Just A Girl Thing

Chapter 22

(A/N) I'm so sorry for the SUPER Late update. I've just had so much writer's block and I've been busy and the previous chapter gets sucky-er each time I read it so I'm forcing myself to write this for y'all. Btw, I'm getting into the 'good stuff' like the author of After does (no offense) but that kinda awkward on my part :)

Lesley and I just arrived to the party. Time to get baby busting. We have to and this is our only chance. Besides, we're dressed to impress.

I'm wearing a cropped black tee that says "PINK" and it stops right below my bust just to show off my belly ring. Waist high white denim shorts and black Vans complete my look. I recently cut my breast-length hair to a slightly longer version of a bob style so I have that pinned straight with my side bangs down. My silver piercings stand out against my mainly black outfit and my newest tattoo is seen perfectly and sprouts out of my pants (I'm sorry if that sounds wrong to you), crawls up my torso, then ends in my shirt. Lesley and I did good. Anyway, this shows off my body way better than the dress I bought ever would've.

As for Lesley, she went without her dress as well. We both wanted less desperate and more mellow. Lesley is wearing her favorite pair of booty shorts that show the pockets. I never really liked that style of shorts but Lesley can rock just about anything and get away with it. As a top she's wearing a white, not see-through, but white front tie crop top stopping just after her shoulders to conceal the top of her tattooed sleeve. Her hair is curled loosely and probably didn't stay far enough away from the 'less desperate' type but that's okay. As I said, Lesley gets away with anything.

We walk in the doors of the party and immediately two red solo cups are shoved forcefully into our hands. Now, smart girls who have been to a few alcoholic parties know to pretend to drink from their cup and get tipsy. First timers are easy to spot in places like this because they are truly full-out drunk. I know better so I slowly let the liquid touch my lips before I tip my cup back down. I've learned to do this and just lick your lips because you never know if your handed burning vodka or cheap beer. I lick my lips. Cheap beer.

I follow the cloud of smoke. My last taste was two days ago and I'm ready for my re-charge. I love the back little corners of the parties. Most of the time it's low, slow, and mellow. That is if your smoking the green leaf. Anyway, as I've said before, I only really smoke on Fridays. These days are the best because I just sit down, kick back, and light up. You sink into this deep haze after a few puffs. All calm and mellow. I've been saying that a lot lately. Mellow. It's true though. Everything moves slower. Ever seen the movie "Epic"? You know how the humans move really slow? It's sorta like that. Your movements just slow down. You breath deeper. You forget. Not lose all grasps of common sense. You just stop. It's really hard to explain. It's just..... sweet.

Now, that's really cool and all but I need to wake up. I need a buzz. My target is a slowed down guy because their easy. Time to fly.

Remember those dreams you got when you were a kid? I do. I got to fly through my neighborhood like a bird and soar so, so high. I steal someone's mirror with have a line still left on it. I see a sawed-off straw on the coffee table and steal that too. Okay, if I wanted to actually fly, I would need more than just half a line. I've built up solid stamina with this stuff so it takes me more than a couple lines to get high, more than a couple beers to get drunk, thought the only thing that gets me every time is my favorite leaf. Anyway, my goal right now is to just wake up.

I straighten the powder a little and I inhale all the way down the white. My eyes nearly roll back in my head. I haven't had this stuff in weeks and I'm so glad I got this. I want so much more but I can't. I'm awake and it's time to find a guy. Just in case, I grab a pack of regular cigs just to get me through the night.

I go back to the main party area, away from the low smoke. I now have a little buzz in the side of my brain. Success smells so good. I find my way out to the back porch for a little fresh air and take a cig and lighter out of my new stash. I begin reminiscing about my first time sinking, then shooting straight back up.

(Flash back)

I walked into that dreaded end-of-the-hall restroom. Then one where they all disappear. Smoke clouded my vision, made my eyes want to water, made my throat want to cough, made my nose want to sneeze, but I didn't. There's people in here. There's a pale boy wearing all black, excusing the graphic red blood on his tee shirt. Wordlessly, the circle of druggies shifted. The half somber ones at least. Those who moved scooted the dazed. I wonder what's happened to them to be so spaced out. Then wordlessly again the pale boy got up to lock the door. As he sat back down, he passed me a item which I recognized to be a bong. When I gave him a quizzing look, he positioned my hands for me and helped me hold the roach to my lips. One word he uttered: "inhale"

I wanted to cough. To cry. To sneeze. But I didn't. So I slowly looked at the boy. He nodded and removed his hands from mine. I glanced around the circle. Many faces I didn't recognize. Except one. A major football jock. Why him? Isn't that illegal? Oh well. There are like ten people in here. Wow. I felt pale boy's eyes boring into me. Inhaled the smoke again. It was better this time. Easier. Funner. Hehe... funner. This was my first time. I didn't want them to know and I didn't want to stop.