The only good thing about precalculus, was that my best friend Hannah was in it with me. Otherwise, I would either fall asleep, or fail the class. The second outcome being caused by the first. I got there thirty seconds after the bell, and slid into my seat before my neanderthal of a teacher could turn around. Hannah raised an eyebrow, when I slammed my book down so hard the desk rattled.

"Hey, what's up?" She asked.

Hannah and I had been best friends since the third grade. I didn't dare call my life hard around her. Her mom split when she was three, and her dad, a drunk and too religious man, either disappeared for weeks on end, or when he was home, abused her. Hannah, spent most of her childhood at her relative's houses, the most common being her grandmother Lilian's. But when her grandmother passed away when she was ten, she'd been sent back to her dad's. But she was one of those people, to never talk about things that affected her. With a life like her's, I didn't want to tell her about everything with me. I'd tried to be her protector for years, and I didn't need her to be mine.

"Nothing much, did you do the homework?" I asked, because I certainly I hadn't. She nodded, sliding me the page.

************************

I slogged through the rest of the day, scrawling down notes and feeling like a sorry sack of shit. Cheer practice, I also slogged through, I'd known the chants and the rally's for years, this was just another one. We had our practice, the same the the football players had theirs. I caught sight of Jacob, as we ran laps. I slowed, just as he did. We stood there, across from each other, eyes locked. Fuck you. I mouthed, before I started running again.

I remembered meeting Jacob, it was at practice that we'd met. Just in a situation like this, seeing each other and slowing down, but not stopping. From across the track, he'd mouthed to me Hey, and I mouthed back. Afterword, he'd came up to me, while everyone was drinking gatorade and catching there breath, from there it had been a whirlwind. Until now. Now, after practice while drinking gatorade, I did everything I could to ignore him.

"Aaliyah." A voice said from behind me. I turned around. There he was, running a hand through his black hair. I glared.

"What?" I asked, throwing away my cup. He took two steps toward me, I took two steps back. Accurate summary, of our relationship. I put up my hands, the international sign for: go the fuck away.

"I'm sorry." He said.

It was then I got a good look at him. he looked exhausted. Maybe from practice, maybe from his life, it wasn't my place to ask anymore. There were bags under his eyes, his hair looked greasy. What I said next, was the closest thing to me getting closure, for something I would never say out aloud.

"Me too."

What I really meant was, "I'm sorry for blaming this all on you. I'm sorry for sleeping with your brother, when I wanted it be you. I'm sorry I hate Millie for being a better person than I'll ever be."

Instead, I left it at that. Walking in a straight line towards the bleachers, I slung my bag over my shoulder. I walked, like a soldier to my car. It had been a long day, and I was supposed to be home for dinner. But instead, I pulled my car onto the highway and drove out "River Road" till I came to the park shrouded in trees. I opened my glove compartment, to reveal the half empty pack of cigarettes I had bought a week ago. I pulled one from the pack, and fished around in old gum wrappers for a lighter. I rolled down the window, and took a long drag. My phone chimed with a notification. My chemistry grades had been posted. I almost dropped my cigarette. When I saw the little red f, on my screen, I did drop my cigarette.

"Fuck, Fuck." I muttered, dropping my phone before I burned a whole through my cheer uniform, which I was still wearing. In pulled off the uniform, and pulled on my leggings and sweatshirt from earlier, I also took my hair out of it's ponytail, and extinguished my cigarette. All before my mother texted me.

Mom: Get home now Aaliyah, we need to talk.

Aaliyah: I'm coming.

I didn't lie, I was on my way home. After that text anyway. I was also going sixty-eight in a fifty, when I got home, it had began to rain. A perfectly miserable day, to represent how perfectly miserable I was. The second I opened the door to my house, I saw my mother. leaning against the banister, glaring at me.

"Aaliyah." She says, a form of greeting.

"Hi." I mutter, not meeting her gaze.

In my head, I am making a list of everything this talk could be about. Maybe she found the pill I'd tossed in my desk drawer, or maybe she knew I'd been sneaking out. Maybe, maybe she knew about Will, or Jacob, or both. Or she'd found the bottles of alcohol stashed all around my room.

"The f in chemistry?" She said, turning her phone screen to me. I looked at it, and breathed a massive sigh of relief.

"I'm sorry." I said, even though I wasn't. When I could've been studying for chemistry, I was laying in Will's arms.

