You don’t get baked all alone, not even if you’re a social outcast
Tamika had crawled back to him after desperately ignoring him and throwing glassy glazes. She didn’t chatter at first, uninterested asking him if he wanted to skip PA again. Frank figured she either had no friends of her own, had a major crush on him or was just bored. So bored.
He’d been looking for a thrill lately, some illegal action that didn’t include him touching other guy’s dick. After spending a whole Sunday being a goody toe shoe he needed to bring himself back to earth. Because he wasn’t like that, he cared about making life easy for himself. And if that meant doing some good deeds and spend some time hanging around with a faggot, so be it.
Feeling like a tough guy he asked: “Ever been high?”
“Few times.” Tamika answered shortly, taking a well coordinated drag of one of his cigarettes. It seemed his mockingbird was broken, it annoyed him, he kind of missed the noise of her voice.
“Wanna get high?” He asked daring fumbling the tiny bag of weed out. He hadn’t smoked any of it yet, sort of social etiquette right? You don’t get baked all alone, not even if you’re a social outcast.
Surprised hinted, nearly glittered by the large amount of dark make up smeared around her eyes. “How did you get that?” She asked, naïve it was sort of cute.
“Bought it, foster fuck remember?” Oh yes he felt all tough guy right now and she seemed interested.
The football team didn’t have practice so they hide underneath the tribunes, after making sure he didn’t sit in any trash or bubble gum Frank started to roll.
Tamika still didn’t seem reassured enough. Not even after he told he used to smoke at school all the time when he was fourteen. What he forgot to mention was that around that age he wasn’t on a very highly ranked high school and that nobody ever gave a shit if you were walking around with drugs. If you didn’t deal you either sold else you where a pussy. Being fourteen and on Ritalin had been a golden age. Of course, occasionally you would get beat up and robbed because walking around with too much money was a dead sentence.
While he rolled Tamika tried to sit down in a comfortable position which wouldn’t show her undies. Why girls wore short skirts to public places without the intention to get harassed was still beyond Frank. She finally settled with sitting on her knees, not that comfortable but neither showing. She looked hot, he wasn’t going to argue that. Just a little goth, fucked up her hair by bleaching it and putting funky colors in it recently. That made her look younger, little miss rainbow. Maybe he should tell her that, or maybe not. He didn’t want to get too personal again, he liked keeping distance.
“You’re sure nobody will see us?” She asked when Frank sprinkled the green.
“Yes.” He answered, which was a pretty truthful answer. Question was, would they smell them and smoke ‘em out? But he saw it as an extra thrill and he could run, fast. Unnoticeably, he let his eyes skip to Tamika’s high pumps and signed, rules of the Serengeti count everywhere. Eaten or be eaten.
“You ever smoked before?” He asked when he skillfully finished the joint.
“I got two older brothers.” Tamika answered as if that explained it all. He took it as a yes though.
Frank took his first drag and inhaled deep, he loved the flavor. Not many did but for some reason it made him feel exotic, hot. Like the smoke felt down his throat, circling in his lungs and keeping it there for a moment until he slowly breathed out.
It wasn’t ‘the shit’, guy who dealt clearly got bad stuff. But he hadn’t smoked in a while, way too long. So it was definitely doing something for him, no way it would clear his head completely be he would feel very comfortable in a few. After inhaling two more times he passed it over and let himself slowly slide down by his elbows. Grass and maybe other stuff was sticking against his skin and he wrapped one hand behind his head.
Tamika took a hesitating drag and carefully lowered the joint. He took it over between his fingers and inhaled deep, it felt like his lungs where burning up and for some reason that made him feel good, proud.
Handing it over he closed his eyes for a moment with a goofy grin on his face, tasting the strange flavor of weed.
“So did you spend your Sunday with that queer guy?” Tamika asked. He nodded without bother to open his eyes.
“Isn’t that weird?” She continued.
Now this slightly pissed him off, not because she asked but the way she asked. Hesitating, like she was talking about being HIV positive or something. Last night, when his social worker had been so thoughtful to spare him a long walk home, Foster Dad Phil had been coldly silent. Foster Dad Phil had opened the door, looked over Gerard head to toe and hardly said anything when Gerard praised every singly bit of work Frank had been doing.
