Paper Stars

7

Charlotte Hollins
Before---4 years ago
East Hills High School, Summer Before Junior Year
August
Losing a friend is like losing a part of your body. You don't truly notice that you need it until it's gone. For months after losing Flet, I felt like a giant chunk of my heart had been ripped out, still beating and dripping with blood. Until I met Lizzy, Flet had been my only friend, my best friend, since I was 8 years old and had first moved in to the neighborhood. On my first day at East Hills Elementary, I noticed the fat kid sitting in the corner of the playground, eating a packet of Cheetos and staring at the ground. I walked over and sat next to him, and he offered me a Cheeto. In third grade, the offering of food meant instant friendship.
I try to avoid Fidel's as much as possible, but Lizzy likes walking the route that passes by it. Every time we walk by I can't help but glance through the storefront windows and see Flet, head bent over and scrubbing the filthy counter with a wet rag. I wish that I could say something, but no apology could ever fix what I've done.
Once summer starts, it's easier to forget about Flet. I spend all of my days with Lizzy, either at her trashy apartment that she shares with her boyfriend (her parents kicked her out once they found out she did drugs) or just walking around East Hills. Aunt Joan told me that she doesn't want Lizzy at our house anymore, and that she doesn't want me hanging out with her at all. I ignore both of those requests.
Around the end of June, Lizzy tells me that I can't bum from her stash anymore, since I'm the one smoking nearly all of it. I end up having to start stealing from Aunt Joan's purse whenever she's not looking in order to pay for mine. Pot isn't strong enough for me anymore, so I've transitioned to crack, which, unfortunately, is more pricey. I try to smoke as much of it as I can during the day when I'm hanging out with Lizzy, but lately I've had to sneak into the bathroom at 2 in the morning to smoke it just to calm the nervous tremor that I've developed whenever I don't have it. I start taking more and more money from Aunt Joan's purse to suffice my growing need. I'm one of Alejandro's best customers now.
One night, after sneaking in after midnight and trying not to wake Emma, my 13 year old sister, I lay in my bed and try to ignore the tremor that's shaking my entire body. My stash is stuffed under my mattress and I can feel every particle of the crack calling to me, vibrating through my body. By 1 am, my clothes are soaked through with sweat and my teeth are chattering and I know that I need it I need it I need it. I sit up and snatch the stash and hurry into the bathroom, rolling one and lighting it with a flick of the lighter that I keep beneath the sink for emergencies like this. I can feel the calm wash over my nerves, soothe my brain, and I relax against the wall, releasing a breath of smoke and relief.
I only get a few seconds of solace before the door swings wide open. Emma, brown hair mussed from sleep and eyes swollen and red from crying. She takes in the bag of crack sitting on the sink, and the roll between my two fingers and the smoke from my mouth.
She doesn't look surprised.
"Aunt Joan knows that it's you," she says. She doesn't sound sleepy. She must've been awake the whole time, listening to me curse and sweat and run to the bathroom in defeat. "She knows that you're taking money from her purse."
I can't say anything. Emma's face scrunches up and a tear slides down her cheek. "Aunt Joan cries a lot," she says in a choked voice that's holding back a fountain. "She's worried about you, but she doesn't know what to do. Neither does Uncle Kenny. You're hurting them, Charlie." Her unspoken words hang between us.

You're hurting me. My hands start shaking again as the nervous tremor comes back. I need to take another huff, but I can't while Emma is watching. It takes all my strength to snuff out the blunt and drop it in the sink. I open my arms to Emma and she rushes in, letting all of her sobs go into my shirt. "Will you promise me you won't do it anymore?" she asks as I rub her back. "Please?""Yeah, Emma. Yeah, I promise," I say, but the tremor in my hands speaks differently. ***Nick Hathaway throws his end of the summer party the last week of August every year. It's the week that his parents go on vacation and leave him home alone. For the past two years, me and Flet have blown off the party, partly because Nick is a douche and party because we're not the partying type. But this year I don't have Flet, and Lizzy says we're going. Lizzy's boyfriend, James, drives us across East Hills to a wealthy neighborhood. The street is lined with cars and he has to park on the grass of some rich guy's lawn. Lizzy is planning on drinking herself sick to end the summer with a bang, but I'm supposed to meet Alejandro. He said he had something stronger for me, and right now I really need something stronger. I have more of Aunt Joan's money stuffed into the back pocket of my jeans, and every time I check to make sure it's still there I feel a wave of guilt. Emma doesn't even talk to me anymore. She knows I broke her promise. We enter the house and I'm hit with a blast of loud music and loud people. Lizzy lets out a loud whoop and falls right in with the crowd, but I can't help but feel as if I'm sticking out. Parties always make me feel uncomfortable, claustrophobic. Like I'm breathing in more sweat and stink than actual oxygen. I tap Lizzy and tell her that I'll be right back. Alejandro is the only real reason I'm here. Once I pay for the stuff, I can probably blow off Lizzy and catch a ride home. It would ease Aunt Joan's and Uncle Kenny's minds a little if I came home earlier than midnight. I find Alejandro in the back, passing off a bag of pot to a skinny freshman. The freshman scuttles away like a rat when I approach, clutching his pot to his chest and disappearing out the front door. "Who was that?" I ask.Alejandro shrugs. "Don't care, long as I get my money. Speaking of—" He holds his hand out, palm open.I roll my eyes and remove the money from my back pocket, placing it in his open hand. Alejandro smiles and puts the money in his backpack, and then removes a small Ziplock bag with ten slips of paper inside. He places the bag in my hand, and then retrieves another bag with fine white powder in it. LSD and coke. I'm just about to slip the bags inside my purse when I feel eyes on me. I look up and glance around the room before finding the culprit, a guy standing off in the corner with a beer in one hand. He's tall and lean, with brown hair that sticks up in all directions. His glasses are gone, probably replaced with contacts, and his pasty white complexion has been replaced with smoothly tanned skin. Flet looks away from me as a girl with dark brown skin and black hair approaches him. Nadia Ganesh smiles and says something. I wait for Flet to freeze, for his face to get red and for the sweat to come as he stutters to find something to say, but he just says something easily and Nadia laughs. "Charlie?" Alejandro prompts. "Charlie, is this good?" I look back to him and it takes me a second to realize that he's talking about the drugs, not Flet. I nod and mutter in agreement under my breath. Alejandro starts to say something, but I shove the bags into my purse and walk away before I can hear it. I find an empty bathroom and lock the door before opening the bag with the ten slips of paper. Lizzy always warned me about acid when I first started pot. She said that there's a 50/50 that your trip could either be good or bad, but right now I don't care. I take out one of the slips and remove the paper covering before putting the square on my tongue. It dissolves into my mouth and I rest on the cold bathroom floor, tears streaming from the corners of my eyes. It takes a few minutes, but eventually I start to see bubbles of bright, vivid color in my vision. The acid puts me on a cloud and I feel like I'm floating through space, a cool breeze kissing my cheeks and sunshine on my skin. When the trip is over, I'm laying face-down on the bathroom floor and cheeks are wet with tears and there's a girl pounding on the locked door, yelling that she needs in because she's about to puke.