Page 43 of The Other Half

I’ve dabbled with pills plenty, but they aren’t my thing really. All they do is put me to sleep usually.

I look around to make sure Nate isn’t nearby. I’m sure he’s snuck off with one of the trailer park hoes by now. I lean in closer to the creep so I won’t have to speak too loudly. “How much for a quarter-gram of the speed?”

The guy shoots me a partially toothless grin. “For you, $5.”

I reach into my pocket and pull out my money. I have just enough, five singles. It was the change Nate gave me after his liquor store run.

What am I doing? Am I really about to buy meth?

I know a lot of people who use it. It’s the drug of choice in this part of the country, it’s cheap and easy to make. But I never pictured myself being one of them, really. I just want this fucking feeling to go away. I can’t believe I’m crying over a girl. A girl that lied to me to protect her asshole dad, no less.

I hand him the money before I’ve even made up my mind about it and he pulls out two small bags of white powder.

“You wanna match a line with me?”

I don’t really want to spend anymore time with this creep, but I nod anyway. He pours out some powder from both bags and cuts it up into lines on the coffee table, then he hands me a rolled up dollar bill.

I snort one of the lines and feel the instantaneous rush of euphoria spread through my skull. The taste of chemicals just barely trickles into my throat. I suddenly feel a lot better than I did twenty seconds ago. We pass the dollar back and forth until all the lines are gone.

“Pleasure doing business with you, brother.” The guy wipes the remaining residue of powder from the table and licks it off his finger. Gross. He walks away and disappears into the crowd of bodies.

I feel great, like I could conquer the world. So I guess this is why so many people end up being meth heads.

A lanky, bleach blonde saunters up to the couch holding a Four Loko. She kind of looks like a taller, off-brand version of Oakley. Maybe I can squint my eyes just enough while she sucks me off and trick myself into pretending.

I probably shouldn’t be interacting with anyone that reminds me of her at all, that’s not going to help the situation. But I’m too crossfaded to really use my logical mind at the moment.

“Hi,” the bleach blonde chirps suggestively as she sits down on the couch, her dress riding up her thigh as she scoots in closer to me.

“Hey,” I wrap one arm around her and lay my free hand on her bare thigh.

“I’m Brandy,” she slurs.

“Oliver.” I’m not interested in exchanging any more pleasantries so I capture her mouth in a kiss that’s anything but intimate. There’s one goal here and we both know what it is.

“Oliver?” I hear Amber’s voice from somewhere behind me and I pull my face from Brandy’s.

“What do you want, Amber?”

“You’re doing this? For real?” She motions between Brandy and I.

“Why the fuck do you care?”

She ticks her tongue a few times. “Guess I can tell Oakley I told her so,” she laughs. Of course, she doesn’t actually care about me, she’s just excited to make Oakley feel like shit. I should probably try to stop her, but what’s the point?

“Go for it,” I shrug.

“Are you tweaking?” Amber accuses, peering into my eyes.

“Fuck off,” I say, pulling Brandy onto my lap and going in for another kiss.

“And this whole time I thought Oakley was the loser in that relationship,” she snickers.

I push the girl off me and stand up. “Stop saying her goddamn name you bitch!” I never yell, especially at a woman. But she’s seriously pissing me the fuck off.

The room is suddenly quiet and everyone’s turned their attention towards us. As if this isn’t the type of thing that happens at all of these parties.

“Dude, what are you doing?” Nate rushes into the room, his hair disheveled.

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