Tripping: The Wasted Series, Book 1

1. Tripp

I'm standing at the bottom of the cold, hard concrete stairs, watching all these maggots file into school. What the hell is the Goddamned hurry? Just because it is the first day of school everyone needs to be early? F*ck this.

I decided I had a few minutes before I needed to head in so I took off behind this huge oak tree and had a smoke. Damn, I needed that. Needless to say, I am not looking forward to my first day at Marion Heights High School.

***

About a year and a half ago I got busted for distribution and possession of some drugs. Ok so it was coke and heroin. I was not selling the shit, I'm not going to lie and say I don't dabble in partaking in its sinful indulgence. I had so much on me the cops said it was intent to distribute. Whatever. The reason I had so much is I was holding the shit for my buddy Paulie. He sells. But if he got caught again, he would go straight to prison and skip right over juvi because it was like his 3rd or 4th offense. I had the shit on me. I felt no need to rat him out to the cops. I got the year in juvi.

Worst year. Until this year.

***

I am 17 and should be a junior but since juvi don't specialize much in teaching I have to be a sophomore. This is going to be hell. I already know I am going to have to try and put up with a lot of bs. I bet if I step on someone's little toe by accident I'd get suspended.

Just standing by the oak I had the absolute pleasure of hearing what some of my classmates are saying about me. Not that I care, but half the crap ain't true. Some of them got it right about the drug parts and fighting. But I have NEVER killed anyone, yet...

I heard the first bell ring, my cue to get my ass moving to first period. English. Christ. Boring books to read, monologues to memorize and papers to write. I never understood why we needed to take so many English classes once we learned how to talk and write it. But the powers that be force it on me every year.

I saunter into class just as the second bell chimes. I notice everyone staring at me. Big effen surprise, right, Tripp? D*cks. Ya think I was a leper or something because I am wearing my black leather jacket, which is quite worn in, a Pantera tee and ragged jeans and my black combat boots that did not have ties on them. Almost every one had on designer clothes even the lower class kids. Hello to me. I always forget high school is a fashion show and meat market. Many of the girls have long hair, mostly blonde from a bottle. And the chicks that can afford the designer sh*t wear it. The unfortunate ones with a little less did there best to keep up. The guys all friggin Gap or designer labels. Freakin' “chinos” and "polo" shirts. Their hair was either buzzed or cut real short, real neat real -yawn-.... You get my point? I on the other hand have this mop of black as night hair hanging down to about my shoulders and it is always in my face.

I drag myself to the last row and slouch down in a seat.

The English teacher introduces herself as Ms Samuels and starts calling out names to make sure everyone who should be here is here.

“Trippton Miller?” she calls out.

“Ah Tripp not Trippton.” I say bored.

Ms Samuels frowns and in one of those stern teacher voices threatens “Mr. Miller, we are in English, I would like to hear a Yes ma'am or I am here.”

I look at her and nod my head, which to my surprise, did not get me another retort from her and she continued with her list.

Suddenly I hear my name called again and almost blurt out “I'm here!”

I must have dozed off because as I looked around the room people were moving around and changing seats, I wasn't going to budge so if someone wants my seat tough luck. After a minute my head clears a bit and notice this rich b*tch sitting next to me. Don't get me wrong she is totally smokin' but rich b*tch none the less. Which just means trouble.