Sunshine streamed in through the curtains, making a dull blue room appear bright and cheery. Beyond the harsh buzz of an alarm clock, I could hear the typical sounds of morning. Feet scuffling, the clatter of dishes, a soft humming and the scratch of claws against wood were all apart of waking up.
“Maybe today will be different,” I think as I get out of bed, but deep down I know it’s not true. My name is Alan Weiss, and I’m fifteen years old. Every day I start with the same thing. I walk to the bathroom and knock on the door until my older sister comes out shouting. Then I slam the door and comb my ebony colored hair until every strand is perfectly in place. Afterwards I get dressed for school and head out the door with,
“Bye, Mom. I’ll be back after five,” then she always responds,
“Okay, Alan. Be safe,” and Snow, our golden retriever, prances over and licks my hand. After that, I’m gone. Truth is, I haven’t been to school in weeks. School really isn’t for me. I hate all my teachers, I’m failing every other subject, and nobody in my class is anybody. What I do is way better, or at least it used to be. I walk up to my friend Matt’s giant mansion and knock on the door. He cracks it and says,
“What’s the password?”
“It’s me, Alan.”
“That’s not it.”
“Open up or I’ll tell Tiffany Collins about your doll collection.”
“Okay, okay. Can’t you take a joke? Besides, they’re not dolls, they’re figurines.”
“They wear dresses.”
The door swings open. Every time I come in, the all white Victorian décor never ceases to amaze me. Matt’s parents are loaded and almost never home, which makes his house ideal for hanging out.
“Let’s hit the pool today,” I suggest.
“No can do. It’s being cleaned today. The usual will be fine, right?”
We head upstairs to Matt’s room, the only place in the Evans’s house not colored like a Winter Wonderland. Luke and Jake, the twins, and Greg are already there, eating pizza and playing video games on Matt’s 52” flat screen. They toss me a controller while Matt goes downstairs. When he comes back, he has two cases of beer.
“This is why we love you, man,” Luke and Jake chorus.
“I thought it was ‘cause of this sweet set up,” Greg adds with a mouth full of pepperoni. Matt just laughs and tousles his thick brown hair. He passes the beer around, but when he comes to me, I shake my head.
“No thanks. I’m trying to ease up on that stuff.”
“Come on, dude. Just take it.”
“Do it, do it, do it,” the twins start. Soon everyone joins in, their rhythmic chanting assaulting my eardrums.
“Okay,” I begin, but this doesn’t stop them. “Guys I-” these words just make them speed up.
“Okay, I’ll take one!” I shout. They let out a cheer. “But just one.”
The last time I counted, I was on seven, and that was four beers ago. Or was it five? My head’s too foggy to remember. The room is spinning, and I hear shouting, an earsplitting crash, then everything goes quiet. I close my eyes and drift off into darkness.
“Alan! Alan, get up!”
My eyes flutter open. Light blinds me, accenting the pain I feel in my now throbbing head.
“Finally, you’re awake. Do you know how much trouble you caused, and better yet, how much trouble you’re in? Answer me!”
When my vision clears up, I see a familiar face. Dark but graying hair, my deep blue eyes, with my bedroom in the background.
“Mom?” I say dumbly.
“No, it’s the Pope. Of course it’s me!”
I try standing up, but my body’s so heavy I can only get into a sitting position.
“Your principal called and asked how your broken ankle was doing and when you’d be back. Then the Evans called and told me to pick up my inebriated son from their house. The Evans! Of all the people to embarrass me in front of, it had to be the Evans! Why, I’ve never-” I silenced her with a hug.
“I’m sorry. I tried to quit, really. But just one turned into three, and five, and then I couldn’t stop. I didn’t mean to.” By now, tears were coming in torrents, and I lost my words. She sighed.
“Well, I suppose all we can do at this point is to get some professional help.”
“Will I get better?”
“Yes, Alan. You’ll get better.”
She closed her eyes. “I promise.”
- Title: Quit
- Artist: Aurora Lee Ann
- Description: An essay from eighth grade about substance abuse. Well, we had to write a story about teenagers who abuse alcohol/drugs, and this is what I did.
- Date: 04/08/2012
- Tags: quit
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