•͟U͟N͟D͟E͟R͟S͟T͟A͟N͟D͟ ͟c͟a͟r͟t͟i͟u͟z͟i͟•͟

XIV

Being a good person, I didn't check my phone all through the pain of sitting in parking lot traffic or all the way home. Texting and driving was bad, and I strived to separate myself from the bad that surrounded me. I'd stopped smoking as a sophomore, alongside Symere, who was claiming to want to stop; his ass couldn't stay away from the weed though, and he would still smoke, even if he didn't want to admit it.

It was already bad enough that I had been held back in the seventh grade, and would be graduating high school at 19, so whenever a negative event occurred, I got as far away from it as possible. I had a near-entirely clean record, both criminal and school, and was doing amazing in all my classes; I wished to keep this up by any means necessary.

Once I arrived home, I checked my phone to see that Jordan had replied with a snap nearly ten minutes ago. Not wanting to keep him waiting, I opened it right there in the driveway.

$IR CARTIER🤑👽🥵: ofc, I would never lie about symere

Something about that statement made me feel really guilty about what I had said before. Jordan seemed to be a really nice, while genuinely misunderstood person, who cared about my best friend and seemed to truly love him. I took another photo of my steering wheel, captioning it with:

RAKIM MAYERS🥱: im glad to hear that; im not just gonna give my child away to the first dude that shows up

I hopped out of ASAP and bolted into my house, and upstairs to my room. My dad was at work for Coca-Cola in Atlanta, and Mom was on a business trip in Augusta, so I had the house to myself for the night. I bellyflopped onto my bed and opened my phone again, to see that Jordan had already responded. Damn, this kid had dedication.

$IR CARTIER🤑👽🥵: no, id never intentionally hurt symere. obv you used to think that i did but i jus didn't know what to do then, and didn't mean to hurt him; anyways, any word on symere?

RAKIM MAYERS🥱: nah, he hasn't said anything; im tryna get him to hang tonight though, just to kinda talk things over and see what he's tryna do wit monty

After sending the message to Jordan, I promptly called Symere over the phone, who picked up, sounding high.

"Mmmmm-hello?" Symere answered.

"Hey Syyyyyy, would you want to hang out tonight?" I asked.

"But its like Monday night, bruh."

"So?"

"School exists tomorrow, remember?"

"We went to Dairy Queen that one time on a school night, though."

"Is that what you're suggesting we do again?"

"Nah, I just need to walk around; get fresh air or sum shit."

"At DQ?"

"Noooooooo Lil' Vert; you down for an evening field trip to Centennial Olympic Park?"

Symere hesitated, but then agreed, "Fineeeeeeeee, and I like that nickname Rakimmmmm. Maybe I should give you onneeee."

I laughed, "Like?"

"Hmmmmmmmmmmmm," Symere speculated, "Rakim, Rakim, Rakim, Rakim, Rocky? ASAP and Rocky? What a dynamic duoooooo."

"ASAP and Rocky?" I asked, starting to laugh my ass off.

"Mhmmmmmmm Rockyyyyyyyyyy."

"Whatever you say, buddy. Is 7:30 good for you?"

"Yesssssssssss, 7:30 is fineeeeeee."

"Alright, I'll see you then." I laughed, hanging up. Symere, while smoking was bad for him, was undeniably adorable and hilarious, not in a gay way, when he was high. Honestly, having conversations with drunk or high people while sober was about as intriguing as attempting to have a conversation with a four-year old hopped up on Reese's Peanut Butter Cups.

I returned to Snapchat, to view Jordan's new snap he had left me while I was on the phone.

$IR CARTIER🤑👽🥵: sounds good, lmk how it goes

I replied, updating him on the situation, to which he seemed satisfied with. It was then that I got an idea: I would need more help tonight than just myself. I overviewed my options.

Symere obviously couldn't help the situation. Amala couldn't help tonight, but could probably help later on. I didn't want to bring Sheyaa into this, as he would probably lose his shit or crack under all of the plot points. Then it hit me: Miles. Miles is almost neutral towards most situations, but always wants the best for Symere.

I messaged Miles, asking if he wanted to hang out in around two hours, and he responded incredibly quickly, agreeing. No offense to Miles or anything, but he was always one of those people who masked their sadness with public positivity, in order to keep those around him in a good mindset about him. Miles, no matter how hard he tried, could never manage to get a relationship of any kind, even as a senior in high school. It was a damn shame too, because while he hid his inner-self, he was an extraordinarily outgoing individual when he liked the people he was around, which in all honesty, should be the thing that matters, but oh well, I'm going off on a tangent.

Basically, Miles spent most of his time alone, bored, and eager to do anything, which was another plus, at least in this situation. The two hours that stood between my message to Miles, and the time of our meetup went surprisingly quickly. I took ASAP out of the driveway, and then shot down US 278 to Miles' neighborhood. Lithia Springs' district managed to be huge, an odd side effect of attempted gentrification, but instead of giving white folks their desirable Starbucks and hipster micro-breweries, it just made really long drives for me whenever I wanted to hang out with friends, which I never complained about.

Driving was always an escape for me; I never really knew what it was about driving that was so comforting to me, but whenever I drove, everything around me seemed to fade away, and I was just one with myself. Anyways, I arrived at Miles' crib, and called him, telling him to get his ass into ASAP, which he didn't hesitate to do. Once he was secure in the side seat, I told him almost the exact same thing that I told Amala over the phone. Miles stared at the dashboard, after I had informed him all of what I had been told, and then asked, "How the fuck are we supposed to trust this guy?"

I gave him the evidence of the time lineups, and everything else I had accumulated, as well as my suspicions towards certain persons. "Shit, I'll agree with you on this, but you do realize that if Symere finds out that you've been helping someone that he essentially hates get with him, and it doesn't work, you can just kiss him goodbye." Miles reasoned. I nodded my head, understanding. I always tried to measure consequences before I acted upon anything. I guess I could consider it a bad habit, even though it wasn't really a bad thing to do.

Losing Symere as a friend was the last thing I wanted, but I also remembered how much he loved Jordan while they were close with one another, and now that I know they felt the same way, I had to help, for both parties.

"Is that all you wanted to talk about wit' me?" Miles asked, grabbing the door handle.

"Nah, we're going to pick up Sy, and we're going to Atlanta."

Miles tilted his head, "On a Monday?"

"WHAT ELSE ARE YOU GONNA DO?"

Miles laughed, hitting me on the shoulder, and buckling his seat belt, as I revved ASAP to life, driving towards Symere's house, ready for our Paper Towns-esque trek upon Atlanta.