Later that night, when he wanted to sneak to the bathroom for a goodnight cigarette he had heard Foster Dad Phil preach to Karen. How inappropriate it was to have that kind of people working with children. How he disliked having someone like that over and how he thought that it was impossible for Gerard to be a good influence on boys like that, with a background like that.
“I don’t care he’s a faggot, he’s just my social worker.” He muttered through closed eyes, reaching his arm up to get the joint.
“But still, it’s weird.” She stated and Frank really wondered how she got that thought. Which directly leaded him to his next though, what would she do if she knew what he used to do (and had been doing) with random strangers. But was he really going to let her annoying chatter fuck up his joint?
“I don’t think anything of him, just another caseworker. Do you know how many of those guys I’ve had over the years? All they do is write shit down and do nothing, I’m just a number, he’s just an employee.” And it all came back, the wonderful fuzzy blankness. Calm, warm and oh so good.
It didn’t happen a lot that he felt calm enough to relax, ease his muscles and enjoy a warm sunny day like other people seemed to do on a regular basis. He never felt completely at ease without drugs or without being drunk. There always had to be something to cloudy his radar that kept the message danger danger on repeat. He figured he missed trust, so he trusted booze to keep him at ease.
He always had to keep his guard up, because half of the world seemed to be out to get him and the other half simply didn’t care.
First time he got high happened sort of on accident. Guys from his foster home where smoking pot and he sort of sat down in the circle wondering what was so funny. Eventually someone passed him the joint. By then he’d had his experience with cigarettes, but the sharp taste made him cough. The guys laughed, someone videotaped him making a fool out of himself. He’d been proud because he’d been sitting with the big boys and he made them laugh. He hardly took more than three drags, got sick but kept his mouth shut when his foster mother asked him what was wrong. Even when he felt dizzy and like his head was filled with clouds, mouth completely dry and that his throat felt sore from the weird smoke.
He’d been nine, maybe ten and he’d felt like a big boy the entire time.
Suddenly Tamika laughed and pointed up at the wooden benches of the tribune. A loves J, had been carved into the wood right above their heads.
“That’s so lame.” She giggled still foolishly pointing up.
Frank smirked: “Do you know what that means?”
“Means somebody probably got fucked right where we are sitting.” Frank felt pretty content when that comment made Tamika jump up and gave him a tiny preview of what kind of undies she was wearing. “Makes sense now. I thought I sat down in bubble gum.”
“Perve.” The girl scolded and remained standing. “Seriously, how can you just keep laying there? Gross.”
“Wanna go somewhere else?” He offered and sort of ordered. He didn’t feel like school, didn’t think it was a smart idea to let Tamika go back in class. Getting caught sharing pot would definitely put him on a black list.
“Where do you wanna go?” She asked a little unsure, but her eyes hinted that she was all up for it.
He hadn’t really thought about that yet, all he wanted was get off school property. All he knew in town was the station, which was out of the question.
“Let’s go to the mall.”
It bugged him that she was a little bit taller than him. Just a bit and it where the shoes, still it bugged him. She’d got a little clingy but he kind of liked that. During the bus ride, which he paid for, she’d leaned against him, only shoulders touching but when they got of her hand definitely had brushed his thigh. And she was back on chattering to him as he was back at listening and passing time. She was eating a burger and had ordered French fries for the second time, while he ate fried onion rings.
She chattered about clothes and trends and styles. And school and how much it sucked, and some people from school she thought sucked. She was a pretty good gossiper and told him that some girl named Jenny gave Steven a blowjob in the locker room last week after practice. She also said that she would never do that, but Frank questioned that.
But he did enjoy the time he spent listening to her and he liked that their knees touched every now and then underneath the tiny table. And he really liked that she didn’t really expect and answered back.
After she was done bitching and he was done ordering coke after coke they went to one of her favorite shops. Hot topic, which seriously gave him the creeps. But the slutty ripped shirts she tried on made up for it. He refused every outfit she picked for him and they had a little hustle when she tried to push him into one of the dressing rooms. She laughed, close to hysterical, when he lost his balance and fell down, taking the curtain with him. Some goth looking chick raged at him and tried to kick them out. They did, eventually, but only after he stole a pair of earrings out of spite. He gave them to Tamika, figured she would like them. She did and therefore needed to hug him and tell him he was the cutes juvenile delinquent ever.
After that there was a record store, there was some guy Tamika knew and Frank had been forced to listen to an endless argument about Metallica and Nirvana. Boring, but better than math class.
