“Caleb Joseph Harris” was written in black letters on an index card on the desk in the farthest corner of the room.  The desk was also farthest from the teacher’s desk, just my luck.  I did not mind the desk or the kids sitting next to me, but the fact she wrote our names on cards and assigned seats.  When a teacher tries to control the classroom, you just know they either taught third grade before this or they are basically dictators in the classroom. I thought art teachers were supposed to be quirky and creative, but I guess all art teachers are different. After staring blankly at the card for a couple minutes, I sat down and waited for role call. As our new teacher, Ms. Lozano, went through role, she said she prefered to call children by their real names.  This is not normal because I go by CJ about ninety-nine percent of the time.  White boys always get the most stereotypical names in the world, and I am one of the stereotypical boys. Although I am half Hispanic and half Italian, my personality and taste in clothes are more identifiable to a white boy. I wear a beanie to cover my brunette hair that when not gelled falls over my green eyes basically blinding me, and my skin is between lightly tanned and white but is mostly tan from water polo and
lacrosse.  To add insult to injury, the teacher fakes some funky accent, so she butchered my name to “kah-leb”. Apparently our old teacher got sick of us, and decided to retire early. I liked her better since she never hovered or faked an accent. She made the one hour feel shorter, yet somehow we managed to learn something. I can handle an hour with this crazy teacher.  Ms. Lozano would be very attractive if she did not have the accent or fake glasses.  Her black hair was in a tight bun and she would baggy jeans with a tight shirt.  I would guess she is thirty four or somewhere around there.  She did not seem to belong in this high school environment considering she was no taller than five foot three.  After going over some useless technique, she dismisses us three minutes before the bell rings. I know exactly three minutes because I could not take my eyes off the clock. It felt as if time had frozen a dozen times during the period.
    Next period is lunch.  Lunch is somewhat chaotic since the school was built for one thousand students, and its current population was around one thousand five hundred kids.  Being a sophomore gives you the slightly fair advantage of knowing the school.  I meet up with Derek Strait, my closest friend since third grade, at the dugouts on the deserted baseball field.  It is just far enough that no one can eavesdrop and you cannot smell the weed from the potheads nearby.  “Look, it is my favorite bisexual in the whole wide world”, I yell as I blow him a kiss teasingly.

“Knock it off CJ”, Derek shouts back, “First of all, I have not told everyone, yet plus I am way too good for you”.
I sit next to my other white guy friend.  He is not as f*** boy like as I am, but he still counts as one.  He is a full blooded Italian, but he got his tan from baseball .  He dyed his hair black, but his blonde roots are starting to show. He has the most mesmerizing baby blue eyes, a sharp jawline, good cheekbones, lightly freckled skin, and always wears Vans. The only reason I can describe him so well is because he is always complimenting himself in the version of a complaint.  It is slightly narcissistic of him to do that, but I do not mind. “I invited Selena and Dustan to hang out here with us. That is cool right?” asked Derek.
“Why would I have a problem with her? She is the only girl I trust at this establishment”.
“I mentioned two names and you acknowledged only one and that one happened to be a particular girl, CJ”.
Derek was right for a fact.  His gaydar can sense the gayness of people and my crushes.  Selena started to hangout with me and Derek as of three years ago. She had transferred from a private school up the road.  I felt bad for her because she knew no one and she was actually pretty cute.  Selena and Dustan arrived in the grandiose manner they always do.  “WHAT IS UP MOTHERf*ERS”, boomed Dustan!

