The Boy Who Just Wanted to Get it Right

Lighted Cigarettes, Lighted Lies

Teresa never found out what happened to those pills. But the next day she found herself in the principal's office. Someone put weed in her makeup bag and in her locker.
"I swear to god I didn't put that there! It's not mine!" she cried.
"Your act would be a bit more believable, Miss Williams, had you not been caught with possession of drugs before," the principal said.

Little fourteen-year-old Teresa ran down the street in the dark. Her jacket was so old it couldn't even cover her chest, her jeans so small they didn't cover her ankles. Her braids blew in the rush of air flowing past her head. J had given her specific orders. "Go to the high school and give this to Mark. If he doesn't give you the right amount of money, that's on you. So make damn sure I get the exact right amount," his nicotine-stained breath far too close to her face. She nodded before she ran from the filthy park restroom. She knew the procedure by now. She had been doing this for a while. One of them leaves and the other waits several minutes. She gives whoever whatever and gets an exact amount of money. No change, no refunds, and no backing out. She may have not been very strong or intimidating, but she had her ways. Her mom was doing well. They were almost stable enough to live without Teresa doing such illegal things. She gave Mark the drugs behind the school. He handed her money and she counted.
"That's not the right amount."
"Yes, it is. Get lost, kid."
"I know the correct amount, so you better fucking give it to me."
"Why? So you can go buy more lollipops and hair bows?"
"You don't know a thing about me, so don't make me teach you." Mark grabbed her by the shirt.
"Listen here you ungrateful twat, this is what I have. If you want more I can give you a handy fist in the face." Teresa snatched the drugs from his hand. Surprised, he let go of her.
"Give me that!" he yelled after her, but she had already started running. Down the street she went, wind rushing past her face. She hid in an alley, waiting to make sure she was safe. Before she went to check, three people walked towards her.
"Hey, kid."
"Give us the money and the drugs."
"No! I need it!" One of them grabbed her upper arms. She bent her knees and shot up, smashing their nose with the top of her head. She tried to run away, but the other two blocked her. She fought and fought and fought, but it was no use. One had grabbed her by the neck and lifted her to the wall. Before anything could happen, a police siren wailed once.
"What's going on here!" The police yelled. The one who grabbed her had dropped her before they ran. Teresa collapsed to the floor. What was she gonna do now? There was a police right there. She couldn't run. They were going to find the money and drugs in her pockets.

Next thing she knew, she was at a rehab center. She was in the back yard on her second night. An older girl was smoking something.
"Want one?" Teresa shrugged and took one. A little while later someone was walking towards the backyard from inside the house. They quickly disposed of whatever they were smoking, little Teresa had no idea. They fanned the air in attempt to help the smell go away.
"What's going on out here!"
"We're making friends. Isn't that a good thing?" The older girl said.
"It smells like pot out here!"
"Well it's not mine, maybe someone was smoking some earlier."

She couldn't go back to another place like that. She couldn't take it. She couldn't, not now. Not now that she had a little brother. She had to take care of him. Her mother was earning enough to support them now, but who's going to make sure he gets home okay? Cook when she's at work? Help him with homework? Make sure he's doing good at school and has good friends?
"You're not sending me to another rehab center, are you?" she asked the police in front of her.
"Actually, since this is your second offense and you're old enough to truly understand your actions and the consequences, it is likely you will be sent to juvenile detention." No, this could not be happening.

Teresa had been there a couple of days when her mother and brother came to visit. She talked to them from the other side of the glass. Her mom was crying softly.
"Why'd you do it?" She asked.
"I-I had to. My, my friend, the weed, it wasn't mine. Someone put it there to get me in trouble."
"When are you coming home?" Said little Emiel. Their mom had to walk away.
"I don't know, buddy, I'm sorry. But I want you to do good in school okay? Make good friends. Cuz if you do good in school you can get whatever job you want and you can be the king."
"The King!" He repeated excitedly.
"You can have a good house, a car, and be home for your family. You can do fun stuff like video games and sports."
"Can I get a big tv with a remote?!"
"You can get whatever you want. You're the king, remember? Just make sure to study your textbooks, okay? Read at the library after school. And if anyone messes with you, tell Mama. Or tell a teacher. And someday, when you're the king, you get to say "you can't mess with me, I'm the king!"" Emiel nodded along to every word.
"I've gotta go now. I love you, Emiel," Teresa said, touching her hand to the glass. Emiel climbed onto his hands and knees on the table to touch his to the glass, too.

At lunch, Teresa spotted a girl staring at her. She motioned for her to come outside, so she did.
"You owe somebody I know," she said in a quiet, deep voice.
"Oh, J? I... I was going to pay him back, but then I got stuck in this place. I can pay him when I get out."
"That's not soon enough."
"Well it's gonna have to be cuz there's nothing I can do about it." A girl with tattoos and piercings walks up behind her.
"This girl givin' you trouble?"
"Yeah, think she needs a lesson."
"Well, you know I only give my lessons once."
"She only needs one."

Two weeks. Two weeks and both of Violet's children were dead. Dead in the most horrible ways she could have imagined. Her beautiful, wonderful daughter, beaten to death. Her kind, smart son, shot in his own home while she was at work because she forgot to lock the door. Why did this have to happen to her beautiful children? Violet's mother was speaking, she'd flown in from across the country. Teresa's friends were crying softly.
"And I remember visiting them a few weeks ago," she said, tears down her face, "and Teresa said to Emiel, "be the king, and no one can mess with you." She was an amazing sister to her younger brother, encouraging him to stand up for himself, stay educated, and to keep his dreams big. And that one day he will achieve them. You're the king up there, dancing with the angels now, baby boy." Violet couldn't do it. She couldn't live without her babies. She failed them. She couldn't support them well enough. She didn't have enough money, that's why Teresa got into drugs in the first place. She had to work all of the time to survive, leaving innocent little Emiel home alone. She couldn't keep them alive here on earth, so why should she stay? She didn't deserve to stay. There was a beautiful river just past this place. She left the funeral and walked. She walked to the river. She couldn't swim. It didn't matter, she climbed atop a bridge and fell hard onto a rock in the water, the blood dancing with the stream, carrying her body down the river.