“How do you get all that money?” Tamika eventually asked when they were in a gaming centre and Frank was kicking ass at an arcade game.
“I just do.” He answered, completely focused on killing zombies for extra points. “I’m good at what I do.” He added with a wry smile.
“Yeah, but how do you get all that money.” She pressed and that was where she crossed the line. Sure she could chatter but that was about it.
He went out of ammo and got brutally torn into pieces by an entire zombie army. Angered he glared up: “Listen, I don’t whine about you cutting yourself so do me the favor, don’t whine about me having money. I just do and if you can’t live with that, then fuck off.”
She seemed more than shocked after that, even a bit teary eye. Clearly he brought up a subject that ached.
Was he really willing to scarify his only good time by being a blunt asshole? No, of course not, because he was a selfish asshole. So sigh and suck it up.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.” He said, voice actually calm and strangely honest.
She seemed even more shocked after that and eyeliner started to smudge. Great, now he made her cry for real without being a harsh prick. Clearly he couldn’t do anything right today.
Taking her by the hand, he dragged her out of the game centre because all the other guys seemed to get highly antsy when there was a crying girl over.
He made her sit down on a bench outside the mall and while she was still sniffing, he lit a cigarette to give himself an attitude.
“Want a cigarette?” He finally asked when she was done and tried to whip her face clean. He wished he had something else to offer, like a napkin or something.
She smiled, thankfully she smiled back and let him light her one as well. “You’re not like other guys.” She told him when he sat down on the bench as well.
“Oh?” He wasn’t sure if that was a good or a bad thing. His spidy senses where tingling, what if she’d figured him out? “Why?”
“Because you listen.” She said with a tiny voice and looked at him hopefully and a little nervous. “And you could have told the entire school.”
“Why would I do that?” He asked, because seriously what would he get out of telling the entire school that she liked to play with scissors.
“Because pretty much everyone I know would.”
“Then you know a lot of assholes.”
She smiled again, sadly. “Guess I do. But you’re different.” She mentioned again which really gave Frank the creeps. Safety first, so he kept his mouth shut and scraped his new shoes over the pavement. He didn’t get her next move and looked dully at her badly manicured fingers that snuck up his thigh. Black, why did she wear so much black? Probably the same reason he liked his hair long, to hide, to fled, safety first.
She kissed him on the lips, full and with lip gloss. Too much of the cherry tasting stickiness, which was why his first reaction was to jerk away.
But brain won over body screaming: fit in, fit in, fit in long enough until he kissed back. And while everything inside of him knew that he was simply being kissed by an obnoxious teenage girl, a lot of memories flooded back. Backseats, stretchers, bunk beds. Rough cheeks, payback, rewards.
He felt her moving closer and placed his hand on her chest which seemed like a promiscuous move but in fact was to create enough distance, to keep her away from invading his personal space too much.
At that moment he wanted to be a teenager kissing a girl, noting special, not even above average. He wanted to be normal, he wanted to feel normal. But instead of, as hopeless romantics call it, being in the moment, his brain was racing nonstop.
She tasted wet, soft, to cigarettes and sweet. Her fingertips rubbed over his thigh and he felt her up a little. Boob, girl, boob, girl. It didn’t mean a thing to him, he just hoped he did a well performance because he had no idea what she expected. And that was never fun, he knew what she was to him, a great way to pass time but nothing more and he was pretty damn sure she never would be anything more than that.
He wanted to ask her when she broke the kiss but couldn’t find the right words and stuttered something unintelligent. She seemed dazzled and a little clueless too, still keeping her hand on him and as he noticed, he was still keeping his on her breast. He quickly pulled his hand back and placed it on his own lap, touching hers.
“…I… I… I just…” He stuttered like a fucking catholic boy getting his first blowjob, he could even feel his cheeks flush and asked himself what the fuck was wrong with him.
“My brothers are throwing a party this weekend.” Tamika hinted hesitating at first. “Brandon turned twenty-one a few months back, so there will be much booze. Jared will probably invite a lot of football guys, but their ok I guess. I think it’ll be fun. Wanna come over?”
How could he say no to a great way of passing time?
It’ll make me a bad person if I say that I like how Frank and Tamika are working out. So I won’t say it out loud and just think about it. This chapter was kind of a filler, something light and like the title sais wasting time, passing time. Hope I didn’t wate any of yours.