Is it worth it?

Where I am

I'm Bobo and I'm 22 years old. Bobo is just my street name. It's what people call me in this little town I live in named Craydon. I like that name. It's what my little brother used to call me.

Yeah...

Notice that I said "used to". And that's because he's not with us anymore. I'll tell you about that later, right now I will tell you about him.

His name was Leo. 4 years younger than me. He was the most joyful and fun kid I've ever seen. He always made my day every time I came home mad or sad because of a bad grade or a heartbreak. He was 14 when he passed, or... got killed. Shot, in that matter. All because I chose a life that I shouldn't have chosen years ago.

I was a just a young boy when I started, 15 years old, wanting to make some money to buy cool stuff like gold watches, brand clothes and cool rings. However, as I grew older and my mom got sick, I wanted the money to help her out at home. I remember the first time I started dealing drugs like it was yesterday.

*February 13th 2009*

"Bobo! Hey!" My best friend Lucky called from across the hallway.
He ran over to me, trying not to drop his books before he threw his arm around my shoulders.
"Why the pouty face?" Lucky questioned as I sighed.
"You know what day it is tomorrow?" I looked down on the floor. We stopped next to Lucky's locker as he opened it.
"Uh, Friday?" He asked confused.
"It's valentines day," I groaned, "and I have no money to buy Danielle anything,"
"Oh, totally forgot you had a girlfriend bro," he joked as I punched his shoulder.
He laughed and placed his hand on my shoulder, "Why don't you just get money?"
"Yeah, right. Because that's really easy in a poor neighborhood like this," I sassed, pushing his hand off me.
"Actually, it is. I heard you just have to sell some stuff, and you get lots of money!" Lucky told me.
I cocked an eyebrow at him, "What am I supposed to sell, Lucky? My clothes?"
He chuckled, "Talk to my big bro, he'll help you out,"
I shrugged as in 'whatever' and told him I'd talk to his brother later.

Later that night.

"What's up, Bobo?" Lucky's older brother, Smoke, greeted when we met at an old playground.
"Lucky told me you knew a way to get some money," I told him.
"He told you that, didn't he," Smoke chuckled, scratching the back of his head, "I don't know kid, it's pretty dangerous,"
I let out a little laugh, "What could possibly be so dangerous with selling stuff?"
"You guys are so pure. Not any kinds of stuff, Bobo. Weed." He told me.
I looked at him confused as he furrowed his eyebrows at me, like I was supposed to know the word 'weed'.
"As I said... Pure. You know the word, marijuana?" He asked again as I stood up fast.
"M-marijuana? Like, d-drugs?" I stuttered.
Smoke stood up with a smile and placed his hand on my shoulder.
"Listen, if you want to. I can give you some to sell. 10 bucks for one gram. If I give you 20 grams to sell, and if you can sell them, I'll let you keep 100 bucks," he suggested as my eyes widened.
"100 bucks?" I asked as he nodded in response, "T-that's a lot of money,"
"And it's all yours if you're in on the deal. And if you like it, this can be your job and you'll earn much more cash," he told me as I immediately shook his hand.

*Now*

I opened the front door, holding a bag with groceries. Stepping into the living room, I spotted my mom sleeping on the couch with the TV on.
"Mom. I'm home," I said as she slowly opened her eyes.
"Where were you darling?" She asked with her shaky voice.
"The grocery store mom, I bought what you asked for," I told her, placing the food in the refrigerator.
"That's great, sweetie," she smiled before closing her eyes again.

It was when I was 17 where my mom showed symptoms for Alzheimer. She would suddenly have difficulty completing familiar tasks at home and at work. Since then it has just gotten worse. And the nursing home here in Craydon suggested for her to stay with them, but said that I can stay home with her and take care of her myself if I wanted to. And that's what I wanted to do.
After finishing putting everything away, I walked over to her and gave her a kiss on her forehead before getting a text. I opened my phone and read, "An eightball of that snow. Abandoned pizza place, ASAP!"
I put on my backpack, shoes and my hoodie before stepping outside.
I met one of my customers, he looked really shaky. But that's how most of my customers look. However, this customer looked more shaky than usual. I walked up to him, handed him a 3,5 grams of cocaine as he handed me $250.
"Why so shaky, bro?" I just had to ask.
"I walked past a cop car along the way," he told me before walking past me.
"Whoa!" I said, grabbing his arm, "Cops?"
To explain my surprise, cops don't hang around here in the neighborhood very often. However, if they do, they either beat up a black guy or shoots one.
"Yeah man," he whispered, "They were doing something new. Searching through a white kid's bag,"
This I had to check out. But without my backpack.