Selena and Dustan were the color to our little group.  Selena Vallo is half Asian and half Hispanic.  Dustan Pasco is half German and half Cuban.  Although Dustan is a little husky, he could easily outrun you in the zombie apocalypse. He had a swearing problem.  Fifth grade was the year when everyone discovered the magical cuss words.  You were either the child that grew out of the habit of using them or you became the child that slowly discovered more and used it all the time.  Dustan’s habit just progressed, so we all were accustomed to his sometimes crude jokes or slightly racist comments.  “Has anyone ever noticed that Derek’s last name is Strait, but Derek is not straight?” questioned Selena. 
“WOAH, I totally never have thought of the before,” gasped Derek.
“Bite me Derek. You are such a drama queen,” squealed Selena.
Derek grabbed Selena’s hand and started looking at her nails.
“Soft, by what I see is bitten nails. Why does thy hither bitten these nails both fair and rigid,” exaggerated Derek.
Selena nonchalantly rose.  Suddenly, she jerked toward Derek and slapped him across the face, leaving him with a slightly pink mark of fingers and a palm on his face. The shock of Derek was so great he fell back off the wall he was sitting on. 
“Four letters boys, P-S-A-T,” groaned Selena.
“So psat suddenly became a word?! WHAT ELSE HAVE I MISSED,” whispered Dustan.
“ No no, PSAT stands for Preliminary Scholastic Aptitude Test,”said Selena.
“So you’re studying for psat, rock climbing, and cheer?” I questioned .
Selena nodded her as a gust of wind blew her chestnut hair across her face. Her ivory skin contrasted well with her hair. Her eyes were glossy from allergies, but she looked very stressed. Derek, slowly but eventually, climbed back over the wall and sat on the floor instead of the wall this time. Dustan was quiet most of the time because he was too preoccupied with his lunch. The entire group was in a pact. This pact being “we tell each other everything and cannot judge what we do” according to Derek. Derek, Selena, and Dustan did drugs. No surprise there. Half does them during school hours. I would try it, but I do not want to turn into dumb asses like them. They say it makes you happy and oblivious to the rest of society. After the week I have been having, I honestly would not mind trying it.

“Heyyyyy Derek,’’ I said in a high pitched voice.
“What do you want now?”
“You know the stuff you do. The m-a-r-a-j-u-a-n-a.”
“Just say weed, CJ.”
“Okay well got any weed on you?”
Derek gave me the deadest look I have ever seen in my life. It was a cross between surprise and scared.
“You for realsies want it” whispered Derek.
“Yeah.”
“You realise we are on school property.”
“Well aware, Derek.”
“This is a sacred day, CJ. You are one of us now.”
As Derek is saying this, he hands me what looks like half a churro. It is wrapped in brown paper and feels lumpy.
“Yoooo what the f*** is this,” I gasp.
“A blunt,” exclaimed Derek, Selena, and Dustan.
“So do I just breathe in?”
“NO! You eat it,” sarcastically said Selena.
Dustan takes out a lighter, then lights the end and hands it to me. I think to myself “Just breathe in and get it over with” and breathe in through the filter. It is warm and tastes absolutely disgusting. I barely hold it in for three seconds, when I start to cough from the smoke. I cannot explain the sensation I felt. It was like an adrenaline rush, but then you feel groggy. I take another puff and the warmth is starting to feel familiar. I realized how much my thoughts were starting to run wild, because it all started with thinking about mac and cheese. Strangely, I was craving it and I felt way too happy. I like the feeling. I never want this feeling to end. “ Yo we should buy a hammock, you know. Put ‘em up right here and go to the aquarium and watch’em lil water doggies swim around” I chuckle.
“Okay big boy, that is enough weed for you sweetie. You have the most red eyes ever. JESUS! Here, they are eye drops,” says Dustan.
I try to stand up and walk over to him, but it is like my entire perception of balance has been erased.  I can not walk in a straight line if someone even had a gun to my head. Each step either made me fall over or have a fit of laughter. I was basically at the dependency level of a toddler. I give up walking to Dustan and do this half roll half crawl move, and it manages to get me over to him. Reaching for the eyedrops was even a challenge. After missing his hand four times, I grab the drops and manage to get a drop or two in each eye. “Soooo how long does this ummmmmm weed last?” I questioned Selena in my slurred speech.
“Well it all depends because I usually will last an hour or ‍‍‍‍two”, said Selena.
“So about an hour ishy”, I giggled.
“Yeah, sure”, shrugged Selena.
Derek grabs my arm and guides me forcefully to my backpack. From this point of view, it looks like a black and white cat. I grabbed my bag and remembered my next period is English. I am so glad Derek has the next period as me because I have no idea how to get to class. Selena and Dustan finish up the rest of the weed Derek brought and tossed the burnt bits in the baseball field. Aside from their eyes, they look normal. They walked in a pretty sturdy manner and did not need to brace themselves on anything, until Dustan violently grabbed Selena in a failed attempt not to fall over.

