Different colored minds

Caught red handed

STEVEN POV

I'm sitting in the back of the history classroom. My teacher's voice Fades in and out of my consciousness. I push my pencil into the notebook paper. There is a football game this Friday and with that another party. But unlike myself from before, I don't want a girl. I don't want to be with the team. I can't smoke weed. And no matter how hard I try I can't focus on what my teacher is saying. Which means no matter how much I don't want it to be true, I'm going to fail.
I cover my face with my hands. It takes so much for me to pass when I have the Will power to do so. But right now This school has nothing for me. All of my friends will graduate and I will be left behind. I will be left alone. Dragged back a year by my own inability to concentrate. Even if I can't do anything to change it. Maybe I'll just go for my GED.

I hear the bell in the background. I look down at the notebook in front of me. Not a single word is written in it from the entire class. I did it again. I cover my face with my hands. I'm so overwhelmed. This is going to be harder than I thought. But I know I can do this. I have to do this. I need to get out.
I pick up my notebook and my backpack, then step out of the door.
I know that I have to figure out how to survive without weed. It is a lot harder to do a lot of things though. And now that I know what it's like to live with life being easier, it makes living this way so much harder.
It's a sacrifice to be sure, but I know it's what I have to do.
I step through the doorway and into the hallway. I have no other option than to succeed.
"Steven Harper you are needed in the front office," I freeze. That's my name. Why is my name being called over the speaker? I can't help but shiver. This can't be good.
I turn around and storm towards the office, unsure of what's to come.
But the second I step through the door and look at the principal's desk, I understand. There's a video of me being handed soemthing, and I already know what's to come. The snitch snitched again. The principle sits behind the desk leaning back in his chair, his arms laced over his chest. And to the side of his desk sits two chairs filled with my mom and in the other my dad.
"Im sure you know why you're here," His voice is deep and sounds as clear as wind chimes.
I don't know what to say. I don't have any way to defend myself. I don't have any way to make it through. My fists close briefly as I inhale sharply.
My mom's eyes are tearing up and I can tell deep within my father's eyes this will be a long conversation later.
The principal looks at me.
"You could get in a lot of legal trouble for this, but since I'm not in the mood to send one of my students to jail I would rather suspend you. On the condition you tell me who your dealer is." My fists clench tighter.
I know the guy who deals to me is a good guy. He works hard, got me into smoking weed because he said it helped him concentrate so much he preferred it to anything else. He always goes to class, always does his homework, he doesn't deserve to get caught for it.

"Steven? What do you have to say to the principal?" My father's dark angry voice asks.

"I'm sorry sir, I never got his name."

"And a description?"

"He was always covering his face."

"I see," I hear the creaking of the chairs. I'm not looking up, I keep my eyes to the floor instead. This can't be good. No matter what happens, this will not end well.

"You are suspended for a week. Your classes will be done online during that time. You will be cut from the team. And, I expect that I will never see something like this again, or I will be reaching out to the officials."

And with that, my internal hell ignites.

My heart is going too fast. Joe would know what to do but I don't have joe in my life anymore. He's know who the snitch is. My mind boils with potential suspects. My mind is brewing. I wonder if other members of the team were caught? The thought makes me gulp. I feel like commenting and asking but my parents are busy talking to the principal. My throat is going dry. There's a lump now lodged down it. Men don't cry. Men don't fail. Men can't be this way. I clench my fists. I know the talk.

My dad will comment on how one day I'll have kids. How I'm teaching them how I want them to see me. That I'm risking my wife's health and happiness. That I'm risking my future over a couple grams but they don't understand. They can't understand what my life is like. They are never there for that. Never there to ask me how I'm taking being the unwanted captain. How I'm going to get through school now that I can't even get a sentence on paper. They'll say I should ask for help but what's the point?
I know what asking for help from my parents entails. It's never free.
My fists clench and my knee bounced and my head is a mess and I have nothing to calm me down. I feel like a gun waiting to go off. Like I'm not safe enough to survive like this. Like I can't. I keep blinking in time with everyone else. I have to make it out alive.