Higher Education The tan leathered Hunter Green Jeep pulled into the decrepit parking lot of the

old concrete factory eight miles outside of town. Concrete Hill party, echoed the halls all week. It was the last party before summer vacation and my last chance to climb the social hierarchy before three months of overbearing and disgustingly intrusive parents would undo all the hard work Id put in all year. Like every other concrete hill party, this would be the topic of conversation come Monday morning. Did you hear she sucked his dick in the woods? one would ask. Does her boyfriend know? Poor guy. Fuck him, I hear he treats her like shit, another would chime in, eventually convincing everyone he deserved it. Yeah, fuck him, the group would pronounce. I never expected to be that guy they were talking about, the one getting the blowie or the boyfriend, but I did kind of feel like Id reached the apprentice level of the high school life and could be the guy who turned around with an emphatic, In fact, Kendra did suck dick, two in fact, and Bobby did find out, thats why Tys got a black eye, and Steves hiding. They would envy my firsthand details. Pretty pathetic I wasnt even the coolest kid in my own fancies of grandeur. So this party, the epic one. Im going to it, and not only am I going to it, Im going to it with four of the members of the E-8, the selfappointed and unchallenged badasses of the school. And in a town where the only things to do were drink, have sex, do drugs and play sports, they were the hard-partying, well-connected, habit-forming, baby daddy, star-athlete Towny kids of the former, and there were more than eight of them. How I wished my parents had been Townys back thena quirk thats followed me from my years of wanting to be Puerto Rican when living in New Jersey. When we stopped in the parking lot, I thought we were at the hill and opened my door. Whatcha openin da do fo nigga? This nigga think we at the hill, Qbo, the soft-spoken knock-out king pointed out. Yeah, I Know, I said searching for something to redeem myself. I was just spitting. I spit, and closed the door. Dumbass. I dont think they bought it. I thought.to myself.awkwardly.looking.around. Youre fuckin up son. Natty? asked Sal, the senior Id let cheat off me in Spanish all year, who in kind was letting me get fucked up with him and his friends. Muchas gracias Espaol. I took the beer although I hated the taste of beer. My experimentations with booze until now had been confined to my bedroom during family gatherings where my two little sisters and our cousin would sneak shots of whiskey into cans of coke. Yo, pass me that Reggie, spoke Bird, the schools country boy center with the curly fro. Holding back cringes, I start to think, how in the fuck is reggie going to fit up in this mother fucker, figuring Id be tossed to the trunk soon enough, when a bag flies by my head and into Birds lap. A Cuban, which is what I thought all cigars were called took the same trajectory and he got to work. I leaned up to

try and get a glimpse of what he was doing. The grape smell filled the car as he licked the cigar, which I kind of imagined was how you licked a vagina, and then tore down the length of the cigar with his hands and dumped out the brownish stuff and replaced it with other brownish, barely greenish stuff, which deducing from what D.A.R.E. taught me was the illicit substance called Marijuana. My composure was immediately blindsided by my mother-inherent worst case scenario every personality complex. To say my mother is a glass half empty type would be to say the Nile is pretty long. My mother is a glass is all da guay emty, and brok-in, and toshin git guill gib jew a cut da guill gedinfecte by a fletch e dtin di sees dadol put jew in a guerl of medical det, you guon be eighbull tupee and den dayll teighk everytin guntil jew end up a hum less drug addicti ahmpuh tee. I imagined taking my first hit and every authority figure in our country coming out from behind the decoy trees in the field to arrest me. Id get sent to prison, my parents would disown me. Id fall into a life of crime and hard drugs ending up shanked for my crack by my moms drug addicted amputee. Thanks old gal. Yo, put wrap sumdem, called Anton, the other E-8 member, and our star running back. The driver, Charles, was in my grade, and the only sophomore in the group. He didnt play sports, he just did drugs and fucked bitches, and skipped through the CD to number 14. Out of nowhere, as if rehearsed, Ey yo this is no lie I I, me and my niggas getting high I i They knew every word, and I not a single one. What the fuck kind of childhood was I going through. I, like I had done all my life, just bobbed my head and tried to pick up inflections. The car started filling up with smoke and the panic was replaced by the all too familiar feeling of curiosity, which had at different times in my life made me smoke rolled up paper, condiments of all varieties, grass clippings, flowers that looked like weeds. I shouldve ended up all Into the Wild, but I was now here, one man away from getting the blunt. It was now or never. Fuck it, I thought and took a huge drag, not really knowing what to do next, when the taste of smoke and beer made my mouth tste like literal shit and I let it all out with a loud gag. I passed the blunt, got a weve all been there, and smoked another two or three rounds before it was tossed out the window. I expected something life-changing, but like many people have attested, I didnt get high my first time. I thought it was lame and hoped someone had a pack of cigarettes on them. Atleast they made me feel funny. ************************************************************** I dont smell anything, claimed Fernando taking a big whiff of my shirt the next morning- still out of breath from running to my house after my mentioning Id smoked. Fer was three years older than me, my cousin, and under the watchful eye of a strict household, as straightlaced as an 18 year old could be. What, you think I was gonna risk getting caught by my mom and dad? I sprayed my shirt with axe as soon as I got back. You really smoked? Yeah, like two blunts, and I drank a bunch of beer too.

