try hard // luke hemmings

Chapter Fifteen

[[ there were publishing issues and the rest of chapter fourteen was cut off/deleted. So if you read the portion that was cut off, I'm sorry, but I'm going in a different direction xx ]]

I was walking past the bleachers when I smelled it: the sweet rocket to the moon. Carefully, I duck under the hangar and push my way to the middle huddle, where I see Charlie. "Cheyanne! I didn't expect to see you again!" he exclaimed, pushing past the crowd of stoners.

He smiled when he got to me. "What are you doing here?" He asked. "I want more."

His smile was quick to disappear. ''I can't give you more, Chey." I feel my brows furrow together and a look of confusion forms on my face. "Why not?"

"Meth is dangerous," he explains. "It's easy to become highly addicted. I can't give you anymore until I know you're okay. That you're not one of the burnouts." He says sternly, looking me in the eye while doing so.

I'm quick to nod. "I'm more than okay. I promise." I rush.

Still, Charlie is hesitant; he won't move from his spot. "You're not going to give me any." I state, rather than question. Charlie sighs, running a hand behind his neck. ''No. I won't." He says. "Not this time around, no."

I sigh, staring at my feet, then after some seconds in silence, I turn and start walking away. Not soon after, do I hear footsteps behind me. "Wait, Chey. Let's buy lunch. Or a cookie or something. C'mon, my treat." Charlie offers.

Together, we walk to the lunch line and indeed, Charlie buys two cookies. He leads me out to the bank of cars that are in the student lot, near the courtyard. I take a bite of the cookie, the first solid food in my stomach in a while.

In the thirty minutes left of lunch, I learn more about Charlie then I would've found out on my own. He was a like able person. Sure, he hung out with them, the burnouts, potheads, but he wasn't like them at all. He was sweet and I found out the true reason he was behind all this dealing.

"So you have three little brothers and a sister?" I ask in confirmation. "Yeah," he nods, throwing his cookie wrapper away. "The money, it all goes to help them. My parents don't know. I don't know what I would do of they knew. But they need it. Dad's a wounded soldier. Mom works nights at the hospital. They're hardly making enough to live. This is just until I get a steady job."

"Sort a like what I do." I blurt.

"What do you do?" he inquires, leaning forward on the cafeteria table. Shit. "Nothing. I don't do nothing. Forget I said anything."

Charlie looks like he's about to say something, but then the bell rings and I escape to sixth period.

I don't see Charlie the rest of the day and when the dismissal bell rings, I'm quick to get on the school bus home. I'm scrolling through my assignments that Logan texted me to have done before he gets home as I walk down my street, so I don't see the boy leaning up against his car in my driveway.

I slow my walk to a cautious pace and make it to my house without overreacting.

He pushes himself off the side of his car and makes his way to me "I'm gone for a couple days and I hear that you're hanging out with those bloody potheads?" he asks in greeting. "Well, hello to you too," I mumble. I walk up the grass, headed inside. His hand catches my arm, pulling me back. "What did you say to me?" he growls.

"Wow. Looks like L.A didn't treat you right. Not enough girls to sleep with or what?" I fire back. "I said hello. A word that may not be in your vocabulary?"

"It is in my vocabulary." He protests. "You're changing the subject. Potheads? Really, Chey?" he asks. "They're not potheads! They're crystal meth users. Does that make you feel better?"