DRUGLORD

(one.) white powder

THE LAST TIME JUSTIN FOLEY TALKED to me was in third grade. we used to be bestfriends, the kind that were inseparable. but then he became friends with bryce walker due to my sudden disappearance for a day.

I had the flu—which is what my mother said to cover up the fact that she accidentally got too drunk and forgot to take me to school. this was about eight years ago. bygones were bygones.

justin foley had forgotten about my existence and I, well it was pretty hard to forget the former liberty high school basketball star that everyone raved about. i lit my cigarette inhaling the toxin watching as he made his way over.

he wore a button up with a sweater, definitely not the justin i used to know. he looked at me as if he thought he knew me bit just could not pin from where. his hands rummaged through his perfect pretty boy hair that was volumed to perfection.

it was the hair and the face. . . maybe that made all the girls swoon for jessica davis' man. or maybe it was the smile. and don't get me wrong i would swoon all over that if i didn't really know the boy behind the fake facade.

"pretty boy" i exhaled "you need somethin?" the look on his face was blank. he fidgeted for a moment not knowing what to say back. he closed his eyes and dug through his pocket pulling out two crumbled bills.

he stood there staring at me and lifted his hand to me "AJ said that you had um-powder. . ." he looked down at the ground obviously ashamed. i took a step towards him taking one last drag before throwing the cigarette to the ground and stepping on it.

"what's a pretty boy like you doing with heroin, get that shit out of your mind and rock a letterman jacket" i spitted out and bit my lip.

he rolled his eyes "just give me my shit cam you don't know shit okay?" maybe he did remember you. but that didn't matter since the boy was leading down a very troubled path. you could spot it anywhere the scratches, his baggy eyes. justin's disappearance had fucked him up.