Tight. He gave me a high five and sniffed my shirt again. I think I can smell it a little bit. Thats all it took. Within a month, we were spending Fers part-time paycheck and half my reduced lunch money on anything that claimed it would get us high. Like most 15 year olds dilemmas in small towns, the problem we had was consistency. We couldnt get it most of the time and when we did, we didnt get what we paid for. Everyone promised a good hookup, but no one came through. We needed a source. A couple of days was all we needed, and Frank popped in with a source. Spauldingwho may or may not have been in my grade-who may or may not have been involved in a murder back home, and though only a year older than me-had a face hardened by a childhood I surely would not have survived. I didnt get too curious. I just smoked what was in front of me. With its availability and my incredible lack of responsibility, I decided to experiment with being high as much as humanly possible. I didnt walk the dog any more, I stared at the ground while my dog took a shit. I mowed, high. I played tennis, high. I watched movies, high. I was high on my birthday and on my Moms. I went to church high, but only once. The sacrificial depictions that stared me down and the life-size Jesus nailed to the cross I half expected to climb down and set me on fire kept me from ever doing it again. But damn wasnt that the best body of Christ Id ever had, and that wine, life saving. So I would get high right after. I was looking at the world through different eyes. Everything was sharper, and even the most natural and insignificant occurences were now a bit better because I was high. It only lasted through the summer months, but like all good things illegal, my connection was arrested on robbery charges and deported. Back to square one. Fer, for as careful as he always was, had a knack for just doing things without thinking, hence the completely irrational decision to give a guy I know a tryin the shape of 200 dollars for a quarter pound of Reginold. Guy I know took the money, told Fer to hold on and disappeared into the only project in our town. Thirty minutes later, no guy. One hour went by, still no sign. Two hours later, Fer decided hed been ripped off and did what anyone whos bent on getting their money back would do- he got his friends. He came and got me. Why? I dont know. I was 57, 125, and not doing shit. We drove to the other side of twon and picked up two more able bodied gentlemen brought to life right out of the homies cartoon, friends hed made while hanging with Spaul. They didnt ask questions. They jumped in the car. They didnt have guns. They had machetes. Fer circled the project pointing out the dealers house-no wait, that one, he pointed to the next one. Yup, pretty sure its that one. Lets go around, suggested the older of the two, Mario. So no one can see us and shit. Mario was a thug, ceasar with a fade and lines shaved in. White T, dickies, the worksthe kind of kid my parents called bagos on a regular basisdemanding I pull up my pants showing off my mooseknuckle from having to tuck in my shirts. Alright nigga, you ready and shit? he asked unsheathing his machetehanding it to Fer. Lui, Marios brother, smacked the seat in front of

