My joint was lit and I smoked it as I stepped heel to toe down the length of the walkway, kicking a trampled soda can when it crossed my path. My friends, all respectively called Ross, George, and Adam, well, Hann for the most part, were lounging with their feet dangling over the edge of the ramp. We all wore black and white, which was something our almost-band of the time did as some sort of statement. She was there with us, in sunbleached jeans. I had made Hann bring his old skateboard with us because I was convinced I could do it, but after ingesting some questionable pills and smoking some weed they all laughed at me and said that I couldn't do it.
To prove them wrong, just because I wanted to be a bitch about it, I snatched the board from underneath Hann's arm and threw it down to the bottom of the ramp, and said, "Just fucking watch this."
I managed to skate forward on the flat part of the ramp, and then once I finally got a good enough balance I pushed myself towards a slant, but once I got off a horizontal surface I lost my balance and slammed my hands against the wall, while tripping over my shoes. The rest of them laughed and George even clapped his hands, Ross throwing himself back to rest on his forearm as he watched me try once more, failing though - again.
"Shut it." I mumble, as I climb up the ladder, angrily forcing the skateboard back into Hann's chest. He scowled back at me before cracking a smile once more. He was happy that I proved I couldn't skateboard. Whatever.
She came over to me, and straddled my lap whilst placing my blunt back in between my teeth. "You did wonderful." She tells me. I take a breath in and roll my eyes. After the milky smoke leaves my open mouth, she leans forward and kisses me.
I continue to mope and we shotgun my doobie until there’s nothing left of it. It’s slow going and we don’t say much. We’ve all been around each other enough to know what’s already been happening. I spend almost all my time with my boys, not to mention her, so there might be a chance that we each know more about each other than we do ourselves.
“I think it’s about time we break more of these out.” Ross mumbles, digging into his sweatshirt pouch. He pulls out a small baggy of white pills, the kind that we always swallow when we need a good high. We all exchanged sly smiles, and she was the first to pluck a few from Ross’s palms, with her legs still on both sides of my lap. She gives me the first one, placing it down on my tongue and I roughly swallow it, the odd feeling of a hard object going down my throat had now become almost fictional because I’ve done this so many times.
The high at first kicks me hard, and I’m instantly slapped with fatigue. She sees my eyes get heavy, and she runs her fingers through the long part of my hair. I smile at her and she gives me a sympathetic, “my poor tired baby”-smile. She helps my head down into her lap were I close my eyes, waiting for the more glowing, part of getting high to push its way through. What drugs to do me, man, it’s strange. I have no idea how the fuck it happens.
