"You smell of weed." My friend, Blake said, scrunching up his nose. I simply sighed back in response, slightly annoyed at my failed attempt to get the smell off me.
After spending the whole weekend with David, it was almost inevitable that the smell of weed would rub off on me. What I didn't expect was for it to stay there for two days. David didn't seem to care that I hated the smell and kept on smoking, spewing some stupid story about how it helped him calm down and without it he would be reckless.
I just sighed in response, failing to see the logic in his reply.
Lately, David and I have been far apart than usual. Don't get me wrong, I still have love for him but I don't think I can keep up with his lifestyle anymore.
I'm not the same naive kid that wanted a taste of a bad boy; itching to find out what it was like. David and I got together in a time where he was the bad boy of the school and everyone wanted to be with him. It made me feel special that he chose me—almost made me feel like royalty.
Nowadays—I feel like crap.
David would skip out on me to protect his friends, go on random jobs at night and come back with either blood, weed or cash. Sometimes, all three. And I never argued. Just simply looked him up and down and gave up, knowing that he wouldn't listen to any of my pleas. Before it was hot but now—being consistently worried has me feeling different.
"Yeah." I said, digging at my food. "David was smoking again at the weekend."
"Didn't you say you would break up with him?" He asked, biting his lip slightly. I almost noticed a bitter tone in his voice when referencing David and I. Was he jealous? Did he wish he had what we did? He shouldn't be. David and I had nothing anymore—just the distant feeling of love.
"I did. But now i've changed my mind and I'm still with him." I said, looking up from my plate. "Do you have a problem with that?" Blake stared at me for a while before shaking his head slowly, turning back towards his meal.
I followed suit, my eyes going back to my plate as the rest of my friends walked over, each bursting with conversation.
-
It was the end of school and I was waiting for David outside. He had texted me in Biology, stating that he would pick me up at 3.30. I simply replied back with "Okay" not bothered to carry on the conversation. David didn't reply back after that and I wasn't too bothered about that. Our conversations lately were bland—nothing other than what I would do in the future and what David wished he could do.
According to him, getting into a gang, beating up people and causing mayhem was something that he couldn't get out of. David made it seem as if he signed an oath to give away his life and there was nothing that he could do to get it back. I didn't fully understand him. But what I did understand was that this "gang" was the only thing keeping David away from his full potential.
Don't get me wrong, David wasn't smart. In fact, I'm surprised that he even passed 4th grade. But sometimes—just sometimes, David surprised me. He would say something smart, or logical, something that he learnt from watching tv when it was stuck on Ted Talks because he didn't pay for cable. David made it seem like he was being tortured by all that knowledge but he would retain it like it was nothing.
It made me wonder what he would become if his life was different. If his mother didn't skip out on him and leave him with his deadbeat father. If David got shoved into a boarding school and taught discipline instead of how to hold a gun. If David was told not to take part in such activities, rather than having a father that would lock him out until the early hours of the day, forcing David to spend his time outside.
I just wondered; what if.
A car beeped in the distance, telling me it was David. I picked my bag up from the bench beside me, stepping closer to the sidewalk as his car reached me.
"Hey." he said, a smile on his face. David reached over, opening the passenger door for me. "How was school?"
I shrugged, getting into the car. "Same old."
David nodded slowly, turning to face the road as he drove down it. I stared out the window, watching the school whizz by, wondering, what if I was in David's position.
What if I didn't have parents that cared and forced me to get an education. Would I be going to University next year? Would I be going on to study medicine? Or would I be on the streets, selling drugs, stealing cars—selling myself.
All these questions circled my brain and I only thought one thing after; Thank God Im not like David.
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Finally updated.