Derek and me barely made it to class on time since I wandered off and Derek had to find me. English class was very interesting. I have never gone to class intoxicated and it is a very unusual experience. I kept wanting to fall asleep, but at the same time I was too awake to sleep. Derek enlightens me that it was a “hybrid strain” I smoked. The effects of the strain lasted all English and history. After history, I had to walk home. This time, I can independently walk on my own.
Once I got home, I called Derek and helped him with his math. After two hours of useless tutoring, I decided to ask the worst question ever. “Can I have the number of your dealer?” I mumbled.
Less than four minutes later, Derek shows up with his backpack. I do not even let him in through the front door. My house is a one story and a very ugly tint of green. My room is on the very right side, which is practically next the garage and opposite of the kitchen. Derek climbs through my window and lands on my bed. My room is pretty organized for the most part. The door is on the west side and my bed is opposite of that. I strategically placed my bed so the window is parallel to the side. My wardrobe is opposite of my bed and slightly to the left of the door. On the east side is my oak desk with tons of compartments.
Derek makes himself comfortable like he always does: throws his shoes on the floor, dumps out the contents of his backpack, and nestles himself in my neatly made bed. I see Derek write on a small piece of paper, and it is the phone number. I stare at it like it is the ancient Holy Grail.
Derek then quietly lets himself back out like he did entering. I stare at the paper. Do I call or not? A deadly silence falls over my room. It is just me and the paper, and I just stare. Finally, I grab my cell phone and decide to call.

I walk into school very skittish the next day. The night before I called the weed man, Jason, and got a delivery that night. I bought over sixty dollars worth last night and stashed it within the compartments and hiding places in my room.  I decided to take a pre-roll gram to school.
It feels like a target is on your back, and only you know. It feels so wrong, yet so good. Acting normal is harder said than done. Plus, you can smell the fragrant aroma of the mouth watering weed. Art class was the worst. I wanted to take it out and smoke it so badly. The urges we almost to much to resist. The bell rang just in time though, and I made my quick escape to the dugouts.

Derek is already waiting there for me with a lit joint in his mouth. He was attempting to blow ringlets and it was not turning out so well.  I frantically grab my pre-roll and ask Derek for a filter. Sluggishly, he rolls over and grabs it. “You got stuff”, mumbles Derek.
“Yeah and I have been craving since I woke up this morning,” I gasp.
I light the joint and inhale deep into my lungs. The overwhelming feeling of pleasure surges over me and I am at peace once again. A couple puffs later, Selena and Dustan arrive. Selena whips out her juul and Dustan his wax pen. “ I should invest in a juul,” I say between my puffs.
“Yeah, they are super handy. Plus, you can smoke it during class,” replies Selena.
I should ask Jason if he has one. Selena claims having a twenty-one year old dealer is too young because apparently they do not know what the good stuff is.  Dustan’s phone chimes from a text message. Apparently, there is a group chat for the sophomore stoners. “Yo dawgs, there is a senior party this Friday,” exclaims Dustan.
“We should go!” squeals Selena.
“I am down to sneak out” says Dustan and Derek.
“I guess I will go,” I say.
“Cool, and it is a blackout party. We only wear black,” warns Selena.
Selena opens a mint tin from her box. She removes what look like pills.
“Toss me a tab,” grumbles Derek.
“Do you want school bus xan or mellow?” asks Selena.
“I’ll have mellow,” says Derek.
Selena chucks a small white pill at Derek. He chews it and continues his smoke session. Selena takes out a bigger tab and chews that one. She suddenly gets woozy looking. Dustan claims one day Selena will overdose, but that is such a lie. Dustan is just chicken.

The night of the party arrives. Dustan and Derek pick me up in Derek’s mom’s car. Derek snatched the keys since the party was ten minutes from where we lived. Selena lives next door to me, so she was hanging out and getting ready in my room. I try to hide my boner, but clearly that is not going well. I end up pretending to take a nap before the part in a last resort effort to hide it. Selena and me are like brother and sister. Only she is hot and I am just me. We always hang out and tell each other way too personal secrets.
Derek and Dustan pull up in a 2006 Toyota and gesture us to hop in. Selena slides out the window first. Then, I do while shutting it behind me. Selena jumps in the backseat while I scoot in. She is fixing her hair and doing last minute makeup fixes. She looks so much older with makeup. It is scary and shocking. Dustan wore a black t-shirt and pants with Vans. Same with Derek and me. Selena wore a crop top and black jeggings with a dark lipstick.  As we pull up to the house, Selena takes out her bottle of xanax and juul, Dustan and his wax pen, Derek and a bottle of strawberry vodka, and I take out my blunt.
We managed somehow to sneak into a upperclassmen party. We all had fun that night. Well, I guess we did because I don't really remember much of it. I woke up with the worst hangover ever. I wa started by how someone or I managed to put on a pair of basketball shorts to sleep in. Selena was passed out on the carpet of my room, drool dripping from her mouth. Dustan lay inside my wardrobe hugging the bottle of half drunk strawberry vodka. Derek was nowhere to be found. I guess he drove himself home and made it back alive.

