In the Absence of Light

10

Isaacs POV

The scent of weed fills up the room, the clouds turning the air into a foggy haze. I've opened the window to clear it out, but it's not doing enough. I don't mind, though. I hope Ivy can smell it next door. That would be funny. It's just a bit of payback for the shitty music she's been blasting all day.

I don't know why the fuck we're getting high in my apartment instead of the frat house, but it sure works to my advantage. My supply can't run out, and the more weed they buy, the more money I make. Except now, I can't leave when they're annoyingly ass conversation ruins my high.

"Give me another one," Leah grabs the bong off the table. I hand her the tub of weed, but it's snatched away by Trey. "Hey!"

"My bad," he smirks. "I can't wait."

"You're a fucking dick."

"Yeah, yeah," he shrugs her off, filling his cone with the small leaves of green. He doesn't even bother passing it to her when he's done, leaving Leah to lean over the table to grab the tub from his lap.

"You've gotta learn to share more," I comment. This asshole's always pulling shit like this. "Didn't your mum send you to preschool?"

"Fuck no, bro," Trey scowls. "Preschool's for pussies."

I scoff loudly. Does this guy hear himself? He keeps spewing this senseless shit like a 14-year-old but who just saw his first tit.

"You already know this guy was home-schooled," Ryan nudges his friend. The two of them are spread out on the couch. "Rich kids don't associate with anyone but their own kind."

"Didn't you go to private school?" I point out.

"Yeah, but–."

"Nah, fuck you," I shake my head. "You can't talk shit about being rich when you are, too."

"Nah, man, there are different kinds of rich," he tells me.

"What? Different levels?" I snicker. No fucking way. All rich people are the same.

"Nah, bro, there are rich people like me, and then there are Catholic rich people, like Trey."

"And what's the difference?"

"My parents actually let me leave the house. But Catholic parents? No way. They let you go to tutoring and church. That's it."

"He's right, bro," Trey adds.

"Bullshit," I deny. "It doesn't matter what kind of rich you are; either way, you're surrounded by other rich people."

"There's no exposure," Leah adds. "You're in your own bubbles, ignorant to the shit we go through."

"Nah, they're not ignorant. They just don't give a shit. As long as we're lining their pockets, they couldn't care whether we live or die."

"Fuck, bro, that's so negative," Ryan laughs.

"What are you—a fucking socialist?" Trey jokes.

"I'm just saying, man... it's not surprising you are the way you are," I respond.

"And what am I?"

"A walking shit-stain," Ryan laughs, cutting off my response. I'm kind of glad he did, though. I'm high as fuck right now, and I seriously cannot be fucked getting up to beat Trey's ass.

"Hey, that was one time!" Trey protests.

"You literally had a wipe of shit on your face, man! How the fuck does that happen?"