Roadmaps.

November 10, 2009
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I stepped out of my house into the dark and quiet neighborhood, it was just after ten o'clock and things were beginning to settle down in suburbia. I hate it here, I mumbled to myself, fumbling with my car keys as I unlocked the door to my aging Bimmer. Starting the car and thumbing quietly through my book of cds, I run across my original copy of Fevers and Mirrors. Wow, old school Bright Eyes, that's what I need. I forgot I even had that, I think to myself putting it into my CD player and pulling out of the driveway and heading down the road towards my friend Matts crib. The cd starts playing the calander hung itself, as if daring me to remember people I should be forgetting, so I floor the pedal and try and get to Matts as quickly as possible. It's sad, the way you change and don't realize it sometimes. I open up the glovebox, checking to make sure I have my scale and the blow. It seems like that's all we ever did anymore. We always talked about the rockstar lifestyle in middle school, and now here we were as sophomores in high school, selling cocaine and making more money than any student should be, but hey, who am I to complain?

I pulled up into Matts driveway and parked the car, locking it behind me as I headed up to his door. I didn't bother knocking, I just walked in, on the off chance his mother was home she'd known me since I was 7 and I'd always just walked in, so I knew she wouldn't mind. Matt was in the living room, a speckled mirror in front of him with choppy lines layed out like some sort of roadmap for our lives. It's not like we didn't have plans though, I mean, I at least knew what I wanted to do. All of the money I'm making, straight to my college fund, straight to Ivy League Law School, I don't make straight A's for nothing. That's what you keep telling yourself anyway, I thought picking up his remote and sitting down next to him. What's up bro? I asked, flipping through channels trying to find something for us to watch before heading out for our typical weekend on the town, or towns as the case sometimes ended up being. It was nice, living within 20 minutes of LA and 45 of Long Beach, it made for a frantic night life, if anything.

“I'm not sure man, there's a few parties we need to hit up. But I think the one out on the beach is going to be the best dude, we should probably stay out there.” Man, I start to say, I don't like partying on the beach, you know that. I drag out beach, so he knows I really would rather not go to that particular one. “Morgans going to be there.” I hated him for knowing my magic words. Whatever dude, I guess we can go. “Hahahaha, you're so easy man. I swear I'm gonna have her show up at my court proceedings just to get you to come.” Really funny, I would have went anyway. You just added a little incentive, I told him, knowingly lying through my teeth. God knows I'd have left so early if he'd made me go and she wasn't there. I didn't do the beach, I don't like swimming. “Hahah whatever bro. I know you too well, you know this.” That I do, now pass me that glass, I need to get ready for the darn beach. He laughed heartily, and passed me the pink floyd mirror he'd gotten from sore old guy at a yard sale years ago. I leaned forward. Snorted. Once, twice, three times. Breathe in. Deep. Exhale. Again, one, two, three. Exhale. I felt the coke work its way through my body, heightening my sense of touch and numbing my worries for the rest of the night. Who cares what happens? I'm Alex DeTroix. I ran my finger across the glass, picking up traces on my fingers and rubbed the inside of my gums with it. I started asking Matt when we were leaving as my mouth began to numb, “Right now babe,” and with that we headed out for the night.





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