The Secret Life...

16

At some point, we all moved on from the home when we got old enough. Cooper went first, being the oldest. It was hard for us all, because Coop was liked by everyone. He brought a sense of fun and happiness to the home. Whenever things were hard, whenever someone had some shit to deal with, Coop came in with a joke or a crazy story. He was probably hiding some dark shit underneath just like us all but on the surface, he looked like he didn't have a care in the world. I didn't know a lot about his real parents. He never talked about them, but then, neither did most of the kids at the home. They'd learned to survive without their parents and most of them preferred to forget about them. They'd all been let down or hurt in some way and talking about it didn't make it any easier.

Jared and I wanted to go with him to help him move, but Miss Gwen reminded us we had homework to do and promised we could go in a few days time once he was settled in. It felt strange, him not being around. Yet it was a reminder to us all, especially us older kids, that one day the time would come when we were trusted in the big bad world all on our own.

We kept in touch with  Coop for a while while he was staying in Missouri, but then he upped and moved to Illinois. I couldn't blame him for moving further away. There were a lot of bad memories for him in Missouri. Over the years, I heard he'd moved again to different states, but eventually we lost touch completely. Soon after, I lost touch with Jared too.

When I was old enough to leave the kids home, I started off in a small apartment on the 16th floor of a high rise building. It was run down and the elevator never worked. Music blared from other apartments at all hours and the front door was always surrounded by kids on bikes. It wasn't all bad. I got a job at a local gas station and while it didn't pay a lot, it was nice to be earning my own money. I met my best friend in that apartment block too. Warren Grimes. He was referred to as 'Warren G' by everyone he knew, so I always knew him by that too. He lived in the apartment opposite me and the first time I met him, he was high as a kite and had left his front door open so you could see in from the hallway. When he saw me looking when I returned from my shift at the store one night, he called me in for a smoke. I was apprehensive, but something told me he was friendly.

Warren had spent time in care too as a kid. His father was in prison and his mom had died when he was a kid. He'd stayed with his grandma till he was 12 but then she died. He'd gone straight to a kids home and stayed till he was ready to live on his own. He had a kid when he was 15 but his baby mama didn't let him see him. The more we talked, the more we realised how much we had in common. He loved music too, and we spent that first night smoking weed and listening to music, sharing favourite songs and artists.

For weeks, I worked at the gas station and went to Warren's apartment after to listen to music and smoke. It had never occurred to me whether Warren worked. He had never mentioned a job, but he always seemed to have enough money for plenty of weed. One night he introduced me to cocaine. A few nights later, he told me he sold drugs. Now it made sense, how he always had drugs and money, plus the latest Jordans on his feet. I never liked the idea of drug dealing. My parents were drug addicts and the dealers that sold it to them didn't care they had a kid, but Warren wasn't a bad guy. He told me how much money he could get from selling and it made my wage at my job seem pathetic. I eventually started selling too, on the side of my job. Nothing heavy, just weed, but it filled my pockets better than the store.

The more we spent time together, the more he introduced me to his lifestyle. I went out on some deals with him as we drove round the city. We bought fast food from drive-thru's and listened to music in the car. We'd smoke and meet girls, inviting them back to our apartments. I lost count of the girls I slept with and never saw again.

For a while, I felt pretty happy with my life. I had a job, I learned to drive and got a car, I got drunk and high more times than I can count, and I had a good friend in my life. I made more friends through my job and at the apartments. Things were okay.