Author's Note: I realize some people might not understand some words in this. I'd hate to have a key (kind of distracting and then people would have to scroll up)...but here's one:

Blitzed = High

Toke (up)= To smoke marijuana

April twentieth (4/20) = A marijuana smoking "holiday" (common in the US)

Blunt = Marijuana in a cigar wrap

Ganja = Marijuana

Bowl = A glass pipe used for smoking.

Hit = To take a drag off a marijuana joint, bowl etc

Bud = Marijuana

Half-o = Half ounce

Nug = nugget of marijuana

“No, no one takes a hit until twelve.”

The argument ended there. There were four of us lying on the bed. Brady had his arm around me and I was slowly nodding off. Lyle and Kurt were on the opposite end with as much distance between them as possible. No matter what our positions were, we all looked spent. I guess we could be described as stoners or slackers. Our stereotype wasn‘t an issue. The main thing was that we were all comfortable with each other. We were all friends. But there was some tension in the room. And it only escalated when Kurt spoke up.

“Twenty more minutes,” his low voice drifted slowly over to us. He had his eyes on the clock next to me. I’m sure he had been staring at it the whole time. I could tell he was already blitzed, he always was. He was the type of guy that would toke up in the morning, afternoon—whenever. I felt Brady’s muscles go taut right when he heard Kurt. But he stayed silent. There was a cigar circulating around the four of us. It was supposedly Cuban, but you can only trust people to a certain extent. Lyle slowly passed it to me.

I’m pretty sure he had his eyes closed. His baseball cap was pulled down over them. I took the cigar in one hand and avoided looking down at it as I placed it between my lips. I smoked it but I wanted to be smoking a joint...all of us did. But for some reason, today, Brady wanted to prove that we were different than those other saps at school...the ones who toke up on April twentieth. He says that only tools do it then. And they just do it because they’re looking for any damn reason to smoke weed. We’re not like that. We don’t toke up to celebrate or to be cool. We don’t need weed to have a good time.

That’s why we’re lying here. We’re thinking up ideas on what to do with our extra time. But so far all we came up with was to smoke the cigar and to change the CD we were listening to. Not a lot was going on. Hell, I even thought about stepping outside to light up a blunt on my own. I couldn’t do that though, not to Brady. This was important to him—to us. So there I lay, hoping to fall into a daze to distract myself...hoping for anything.

Lyle stirred and bolted upright. I glanced at him quickly but all he did was lean over and turn up the volume on the CD player. I groaned and rubbed at my eyes. He’s very particular when it comes to music. I had no idea who we were listening to. I wasn‘t really paying attention when he picked it out.

“Who’s this?”

“Kottonmouth Kings,” he responded hastily without looking at me. I’ve never heard of them but I didn’t continue the conversation. He had his cap over his eyes again. And I was still holding the cigar. People say you’re not really supposed to smoke it. But I didn’t care. I began inhaling deep and forcing myself to hold the smoke in my lungs for a few seconds before exhaling. I figured that if I did this a lot that it’d cut off enough oxygen to my brain and get me high.

But Brady was watching me and he immediately took the cigar from me once a smile spread out across my face. I didn’t protest when he put it in his mouth. I was already feeling lightheaded and that was good enough for me. So I sat back and let myself sink further into the crook of his shoulder. I felt good...but I didn’t feel as good as I felt on Tuesday. That day we realized we had a half day of school on Thursday. So we figured what the hell, why not?

Toking up on Tuesday was our treat for remembering. Lyle even bought from Trevor instead of Ryan. It was grade A ganja. I’ve never passed out from smoking before, but that day I did. Before I passed out Brady was talking to me. He was saying that we should get married right after we graduate high school. I don’t remember exactly what he said. I can only piece a few things together...and that’s what I came up with. And I agreed with him. I didn’t know if he just said those things because he was high. I didn’t know if he meant it or not. But I wanted to believe that he did.

I liked being in his arms. I liked being the focus of his affection. Two years ago I could never have pictured myself getting a guy like him. I could never have pictured myself acting or doing the things I do now. Especially pot. Without it I was no one. I was just that nice quiet girl in class...the kind that got good grades but wasn’t a teachers pet. The kind that isn’t memorable at all. But with pot, I actually mattered. With it I was actually cool. I guess that’s all that matters because I’m happier now. I had Brady now. I snuggled into him more and he began caressing my arm with one hand.

“Hey, Kristen...you have your bowl on you right?” Kurt asked me lazily.

I nodded, reached into my hoodie and tossed the bowl into his lap. He retrieved it with a smirk and examined it for a second. He then started scraping the inside of it with a screw to get rid of the cay—ash that got stuck to the sides from last time. We all like taking hits off my bowl. There are three holes inside it so taking one hit is pretty strong. And it looks the coolest, it has a braided stem. Kurt stopped scraping and blew on it a few times. Small flecks of ash flew out. Kurt then smiled and nudged Lyle.

“Get your blunt wraps man because,” Kurt’s voice trailed off and he started pointing towards me. Confused, Lyle removed his cap and sat up. I glanced left then right, completely oblivious. What did I do?

That’s when we all turned to see what Kurt was pointing at. It was the clock. It read 11:59PM. We all focused in on it. Brady adjusted his seating and stopped rubbing my arm. Well, he let go of me altogether and I slouched into the wall. It was as if I couldn’t sit up all on my own. I missed his closeness. But I twisted my neck awkwardly to get a better view of the clock. Lyle’s eyes widened. We watched and waited for that nine to roll over. Then it happened.

All at once Lyle and Brady started fumbling for something. It was like they were racing. Lyle grabbed for the wraps and Brady went for the baggy. We all knew that the clock was ten minutes fast. But none of us said anything.

“Roll one,” Lyle passed me a wrap to hand to Brady. It wasn’t really a new one. I guess he couldn’t find any. So he had just scraped out the insides of a cigar. He didn’t do a good job at cutting it open either. But we stopped staring at it when Brady held up the baggy. It was bulging and just about the largest amount of bud I had seen.

“I got a half-o,” he exclaimed proudly. Our mouths gaped.

“Shit, how much was that?”

“One sixty,” Brady grinned and opened the baggy. I could smell it from where I was. It was strong but somewhat damp. He reached inside, took out a nug and passed it to me. There were orange hairs all over it. I handed it over to Kurt so he could break it up and put it in the bowl. Next to me, Brady worked on the soon-to-be joint. And in what seemed like seconds, the bowl was already lit and coming my way. The joint was already half full. In what seemed like seconds we were all smiling and talking about whatever came to mind.

White plumes of smoke spewed out from in between my lips. Glassy eyed, I turned to Brady and laughed. He leaned in to kiss me. And for some reason, I thought about the cigar. I didn’t know what happened to it and I could’ve cared less. I just wanted to relax and get blitzed

Lyle said something funny. I didn’t hear what it was but everyone around me was laughing. And I laughed too. I loved these guys. We came from different backgrounds but I knew we were the same. I mean, the neighborhood we lived in was a dump. But, it didn’t bother us, we were used to it. We were proud of it.

I used to live in the city but my parents moved me out of Chicago because they didn’t want me to be corrupted by the violence. They figured I was better off in the suburbs. And maybe they were right. I couldn't think of a better place to be. There was some violence here though. Or well, the violence, it was all talk...but the drugs, the drugs were real.