November Rain- Chapter One, Part One

I allow the smoke to escape from my lungs.

It smells sweet but its gift is even sweeter. Setting the pipe, I stretch back in my chair. The fluorescent moon never looked so beautiful. Across from me is Jimmy, a kid from science class. I honestly don't know him that well. We talked a few times but became friends when he asked to smoke together.

When I close my eyes, my mind finally feels less clouded. I see vivid images, maybe memories, and I feel like I'm living through these snapshots. Jimmy keeps saying my name. I can't stop thinking, but not in an obsessive way. Usually, so much flashes by that I can't determine one thought from the other. But now, everything seems synchronized, a long string of beads, each bead connected somehow.

My cheeks turn red whenever I realize. "I'm sorry," I tell him, my fingers on my temples. He just laughs, thank God; I don't want to lose another friend.

"I just wanted to know if you wanted to go home yet." He shrugs. "We don't have to." Damn straight we don't, I think. The last place I want to be is the only place I'm expected to be. I cut family from my life...now what am I? I have no soul. Chew. Swallow. A machine.

He must be a mind reader because he just nods, understanding. The breeze gives my arms goose bumps. Each time I blow smoke, I can see my own breath as well. We sit there awhile without anything to say.

Jimmy doesn't have it too easy, either. At the other side of this forest rests his trailer, a distressed home. The eldest of five, he works two jobs and takes care of his siblings while his dad sleeps on the couch.

He cooks and cleans and wipes noses, but that's only half of his day.

When I open my eyes, he's asleep, a Mountain Dew bottle on his lap. He reminds me of a small child who just cried himself to sleep. His breathing is unsteady; his chest keeps rising and falling. With one hand, I squeeze his shoulder; with the other, I stroke his dirty blond hair. The strands slip between my fingers.

His bright blue eyes flutter open.

I softly curse. Blushing, he asks, "Kim, what are you...?" You wouldn't believe how fast I dropped that hand.

"I was trying to wake you up," I convince. I pause. The moon, hours later, still looks remarkable. "Are you ready to go home?"

The faint moonlight is our only guidance. Befallen leaves crunch as we step onto them. I clutch his wiry arm whenever an owl cries for her children. Under normal circumstances, the fact that it was a school night would have been terrifying. How would I wake up- more importantly, function, the next day?

I used to care SO MUCH. These things used to mean something, but failure has become an inevitable as the weather.

I miss the nights of sleep.

"Do you have someplace to stay t'night?" Jimmy asks, opening the front door halfway. I know home is not an option. I am, however, only another mouth to feed at the Leonard's. They would force food down my throat, even if I pleaded against it. I consider how his family struggles to pay the bills, how eviction isn't a long shot. For this kid, I have compassion and deep respect.

Meeting his eyes, I just thank him for the fun time.