"This isn't like you sweetheart, you've always gotten straight a's." She said, pointing out the obvious. I sighed, pressing my hands to my forehead, and inhaling cigarette smell. I met her gaze. If there was one thing I learned, of how to get back into my mother's good graces. So I played it up.

"Ever since the divorce, I've just been feeling so exhausted, and sad...and"

******************************

Apparently, I was an idiot. After telling my mother all these things. She took it into her hands to bring me a bottle of Prozac, to make me feel "happier." I took the orange bottle, and shoved it to the back of my closet. After that, I flopped onto my bed. Burying my face into the pillows. It was then, I cried. Cried because of the divorce, cried because I missed my dad, cried because I lost my boyfriend. And mostly, because I hated myself. I must've fallen asleep at some point, because when I woke up it was dark out, and there was a blanket over me, and the curtains were drawn. I sat up. I felt horrible, and so I did what I swore I wouldn't, I took the pill, swallowing it with only spit.

Mom, despite her anger let me sleep through school the next day. I woke up at noon to cold toast and orange juice next to my bed. Along with a note, that said: "Hope your feeling better, Love Mom." I took a sip of juice, my mouth felt dry and sticky. I rolled out of bed, and rummaged through the blankets for my phone. No new messages. Except one from Hannah, asking if I needed the calc notes. I told her it would be great.

By two in the afternoon, I was soaking in the bathtub, relaxing in a sea of bubble bath with my third glass of wine in my hand, I looked like a pinterest photo, with the pack of cigarettes next to me. I was reading the worst book known to man. Americanah, and falling asleep. Maybe an hour or so passed, and there was a knock on the bathroom door. I jumped,

"Hey, It's me, can I borrow your straightener?" Harper asked. Before I had time to reply she opened the door.

"Oh shit, sorry." She said, eyes landing on me. She abruptly turned away, rummaging through the cabinet for my straightening iron. Then she whirled around to face me again.

"What the fuck?" She asked, gesturing to my bottle and glass of wine, and cigarettes. I shrugged, throwing my hands up like I had no idea what i was doing.

"What?" I asked, dumbly.

"Your fucking smoking? Drinking?" She asked, incredulous. I gestured to the bottle.

"Help yourself." I said smiling, taking another drag of my cigarette. She snatched the glass from my hand, I shifted the bubbles around to cover my body. She leaned against the counter, maintaining eye contact.

"What is happening Lia?" She asked me, her voice cracking, as if she was my mother. I rolled my eyes.

"I'm, letting loose a little bit." I said, realizing I was slurring my words a little. I pulled it together a little bit.

"You're drunk in the middle of the day, and your smoking, since when is this a thing?" She asks, running her hand through the pristine curls of her hair. This was her tell, the tell to let me know she was stressed. I averted my eyes, it had unfortunately been a habit, for the better part of this year. But, I wasn't telling her that. I shrugged, the bubbles moving a bit.

"Yes, I am, and it's not a thing. I just need to relax a little." I said, acting as though this wasn't totally out of character. It was, or it used to be anyway. Harper slid her purity ring on and off her finger. I raised my eyebrow. Burying my hands deeper in the bubbles, not wearing mine at the moment. I sighed. She did too. I met my sisters eyes, and it was only then I saw into them. Something was wrong. I sat up a little bit.

"Hey Harper, what's wrong?" I asked. She looked away, as if she was trying not to cry. She sniffed.

"Just, everything you know." She said. I knew what she meant, she'd been putting on a brave face too. I nodded.

"I know, yeah I know."

I hated that I couldn't help her, she'd helped me through hard times. I still hadn't told her about Jacob, and i didn't really want too. So I smiled, reassuringly.

"We'll get through it, we always will." I said, cringy but maybe true.

I'm out of the bath, dry, and dressed, before thirty minutes has passed. I pull my hair into a braid, that falls over my shoulders. Outfit wise, I chose black leggings and a long sleeve gray shirt, as per usual, nothing important. I have also doused myself in enough perfume to smell like a bath and body works It's obnoxious, but less so then the cigarette smell. Mom, won't be home for another few hours, which gives me enough time to walk to the park. When I get there, there are more people there then before. A mother, pushing her baby in a swing, and a man jogging in circles, as well as three middle school aged kids, sitting on a picnic blanket. Towards the trees, there's a picnic table, sitting there is Kaleb. I make my way over to him. I slide onto the picnic table next to him.

