More Smiles than Tears *One Direction AU*

Chapter 4

“Dad?” I come inside and holler through the house. “Anybody?” Since there’s no answer, I just assume that nobody is home. I sprint up to my bedroom and lock my door behind me. I shake away all of my fears and pull the forty euros out of my backpack. I venture to my bathroom closet and pull out the empty tampon box I’ve hidden to put the money in. I sigh. Now I have to hide the weed.

Marijuana, hemp, pot, weed; call it whatever you’d like. I call it a Life Saver. Sure, my ass would be shredded if any of my dads found out about this, but honestly I don’t care anymore. I’m sixteen for God’s sake and I could be at university within a couple of years. They’ve been right dicks anyways. They’re always coming home from work late and mysteriously leaving before I wake up for school. It’s almost like they’ve forgotten about me.

Blah, Blah, Blah. Cue the drama queen shit. But, honestly, those insensitive jerks haven’t even spanked me- and I failed my last two Anthropology tests! I guess they just don’t have time for me any more.

I quickly tape the small bag of weed behind the toilet and take the empty tampon bow out of my bathroom close. I  sit cross-legged on my bed room floor and dump all the money in front of me. As I sit there, I count all of the money I’ve accumulated (and saved) the past three and a half months. I count over 1,235 euros.

This is how you do it: you buy a gram of weed for ten euros (if it’s the shitty kind) and sell it for 15 or even 20 euros. Other than selling weed, sometimes I snatch a few of Louis’ Vivance (it’s ADHD medicine) and sell it to other kids on days that they have important exams. I charge 5 euros a pill, and boy, does it add up!

Though I’m happy making all of this money, I also know how wrong it is. But I guess the majority of my conscience just doesn’t care anymore. I know that I have a future ahead of me, but I just don’t think that a future matters. I guess that I suppose that I won’t be around long enough for it to matter anyways.

“Jen?!” I hear Niall bellow from downstairs. “We’re home and we have pizza!” I shove the money back in the box and threw it in the closet.

“I’m coming!” I yell back. I splash some cold water on my face and blow my nose. I made a bad mistake of snorting a line before school today. My eyes are red and my head is pounding. But, I don’t think I’m high anymore. I make sure my thick black eyeliner isn’t running everywhere and I pull my sleeves into my wrists.

I run downstairs and am immediately hit by the aroma of pepperoni pizza. I roll my eyes and enter the kitchen. “Is all we have pepperoni?”

“Yeah.” Zayn says, popping the cap off of his favorite kind of beer.

I wrinkle my nose and Liam says, “It’s always been your favorite kind.”

I sigh. “I’m a vegetarian.”

All movement in the kitchen ceases. “Since when?” Niall asks.

I roughly open the fridge door and grab a bottle of beer. “Try four months ago, Niall.” I hiss.

As I run up the stairs to my bedroom, I hear Harry and Liam yell in unison, “You can’t drink beer!”

I slam my bedroom door shut and lock it. “I sure can!!” I open the beer and sit with my back against the wall. I suck down the liquor so quickly that I can’t even taste the bitterness.

I hear knocking at my door. And shouting, too, but I ignore it. I just grab my iPhone and plug it into my speakers. Then I start blasting the only Eminem CD that’s on my music playlist (it’s the Recovery album). I head to my dresser drawer and pull my razor blade out from under my socks. I sit back down again and pull my sleeve up. As I continue my nearly daily ritual, I am filled with tingling wooziness that the beer gave me.