Weed Smoke

Chapter One

"Marcus! Get your ass down here, right now!"

Those are the words that I woke up to this morning. My mother is always buggin' me before she goes to work.

"Yes mom?" I sighed.

"Why didn't you do these damn dishes last night Marcus?" She asked impatiently.

"Mom I'll do them first thing when I get home from school." I said convincingly.

"Marcus you better not be smoking reefer in my house." She said angrily as she scrambled to look for her car keys.

My mother just recently found one of my blunts, that I left in the bathroom. She has been buggin' ever since. It wasn't even a whole blunt.

This shorty named Camilla, and I were smoking some bomb ass weed on my porch. Camilla told me to put the blunt out, because she was too high, and she was.
I knew Camilla was high, because she kept talking. Don't get me wrong I like Camilla and all, but damn when a shorty starts talking too much, it blows my high. I think Camilla read my mind because as soon as I was about to say something, she pulled her phone out.

"Damn Marcus, look at the time. My sister is going to kill me! And I'm high as hell! You got me so fucking high." Camilla said smiling, while looking straight ahead.

I like Camilla a lot and she knows that, so we try our best to keep our relationship friendly. My reputation isn't the best when it comes to dating, so Camilla does her best to not catch any feelings towards me.
She's a beautiful girl, and I respect her one hundred percent.

"You want me to walk you home? I should've been told you the time." I said trying to sound sincere.

I wouldn't mind her staying a little longer, but I wouldn't mind her leaving either. Once she did leave I ran to the bathroom. I put the rest of the blunt out for later since Camilla couldn't smoke anymore. I sat it on the windowsill, and guess who forgot it? My dumbass.

My dumbass was all that went through my head, while my mother was yelling at me; telling me all the reasons why I can't smoke in her house, and how I shouldn't be smoking at all.

She lectured me for the next ten minutes-occasionally holding up my half of blunt, as if it was a piece of evidence in a murder case.

Guess who added fuel to the fire? When trying to explain that it was smoked outside, and not in the house. Me, my dumb ass.

I'm Marcus Cooke. Seventeen years old. I've been smoking weed since I was thirteen, and with no plans on stopping. When I think of myself stopping, I get very depressed. If it wasn't for marijuana, I would be in bed 365 days of the year.

I live in a descent home with my wonderful mother, the low class is what the government would classify us as. I never understood it though. Every morning my mother wakes up to go to work, five am to be exact. Just so she can provide for me,.and my two sisters Kyra and Brelah. Kyra is twelve, and Brelah fifteen.

Even though my two big sisters moved out, my mother still helps them out. To sum it all up, my sisters wouldn't be where they are now, if it wasn't for my mothers help. She makes enough just so she can provide for her children, and herself.

"Certified Nursing assistant Marcus." My mother said, correcting me every time I would mistake her for a Registered Nurse. I never knew the difference, she would always have to explain it to me. CNA or RN it didn't matter to me. My mother wakes up everyday to go to work, making sure her children went to school everyday. Making sure the refrigerator was stocked, and clothes were bought. I really appreciated her for that.