The Cascading Waves of Caden Lee

03

CADEN LEE

I feel good. Really good. My head floats somewhere outside of my body and my half-lidded eyes flicker shut every few seconds. My limbs feel as if they're jello on the plastic school chair, and I don't think I've felt this relaxed in a long, long time.

My book sits on my desk, opened to page 211 but untouched as the teacher reads it aloud. I don't like this book, I've never really liked reading class-mandated books. This is no exception. But when I would usually be bored out of my mind, I find myself entranced with the printed words on the page, the font, my mind switches directions rapidly and suddenly I'm wondering how printing ink is made. I don't think anyone notices a difference in my body language, but that doesn't stop my heart from beating rapidly and my heart dropping every time I see a pair of eyes flicker in my direction.

Do they know what I'm on? Will I get in trouble? My breath catches in my throat and a weird sensation emerges, breaking the panic in my bones and replacing it with a whole other feeling. The yellow fluorescent light flickering above me seems to amplify, the feeling of my hoodie pressing against my skin is intense, and the colors around me become more vivid. The world swirls and blurs with the movement of my eyes.

Has the world always looked this way?

Before I can answer that question for myself, my stomach growls loudly, and my classmates seated near me look at me once more. I'm overcome with hunger, and I find myself wishing I had money for the vending machine. The clock ticks above the classroom door, 15 minutes till class is over, and my lips tilt up into a smile once I register that fact.

I wish I had found out about how good this feels earlier. The thing I hate the most has transformed into something entirely new. I don't find myself dreading the next class, or impatiently looking at the clock every few seconds, but I find myself gazing back towards my open book, and I find myself reading it. For once, it's sorta interesting.

The last 15 minutes pass by in a breeze, and I stare at my feet in order to walk straight as I exit the classroom door, making my way to my next class.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

It's fading. I can feel the bone-deep ache engulfing me and my dry, cotton-tongued mouth as the effects simmer down. I know I shouldn't feel as disappointed as I am, but the weed truly did make class pass by in almost a dream-like trance. It felt good to be free for a few hours.

But I'm stuck again. And no matter how much water I drink my mouth is still uncomfortably dry. The plus side is that it's the last class of the day and I can go home soon. Luckily, the bell rings only a few minutes later, and I sluggishly pack my bag and Toss it over my right shoulder. The hallway is packed with students, and a few people from the team tousle my hair and pat my shoulder as I pass them.

Basketball season is coming to an end soon, it being February and all. Every time I think about that I feel a deep, dark ache pulse inside my chest, so I try to ignore it most of the time. I ride the bus home today, and I've ridden it so long I'm on autopilot the whole way home. The minute the bus comes to a stop and I spot the park bench on the corner of the block I've come so used to seeing, I'm up and out of my seat, stumbling down the aisle and gripping the sides of the bus seats in order to not fall.

Walking seems so much harder, my body seems to be working to its limits, and the hunger in my stomach pokes and prods at my gut. Even with the bag of Doritos I bought from the vending machine I'm still starving. The knifes in my stomach increase significantly as I pull open my front door and let it fall shut behind me. The fridge is the throne, and I'm aiming for the crown.

Nothing nor no-one stops me as I grab the jarred chip dip and Family-Size sour cream and onion Lay's, and by the next 10 minutes, I sit in a bed of empty wrappers and scraped-clean jars.

I finally feel full.