Brandon. Yes, THAT Brandon.

Undercover Adventures With Marshall ('Call Him General')

I stare for a second. He doesn't stop. It's not quite maniacal, but more as if he were told a joke, and still reacts to it full force and hysterically. Not normal...

"C-Conner?" I ask softly.

"Matt?" he snaps quickly. All signs of laughter are gone, leaving the bathroom unusually quiet. Conner stares at me for maybe ten seconds. I'm frozen in place. "Where's Matt?"

"I-I don't know... what are you doing?" I question slowly. Conner looks right into my eyes, but his are blank and glassy. Was he crying... no. I don't think he's dehydrated. Then I realize-

The nerve of him. He's high. He's high as fuck.

Instead of shifting to complete indignation (for one, we're in school, and two, he could ruin everything about football by doing drugs), I huff out of my nose until I can calmly address him again. "What are you doing?" It doesn't smell like smoke in the bathroom, and neither does he.

"Nothin'..." he says slowly. "What do you think about?"

"What?"

"What? I'm fine. Leave me alone, please," Conner says in almost a childlike manner, shuddering as if he's out in the October weather. He brings both fists up to his mouth and says with a smile: "What are you doing here?" His mind is all over the place. My anger diminishes almost completely. He's so small... what in the world is he on? The entirety of his body is shaking almost violently, like he's really freezing. I'm suddenly wary of him. Who knows how much whatever he could've taken? Pills? Needles?

"What did you take?" I question softly, stepping into the open stall as placidly as possible. Conner shakes his head with a giggle. "Conner..."

"C'mere," he purrs. I shake my head. "Please! Please, I need you to come." Suddenly, he's standing up, rushing me. "Baby, please-"

I close my eyes. My worst trait is impulsiveness. I know that by now. All my impulsive mind and body has done is get me in trouble. It was my brash urges that got me in a rut with Conner in the first place, and now he's high. Breathe, Brandon. Breathe...

"Look," I say gently. "I'll talk to you if you talk to me, okay?" Conner nods in agreement, smiling his sweet smile as usual. "Can you tell me everything you did today?" Conner looks me in the eyes, shaking his head in a playful way. "What can I do to-"

"Touch me," he whispers without hesitation.

"No, Conner. I want to talk to you," I assure him. "Do you want to hold my hand?" In Skye's class, we learned how to talk to people under the influence, especially when they're being difficult. I was hoping that I wouldn't have to use those tactics, but here I am today. Psychology is good for something, I suppose.

"I want you. Yes, hold me," Conner says quickly. Understanding his quick sentences is challenging. I sigh anyway, and switch him places so I can sit on the closed toilet seat. Conner straddles me with no hesitation, which makes me feel that turn brewing from my lower stomach. "Matt."

"I'm Brandon," I reply.

"I'm Conner," he purrs. He's giving me that look; the one where he peeks blue from under his long, dark eyelashes. And I'm telling myself that I'm trying to help him... but sitting here, letting him straddle me? I'm just buying into his game. This is really, really bad. Stick to the mission, Brandon. Most of me is terrified for him, but as long as I remain calm, he remains calm.