Flawed Perception

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Maybe today would be different. Maybe instead of being socially awkward I'd speak eloquently out of nowhere. Lord knows I tried.  

I wanted to be one of those people who looked forward to school every morning. I wanted to wake up, tired from staying up all night on the phone with my friends. I wanted to get dressed and walk to school excitedly, impatient to meet my friends in the parking lot.  

I wasn't. 

I approached Smith High School. The air was hot and sticky, not uncommon for early summer in Washington. The sky was gray with a few spots of blue peeking out, potentially promising a nice day. I was early, I was always early. 

It was Wednesday. There were less than two weeks left until summer break so people were becoming lazy, tardiness was at an all time high. Most of the people who were late or ditched were seniors, impatient to graduate and get out of town. Come next year, that wouldn't be me. I'd be the only senior to attend class, because that was just the person I was. 

I walked toward the C building, where my first class, American History, would be in half an hour. It was quiet, except from the rumbling of a few car engines. The teachers were just beginning to arrive, cementing my status as a nerd for being here so early. 

Arriving at the brick building I leaned my back onto the wall near the classroom door. The waiting game had begun. This routine of mine had gradually become all too regular.  

I heard some small chatter less than twenty feet away, around the side of the building. As it was typically quiet, the idea that other students would arrive this early piqued my interest. I pulled myself from the brick wall, taking slow quiet steps until I reached the corner, merely desiring a peek at who, aside from me, would be at school this early.  

"Here, ten bucks," I heard a male voice say. I then heard the crinkling of a bag and had an idea of what kind of interaction I was eavesdropping in on.  

"Thanks bud," I heard another, more familiar voice say, followed by the sound of footsteps becoming fainter. He was walking away. 

I inched toward the corner of the wall, pressing my face against the brick to get a peek of who it was that had just purchased a dime bag in my presence. I then heard two voices coming closer and closer. 

I didn't see anything but black. Black because the recipient of the weed was standing in front of me. I was suddenly aware that I had just witnessed a rule being broken, a crime in most places. Whoever it was wouldn't take too kindly to my sneaking around spying. I kept my head hung low, trying to hide my face. 

"Seriously?" he asked. I knew who it was. My head jolted up. I saw him and another guy behind him. 

There he stood. Blond hair, blue eyes, tall, lean and as frustrating as ever. My brother.  

"Andy?" I asked, the shock apparent in my tone. "What the heck are you doing here right now? Are you really buying marijuana?" 

I looked to his friend. I knew him. He was Nick Hadley, the tall, lanky, brown haired boy I'd known since we were kids. He and Andy had been friends for years and he was always at our house when my mother wasn't around, which was most of the time. He was one of a handful of Andy's friends that she didn't approve of. 

"Yeah, so what?" He took a step closer, leaning over me in a threatening way. I looked over to see his friend had turned away, trying to give us a second of privacy. How I wished he would turn back and make my brother leave. 

Though Andy was over a year younger, his height was intimidating and I began to cower. We were close as kids, but things had changed over the years. He changed. When he hit middle school he'd fallen in with a bad group of friends, many of whom were my age and bad news. It shouldn't have surprised me that I'd caught him and a friend buying weed.