The boy knew of his mom's problems, her addictions. She had offered him a cigarette or two before, but he always refused. He only took cigarettes from his friends.
The boy's corrupt friends were not his closest. But they were his oldest. Sometimes, not often, they came to his house when they wanted to. He didn't stop them. Neither did his mom.
Just don't finish the liquor was all she remarked, before leaving for the night.
Sometimes, the boy wondered. About this life with this mom with these friends — if he enjoyed this life, or could even tolerate it. His emotions and thoughts were all mixed up, jumbled until he wasn't sure how he felt about anything.
Right now, he was just running with it. Sometimes, he wondered if things would never change.