Young Writers Society

My friend asked my to write her a short story, so this is what I came up with at 2:30 in the morning. d:

"Ebony..." My name was echoed from the other line of my cellular phone. "Ebony... please..."

I reopened my eyes and responded in a dry voice,

"What?"

"Please... just, please... help me." She pleaded. I could tell she was crying, that she was breaking,

my beautiful friend was disintegrating in guilt.

"I, I don't know Bailey." I croaked out. I pressed a hand to my forehead, my eyes closing. I exhaled

slowly, brushing back my bright blond hair. I sat up slowly after no response, "Bailey. I love you, yes.

But you are killing yourself. I don't want any part in it!"

I heard a few sniffles receive on the other line, "I know that Eb... but, my 'rents, they... they are going

to kick me out if I don't stop. And it's too late for that now. You're the only one I can turn to. Hide my

stash, please!"

I took charge, not feeling weak anymore,

"Bailey, no. I am not feeding to your addiction anymore. Goodbye." And with that, I shut my phone.

I woke up in my lone room the next morning, thinking of the actions that accrued not even 5 hours

ago. I remember it like a dream.

I was sleeping so comfortably in my bed, snoring lightly to my own rhythm. Then, a vibrating incense

awoke me. I lifted my head, eyes trying to focus to the bright light of my phone.

"Bailey Loves" it read. I slammed my head down and groaned.

On the fourth vibration, I flipped the device open, "What do you want?"

"I need your help."

At this, the only thing that came to mind was the drugs. "What-what do you need?" My voice was more

awake, my eyes adjusting to the light coming through my blinds.

"I need you to hide my stash for me. Just for about a month or three. Really, I need you to. After that

you'll never hear of it again, I promise!" She spat out really fast, so that I wouldn't interrupt I guess.

"Baily, it's one o'clock in the morning... I'm going to sleep." As I pulled the phone away from my ear,

ready to shut it when I heard

"Ebony..."

I shook my head, closing my eyes tight, clearing my mind of any thoughts from last night. But even

after I showered, blow dried and straightened my bright blond hair, applied my vibrant makeup

to my pale, glowing skin, Bailey's drug addiction still remained into place.

"Sweetie, are you up? You have to leave in twenty minutes!" I heard my mother call from the bottom

of the steps.

"I'm up, Mom. Give me about five minutes." I continued on my appearance, quickly running to gather

my books from the bottom of my messy floor.

I made it out the door no less than I intended. I hauled to the end of the street, meeting up with the

four people I caught the bus with my whole life:

Kasey

Dillon

Fitch

and...

...Bailey.

There was obviously tension when I arrived, and all the chatter I heard from a few feet away disappeared.

Why is she so mad? Shouldn't I be the angry one here!

Bailey moved over to the curb and sat down, her black hair fell around her shoulders, the neon strings

of color fallowing suit.

I made a move to go near her, but Fitch placed a hand out and shook his head. I burrowed my eyebrows

as my eyes started to water. What was happening? Bailey was mad at me because I wont hide her stash,

so now she might be kicked out because she refuses to stop and I wont feed her addiction any longer.

This was so frustrating!

'Screw taking the bus with these people, I'm walking.' I thought, and stormed off in the direction of my

school.

From first to seventh period, I skipped. I skipped it all. The whole school thought I was absent, except for

the four people who I ran into this morning. The whole time, I was under the bleachers, thinking.

Bailey was a drug addict. She has been since she was thirteen.

Her seventeenth birthday is in five months.

When will this stop?

I heard the final bell ring and I emerged from my hiding spot before the Field hockey girls saw me. Instead of

taking my shortcut to my house, I walked to Bailey's. We needed to talk. This needed to end.

I knocked on the door of the Resivour household, waiting for Bailey's better-than-thou mother to appear,

apron on, baking mittens in place.

But no.

Nothing replied.

I looked at the driveway. Aha! No one was home yet!

I knew Bailey was though, so she should have answered by now. I knocked a few more times,

"Bailey! Open up!" I called out. "Bailey! Seriously, come on!" I knocked a little harder by now, but then the door

opened.

I stepped inside and peered around. Nothing nor no one was near, except for a retched smell that was intoxicating

to my nose. I scrunged my face and looked around, trying to find the source of this demising smell.

I fallowed it up the stairs and straight to Bailey's room.

I knocked, it might have been the smell of burning drugs. I opened... and I screamed.

There she was, my beautiful friend, disintegrating.

Bailey Resivour died that afternoon. She went home to think. She knew she was already killing herself,

so she stopped the suffering. Bailey took her life that night, with a drug overdose and a slit wrist.

It was my fault... I could have helped. If I was in school, we could have talked. If I rode the bus, we could

have talked. If I would have helped her instead of pushing her away, we could have talked.

But no, the last thing I ever said to the one person who meant the world to me, was "Goodbye."

(Mod Edit: Changed rating to PG-13.)