him in excitement Id only seen expressed when sitting in the parking lot of Disneyland for too long. Watchu bring cuz? Lui asked me. I didnt respond. Like a knife or some shit? No, I didnt. Probably shouldnt go in. I should stay here and keep the car running, for a fast getaway. You just a little bitch, he responded and turned away. I wanted to say something, but if the big fucking knife carrying Ese says Im a bitch, Im a bitch. Whateva, lets do this and shit, Mario took charge and the other two followed suit. Before he disappeared around the bushes, Fer turned, stuck the machete in the air and gave me a thumbs up with a giant grin before running to catch up. I was too nervous to do anything but stare at the spot they disappeared from. It seemed like forever and after a few minutes of possibly chickening out, I began to imagine how it was all going down. I was mid execution epic Corleone speech when the three came running around the house full sprint, bags and machetes in hand. Doors swinging closed I peeled out to a cool 25. Deafened by the adrenaline pumping, all I made out was nigga, machete, nigga, moneyweed- thatll teach him to fuck with us. I felt that by us, I was included. I wanted to take my new found phony balls and teach other people, mainly people I hated in school, to fuck with us. Three days later, I wanted us to the last thing I was associated with. A heavily bandaged drugless drug dealer was on the hunt for three motha fuckas done messed with da wrong nigga. When they split the loot, the machete twins kept the money, Frank kept the weed. And thats how I ended up with Dude, you gotta get rid of this shit for me. I gotta lay low for a while. He spoke in a panicked voice, knowing perhaps hed gotten in too deep. Youre the only one he didnt see. You gotta help me out. Fine, I agreed reluctantly, but I keep the money. Not all of it, half. Fine. He left and went home. For the next two months he was at work, then at home, nothing more. It took me almost a month to work up the nerve to start selling the stuff. Every day, Fer would call and ask if Id gotten around to getting rid of it. Just a bag, here and there, Id say knowing well Id been too chicken shit to sell it. I hadnt been around drugs very long, let alone selling them, but I found a strong correlation between drugs and selling novelty items through a wholesaler in a pyramid scheme Fer and I got suckered into the summer before. We sold maybe five items all summer, and I broke one order and had to borrow money from my parents to refund the customer. Door to door we decided, and set out in our khakis and polos to hit up about fifteen houses per day. Most everyone shut the door in our faces. The old people would take hours looking through the catalog, and then say Well, God bless you boys, but I dont think Im buying anything in there today, and send us on our way. Our starter kit for the low, low price of 450 dollars, which they said would be made back in our first order, never did. So we cut our losses and searched for the next thing. Bible

juice? Contains all the essential vitamins and minerals, plus a blessing from God? That merits a non-committal trial package right? The drug dealing business was off to no better start and door to door hadnt worked, so I decided to let the customer come to me. When no one came, it was up to me to let people know I could help them out. I made a list of all the people I knew smoked weed and a schedule of when to approach them with my pitch. Hi, its Adrien, I was wanting to let you know about a new business Ive been working on. Ive got some marijuana for sale. Call me or just stop by. Heres my card. Even in my daydream I only passed out seven before some snooty cunt snitched and I had to shoot my way out of the caf. I got some stuff if you ever need anything, I coyly dropped to a kid I knew smoked a lot of weed. I went for the direct method. What the fuck are you talking about? asked the lanky, black-t, JNCO wearing brass beaded necklace wearing white trash kid. I got some pot. Get the fuck out of here. He just walked away. My first attempted drug deal didnt go quite as rehearsed in my room the night before: Hey man, you need anything? Yeah, all of it, and Ill pay double. I cant go pick it up, but my super-hot slutty sister will be over after school to pick it up. Great. No such luck, but a few days later, Im walking down the hallway, tired from research (watching every drug movie I could find) when one of the E-8 guys approached me, ey man, I heard youre running point? I, befuddled, look at him, Nah man, Im not playing basketball this year. Im actually taking the time off to focus Nah nigga, I heard youre running point? Still nothing. Umm, but Im not pl This nigga. Can you help me out? That Id heard before. Yeah man, how much you needing? Lemme get a twamp, was all he said and disappeared into his class. I tried hiding the excitement of my would-be first drug deal when I realized I had seventh and eighth hours to figure out what a twamp was. I made it home, threw the duffel on my bed, and sat next to it. The time to meet was drawing near and I was no closer to discovering anything. I didnt have anything to weigh it out in, or even bags. I took a valued customer junk mail coupon envelope and held some weed in my hand. I dropped in what I thought looked like a twamp sounded, then threw in a little more. I envisioned myself the towns biggest dealer as I pedaled the few blocks to the dudes house, always being one step ahead of the local PD. Yo, you got that? he said before I even got off my bike. Yeah man, here, I handed him the envelope. He stood there for a few seconds. Aight then, good looking out, is all he said before he turned around and locked the door behind him. I waited there a couple minutes, thinking I mustve missed his Ill be right back with your money, and decided Id been suckered. Doesnt this guy know about the machetes?

