because they were soon almost as high as me. First they tried to massage my heart by rubbing my back as my face rubbed on the tar paper covered roof. The tarpaper had small rocks in it, I guess for traction so it looked like sandpaper. It also ACTED like sandpaper with the skin on my face, that was soon all rubbed off. 

Then Mickey being the least high pulled me up and started to slap me around, slaps in the face will bring people out of a light overdose, but I was beyond that. As Mickey got more frustrated he started to punch me in the face and neck and probably if anything knocked me further into unconsciousness.

Next, people, including myself always heard that mainlining salt into a persons veins would neutralize the dope. Well this was just junkie lore, and it was really hard to get a hit in a vein of someone that has taken a real overdose because the heartbeat and blood pressure was so low. So Mickey got so frustrated he just skin popped the salt all over my upper arm. 

Then Neutron arrived. He took one look at me and went to call 911. When the cops arrived, they found me, all beaten up. They also called my parents and told them where and how they found me, when the cops got there they searched me for drugs, I guess, and found my loot from days of heists. So one of the first things they told my parents was that I was a burglar. Finally they got me to the hospital, got me into intensive care and worked on me. 

....

And here I have Laura in front of me; eyes closed and mouth slightly ajar. She is hanging slack in my arms, her pink lips are turning a cold shade of blue. She is overdosing. 

I start by gently slapping her face but as it doesn't help I do my best to rub her chest with my trembling hands.

"Fuck Laura, wake up." 

I must have been too panicked to realize how loud I'm acting because suddenly my mom is knocking on my door.

"Jimmie? What are you doing in there? You have to come to the front door!" she yells.

"Now's not a good time ma'!" I scream back.

"But what's going on in there?" she asks. "James Dennis Carroll, you answer me now!"

I'm shaking with adrenaline and can barely look straight with the anger rushing through my body. With cusses spitting out from my mouth I jump out of bed, my jeans hanging loose on my hips. Without a doubt I grab the glass of water from my nightstand and splash the content over Laura's face.

She comes back in a matter of seconds, shooting up in the bed with eyes large in panic. 

"You're okay, you're okay." I repeat as she keeps hyperventilating. 

I hold a finger over my mouth and hush repeatedly, indicating her to shut the fuck up because she's being loud as hell. I figure the only way to keep her quiet is to press my palm over her mouth so that's exactly what I do. 

"Jim, we're coming in now!" mom shouts.

We?

I only have a few seconds to think this through. Either it's my brother mom is joined by and I don't really give a shit over what he sees. If it's my dad and mother, then that would be awkward as hell.

"Cover yourself." I spit to Laura who's still caught up in her own panic. 

The door swings open and I freeze where I'm standing next to the bed, shirtless, only my jeans and necklace on; my palm still held over Laura's mouth. She's still completely naked but is doing a half attempt at covering herself with the blanket.

What appears by the door is worse than any scenario I ever could have imagined. Next to my mom is fucking Aaliyah whose jaw goes slack at the sight of Laura and I.

Jim's memory in this chapter is not taken from his diary but from stories I've read from Dennis Driscoll who grew up in Inwood when Jim did. But it very much resembles Jim's own situation. 

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