"Hey." He says, pulling off the hood of his sweatshirt. In his hand, he's twirling his pen around.

"Hi." I murmur, tugging my jacket tighter around me.

"You want a hit?" He asked, offering me the pen. I nodded. Then I had a realization, sure it was dangerous. But I should ask. I pulled the small altoids container from my pocket, and presented to him the little white pill, that had a little mark, 10 on it. I pulled it out from the mix of cigarettes, and flakes of ground up weed.

"Do you know what this is?" I asked. He took it, and turned it over in his palm. He nodded.

"Shouldn't you know?" He asked. "It's your pill after all." He said.

"Someone gave it to me, I didn't ask what it was." I said sheepishly, Kaleb just laughed. His eyes sparkling.

"Yeah, If I had to guess I'd say it's Oxy."
"What's Oxy?" I asked, feeling dumber than a doornail. He laughed harder this time. Then closed his fist around the pill.

"Maybe it's better if I keep it." He teased. I snatched it from him then.

"It's mine." I said, blushing.

"Oxycodone, it's a pretty harsh painkiller, makes you feel like your floating. I didn't know you were into pills." He said shrugging.

"I'm not." I muttered. "Even if I was, you don't know me, I could be doing heroin and you wouldn't know." I snapped, not sure why i felt defensive. He rolled his eyes.

"I think I would know, seeing as your not fading in and out of consciousness, I'm going to guess that you do not do drugs on the daily."

"You guessed right." I said, blushing a deep shade of crimson. I slipped it back into the little tin. We sat there, in silence, a chill breeze whistling in the trees.

"How do you know what it is? Do you do drugs on the daily?" I asked. Kaleb, suddenly looked uncomfortable. I felt a twinge of guilt

"No, but my dad takes these." He states.

"Is your dad in pain?" I ask.

Kaleb's eyes flicker. Behind them, I can almost see him remembering something. Like for a moment he's not even here.

"I guess you could say that."
"Care to elaborate?"

"He's in mental pain." He tells me. I understand that, if anyone understands, it's me. I just nod, and he pauses.

"The truth?" He asks.

"Why wouldn't I want the truth?" I ask.

"Because, the truth isn't what people want to hear sometimes." He says matter factly. I nod, a cue for him to proceed. He takes a moment to gather his thought. I wonder briefly, what is it so bad, that he needs to gather his thoughts for.

"My mom died, a few years ago. Leukemia. Three days after that, my dad got into a car accident, fracturing his kneecap. They prescribed him Oxycodone, and I guess ever since then, he just liked being numb more than being sober."

"Oh. Kaleb I'm sorry."

I wondered, why he was telling me this. Of course I felt bad for him, but I was a stranger. But I had also asked, and he had obliged.

"So, why you taking pills anyway?" He asked.

I normally, wouldn't have bothered stating all of my thousand reasons, but I did, he had taken the skeletons out of closet to tell to a stranger, so I suppose I could too. So I told him, about the divorce, about Will, about the smoking, how I felt as though my life was falling apart and taking me with it. When I was done talking, he just nodded.

"I'm sorry too."

I had omitted some things about Will, because I felt horrible enough about it. But, I just sighed, my heart breaking all over again.

"Can I take you somewhere?" He asked. My body tingled. My gut, told me not to go with strangers. But I wasn't seven years old anymore, and he wasn't a man in a white van. We were teenagers, what was so bad that he would take me. But, it had been almost an hour, I knew I should get home before my mom did, plus I was starving. A side effect of the weed.

"I should get home, but maybe some other time?" I asked, genuinely meaning it. He nodded.

"What about tomorrow night? Meet you here around midnight?" He asked. I nodded, blushing again. My eyes met his blue ones. I extended my hand to shake his, and we shook on it. He Held my hand for a split second longer once we had fallen silent. Then he pushed himself off of the picnic table. Pulling his hoodie over his head.

"See ya later Aaliyah." He said, emphasizing the Lia sound. I waved, hoping he couldn't see how red my face was. I waited five minutes, before pushing myself off the picnic table. I sighed, feeling happy for the first time in a while.

When I got home, it was ten minutes before my mother. I sprayed on more perfume, covering the lingering smell of weed. But I had the feeling, my high was making me more paranoid then necessary. But better safe then sorry, I reminded myself in the mirror. Harper, wasn't here. If I had to guess, she was on a date.