From that day, if there was one mistake I was never going to make again, it was making charitable contributions in getting played like a bitch. I circled all the crime movies I could find on the HBO and Cinemax guides and reclined into my crash course on not taking any shit. Be tough. Act cool. Always act like you know whats going on. Get money first. Shoot first. Eliminate the competition. Dont get caught up in the drugs, and especially dont get caught up in the women who get caught up in the drugs. After the last credits had rolled on the last movie, I knew one thing, I wasnt gonna be in the game for life. Everyone fucks up or gets fucked if they stay in too long, and eventually everyone goes down. It was gonna be a til it runs out, but then Im done kinda movie for me. I took my new found knowledge and hit the halls running with such force, I figuratively figured a track scholarship was on its way. One week was all it took. By the next football game, I was selling about 10 handfuls a week at 20 dollars a pop. I was selling to the popular kids, the skanks, the blacks, the hicks, the art kids, and the jock straps-even the Mexicans. In one months time, Id brought the duffel down to book bag and a little over a grand in my sock drawer. Weed became my best friend. Weed got me invited to parties. It got me invited to the pits before school and hotbox sessions during lunch. It got me laid. I was having a blast being the hook-up for my towns drug addiction but when the rapping of needy knuckles started waking me up in the middle of the night, and got my annoying min-pin barking, I decided it was time to get out. I never really talked about where it all came from, and as long as I had it, no one seemed to care, or wonder. The day I left the game people started asking questions, mainly why cant you get anymore? The line of questioning led to whered you get it? I had no answer, and that got to mouths of people recently de-stapled wondering who this kid was that out of nowhere ended up with a bunch of weed. With Fer laying low and the Machete Twins doing whatever they did, the threat of best get me my money and my weed before you stop breathing fell solely on me. The endings of all the great crime flicks started mashing up in my head. I had until Fridayand then, a fightmaybe a confrontationa beatinga gun with a bullet with my name on itthe movies made it pretty clear. We need to get a gun, was Fers suggestion. You know where we can go get one? I asked knowing neither of us knew anyone. You know anyone that hunts? Now I wished Id put up with Paul Jasons hunt-en stories. Whatre we gonna do? Those guys are gonna fuckin come after me! I said getting angrier by the second at how stupid I was for getting involved in it. I dont fucking know, was all he had. With all our ideas shot down on level of difficulty or risk or high improbability or sheer stupidity, we decided to go see the Machete Twins. It took all our weed and the grand I had stashed away, but they promised protection.

Dont worry, well take care of that puto, one of them said putting my hard earned money into his pocket. Youre not gonna kill him are you? Fer asked trying not to pry too much. Yeah, we dont want him dead. We just dont want us dead. I added. Dont worry holmes, he said patting me on the back, which instead of feeling like an everythings gonna be ok pat felt more like a this is gonna hurt. I didnt sleep for days expecting an LA style gang drive by whenever a car turned on my block. No cars came and I never heard anything about it again. Fer and I went back to our bad connections and nights of waiting around for someone else to come through. Just like the weed was gone, so were the invites, the friends, the fun. I was always just a few minutes too late to the hotbox sessions and my girlfriend needed time to think. I went back to Monday mornings, not having any insight as to the shortcomings of the upper echelon of high school, and I was ok with that. It meant Id gotten outnot a tracejust like Id planned all along.