Increase the Medication

Welcome to Helleville

"Faye, get your ass out of bed! You're going to be late for your first day of school!" mom called up the stairs.

I groaned and tugged the covers off my body wearily. I hated this new town, and I most certainly didn't want to start at a new school. I wasn't particularly frightened about fitting in, just frightened about being shoved into lockers again.

"I'm going!" I yelled back.

Glancing at the digital clock on my nightstand, I sighed and grabbed my outfit off my computer desk chair, which consisted of dark denim skinny jeans, a plain black tank top, and a pair of black Vans. I stumbled sleepily into the bathroom and ran a hand through my long-ish, messy brown hair.

I needed drugs.

I rummaged through my nightstand drawer until I found my yellow bowl and a film canister full of weed. I packed a bowl and walked over to my window, opening it and then sparking the bowl.

I smoked it down until it was cashed, then tapped the ash onto the window sill and ran back to the bathroom, putting the bowl and weed back on the way.

I scrubbed my teeth with my new toothbrush and spit out the bubbles, smiling at myself with my façade of a face. I added some red lipstick to my lips before putting my contacts in.

Grabbing my battered green book bag semi-covered in pins and patches, I shrugged into an oversized red flannel hanging from my bedpost. It had been my dad's. I ran downstairs, waving goodbye to mom, who ignored me. I ran out the door, heading for school which was only about two blocks away.

Kids were filing in from every direction as I pushed my way through the insane mosh pit. "Move, move, move," I mumbled about several hundred times.

I walked into the main office and strutted up to the secretary's desk.

"Hello, dear," she said, her fingers clacking away at her keyboard.

She paused and looked up at me.

"I'm here for my schedule. My.. mom enrolled me two weeks ago," I told her.

Oh god. What if she knew I was high? Would she call the cops? Oh god. Ohgodohgodohgod. She knew. She definitely knew. I was going to jail for smoking a bowl before school. Fuckin' hell.

The name on the tag on her desk said Ms. Apple. "Sure thing, let me get you that schedule. Your name, sweetheart?" Ms. Apple asked, surfing through a bunch of papers.

"Fay- Faith Aubrey Truitt. My mother is Olivia," I replied nervously.

Maybe she didn't know I was high.

"Here you are, dear," she smiled, handing me a paper. The schedule read:

Period 1: U.S History with Ms. Stephanie Arena. ROOM 102, Days 1-6.

Period 2/homeroom: Chemistry with Mrs. Joy Alfano. ROOM 109, Days 1-6.

Period 3: English 11 with Ms. Joanne DeLange-Russo. ROOM 204, Days 1-6.

Period 4: Algebra with Mrs. Annamaria Contella. ROOM 132, Days 1-6.

Period 5: Lunch with supervising teacher. CAFETERIA, Days 1-6.

Period 6/7: Study Hall with Mr. Anthony Gotto. CONCERT HALL, Days 1-6.

Period 8: Study Hall with Mr. John Dubuque. ROOM 210, Days 1, 3, 5.

Period 8: Physical Education with Mr. Glen Borgenicht. GYMNASIUM, Days 2, 4, 6.

Period 9: Spanish 3 with Mrs. Michele Robson. ROOM 300, Days 1, 3, 5.

Period 9: Study Hall with Mr. Brian Sapinski. THEATRE, Days 2, 4, 6.

Period 10: Art with Ms. Tatiana Ryjouk. ROOM 104, Days 1-6.

It showed how "motivated" I was to graduate. I hated high school, and had failed algebra twice already. I clamped the schedule tightly in my hand as I made my way out into the hallway. Ms. Apple had also given me a scrap of paper with my locker number and combination on it.

"57," I muttered to myself, searching for it. The combination was 10-00-22. I twisted the lock around to the numbers until it opened. That was a chore itself because I kept doing it backwards. Drugs, man.

I took out the things from my bag for my afternoon classes, setting them inside the dented locker. Once I had everything I needed for now, I began walking as if I knew where I was going. Somebody ran into me as I was searching for the U.S History classroom.

"Watch where you're going!" I hissed, pulling at my flannel nervously.

"Sorry," the boy apologised, scanning me with his brown eyes.

His hair was messy and black, and slightly greasy. He was wearing black skinny jeans and a Batman shirt that was obviously too big for him.

He grinned. "You're fuckin' baked."

"Can you tell me where the U.S is?" I asked, taking advantage of the situation and ignoring his comment.

"You're in the U.S, beautiful. But the history classroom? Down the hall to the left," he laughed.

I nodded and ran off that way. There were a few empty seats, and I had my eyes on the one in the back specifically, but I had to introduce myself to the teacher and class first.

"Um, Ms. Arena? I'm Faith," I said nervously.

She glanced up from her book, her sunken yellow eyes glimmering. I could tell already she was a prick. Yellow eyes always belonged to assholes.

"Ah, yes, hello. You must be the student from Florida, am I correct?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Please, take the seat in the back next to Mr. Iero."

Good, I was headed there anyway. I turned around and walked to where he had told me to sit. Apparantly, Mr. Iero was the boy who had run into me earlier.

"I think you'll like it here," he whispered.

"Just leave me alone," I mumbled, not wanting to be bothered while I was high.

"Just sleep off the high, beautiful," Mr. Iero said.

I put my head down and did exactly that.