Life continued this way. During lunch, we would all smoke or do xan at the dugouts and be f***ed up the rest of the day. It lasted like this even in the summer. My house was the midway for everyone. Saturday nights, we would sneak out the garage to smoke and attempt to walk back to my room. I loved our routine. It was bonding, safe, and comforting.
By junior year, all our grades turned to crap compared to sophomore year. We barely passed classes and smoked way more hardcore strains. We were all happy. Nothing else mattered except our little family.
I could see our group had changed so drastically though. We used to look so clean cut, and now we are messier and trashier. No one seemed to mind. Dustan and me were slightly concerned in the beginning, but then we decided to let lose too. I did miss my old self, but my old life was boring compared to now.

It was senior year. We finally were so happy to be getting out of that hell hole of a school.  “Vodka shots all around” yelled Selena.
Derek pour his famous strawberry vodka into the shot glasses Selena brought. We toasted and drank. “I am so surprised they have not kicked us out of the dugouts yet,” said Derek.
“Guess they never cared enough to,” I replied.
We ate the rest of our lunches. We laughed over how Dustan put buds in his bologna sandwich “Guys, I revolutionized lettuce,” exclaimed Dustan.
“Nah, you crack head,” chuckled Selena.
“You are so stupid,” laughed Derek.
I was recording the whole situation when the group chat texted. “First senior party of the year is next Saturday,” I read. It said to bring as much xanax, weed, and alcohol so the seniors can go out in style. “ Guess I better hit up my guy again,” shrugged Selena.
Something was off. Selena just did not seem right. “Are you okay?” I asked Selena.
“Perfectly fine. Why?” said Selena.
“Nothing at all,” I responded.
I had a gut wrenching feeling something was going to happen, but I ignored it.

Derek picked me, Selena, and Dustan up at my house. As I opened the window to crawl out, Selena grabbed my hand. “Thanks for all you have done. I could not have deserved a better friend,” whispered Selena and handed me a cross necklace.
I did not pay much attention at the time, and hopped into the car like usual. Selena fixed her makeup and walked into the house first. The music filled house was clouded from hotboxing and moist from body heat. Selena usually hangouts out with us, but this time she left without saying a word. Derek, Dustan, and me party all night until three am. The cops did not even arrive to bust the party. Apparently, they paid off the neighbors and I could believe that. The host of the party was rich.
The party was lit. There was so much booze and alcohol to last months. I woke up next to Derek on my bed. Dustan was on the carpet with his pants half off. I stumbled and walked around my room looking for Selena, but she was not there. I checked the garage and still no sign. I was concerned and did not what else to do. “We should look for Selena,” I say.
“Nah,” responded Derek,” she is a big responsible girl”.

Selena never came back. They found her body by the lake behind the host’s house the next day. She overdosed on xanax and drank a ton of alcohol.
Derek, Dustan, and me sat at the deserted baseball dugouts. No one said a word, but we all stared at the spot Selena used to sit. The memories and figment of her still lingered fresh in all our minds. We each were getting interrogated that afternoon. No one wanted to talk and it stayed that way the rest of the week.
Derek, Dustan, and me ended up telling most of the story to the police. We all got expelled and sentenced with community service. Derek got sent to a military academy and Dustan to reforming school. I was sent to the continuation school, and put into therapy for substance abuse. I regret that one day sophomore, and I wish I could go back and change my poor judgement.

Doctor Keyser watched as tears ran down my face. “There doc, that is my story,” I sniffed.
“Well that is interesting,” said Keyser.
“That’s is all you have to say!?” I yelled and almost choked on my words.
Doctor Keyser did not respond to my rage with words. She walked over to me and hugged me. It was not a pity hug, but a genuine relative hug.
“Caleb, I have seen and almost have been in your shoes,” said Keyser.
I sat there like a child, crying and powerless. There were no words to describe all the emotions and thoughts running through my brain.
“Are you ready to start your session now?” asked Doctor Keyser.
I looked at her, then the clocks, then at the floor. I still was not sure. I felt like something was holding me back. Then I remembered Selena’s last words. Rethinking made me understand the pain in her voice. She would want me to change.
“Yes, let’s get started,” I said as I sat down and fingered the cross necklace around my neck.