Brandon. Yes, THAT Brandon.

Undercover Adventures With Marshall ('Call Him General')

"If I let you sit here, will you tell me?" I whisper in his ear. He huffs out air through his nose and bucks against me once. No, not fun. You aren't having fun, dammit- I place my hands on his waist anyway. Why does Conner, of all people, make me do stupid things?

"Squeeze me," he beckons.

"No, no. You gotta tell me what happened today. Can you tell me why you're so out of it?"

"Shhhh..." he gingerly puts a finger on my lips. "I know. I know."

"Are you gonna tell me?" I tease. I'm going to hell. I'm definitely going to hell. What does this say about me? I'm flirting and touching him-even though he's high. Even though he's out of it.

"Only because I love you."

Yikes, what do I know about drugs? Itches and outbursts and rapid heartbeat: probably meth. Cockiness and loudness: cocaine, I think. Conner is snuggling up to me as I go through my mental checklist. I'm in sudden desperation. What if it's something really bad? Um, um violence and dizziness is probably crack; I know what people are like when they've smoked pot... Christ...

Ecstasy. Loving on others, carefree, lack of focus. Ecstasy.

I don't remember where I learned all this crap.

"I missed you after you left," he says.

"Thought you hated me," I say softly, slowly letting my hand drift toward his back pocket to see if he still has any pills.

"No way. You're number one, Babe," Conner starts rambling on and on, just letting me slide my fingers into the back pocket of his jeans. I'm trying not to take in anything he says, but he keeps bringing up things that happened long before ('remember when you bought my ice cream at Sonic? That made me smile for an hour,' and 'you were the best kisser out of all those dumb boys; you got the prize' and 'every time you smiled at me, I knew I had you' are just a few painful ones, and it's a damn shame that the last time I had a conversation with him, he wasn't even this talkative), but I finally manage to slip the small ziplock from his pocket and place it in my own.

I know, I know. Sounds like a horrible plan. It's like I'm setting myself up to get caught, but I have a plan. I'm about as sure these are ecstasy pills as I am about being bisexual... about 95%, but just to make sure, I have to get confirmation.

Marshall Borderly knows more about something than I do, and that something is illegal substances.

As for Conner, he seems to be falling asleep with his head on my shoulder, yet he's still incoherently rambling. "Hey, you're gonna go home, alright?"

"I know."

"Right-" I stand up, Conner still attached to me, "now. Stand up." Conner's on his feet and smiling. "I'm gonna tell the nurse you were puking uncontrollably, your parents are at work, and I need to drive you home, alright? You don't say a word."

"Anything for you, Matt."

God help this boy.

*****

In little schools, this works just fine. I hear kids in the East wing do it all the time. Logan told me he got to drive himself home once without his parents calling. Plus, I'm one of the most reliable students here, surprisingly.

When I'm about twenty feet away from the school offices, I chicken out. I'm not necessarily the best liar, although I make do when needed. The possibility of the school board finding out the truth and blaming Conner's drug use on me is much higher than I thought out.