Well, I know how to do it. It's easy really—just like magic. Magic dust. All you have to do is keep a little in your pocket with you, and when the going gets rough, puff a little down, and PRESTO! You're amazing, you're incredible. Everyone loves you—your huge-eyed mom, your buff pirate shirt-wearing dad, your dorky brother…even that guy that looks like Che who runs the magazine stand, and the homeless guy that wears an ushanka and who's pants are always pissed when you pass him in the morning. The magic just makes you invincible.
Yeah, that's the great thing about heroin.
"Moondoggie, it's already 70 degrees outside—you'll burn up!" Ray shouted from the kitchen. Moondoggie, in a jeans and a plain black, long-sleeve shirt grimaced, and shot back, "I'll be fine mom," as he let the front door bang shut behind him. Parents. Always trying to give advice when he didn't need it.
Between the walk from his house to the car (where Renton was waiting), the sweat started to bead on his forehead. He wiped crossly at it with a sleeve, and nearly jogged the rest of the way across the lawn. As soon as the car door was slammed shut behind Moondoggie, Renton hit the gas—that boy wouldn't have speeded if his life depended on it, but there was no way he was going to be late for school because of his lousy brother again.
Man oh man when is this class gonna end….
Moondoggie's eyes jumped to the clock again, where the time was precisely ten seconds later than it had been the last time he'd looked. It was hard enough to focus on anything, let alone the stupid teacher up front gabbing away. The room felt tight, stuffy, overcrowded, and it was getting harder and harder to breathe—as if each time he took a breath, the air around him crushed in his chest a little more. He squeezed his eyes shut, and jammed his forehead against his the heel of his hand, trying to calm down before he ended up hyperventilating. It sort of worked, especially if he let his lips mumble silently while he did it.
When the bell rang, all he wanted to do was bolt straight out of the classroom. Instead, the teacher, Mr. Jurgens, called him up to the front. Renton exited the classroom with the other students, but paused outside the door, only a little worried; Moondoggie got in trouble with the teachers all the time.
When Moondoggie reached the teacher's desk, he braced his hands apart on his side of it, and leaned over. It looked like typical confident, cool-boy behavior, but all Moondoggie wanted to do was keep from flipping out.
"Are you alright, Mr. Emerson?"
"Fine," he managed to get out, feeling his insides start to clam up a little at the question instead of the usual reprimand.
"Are you sure, Moondoggie?"
He made the mistake of looking up into Mr. Jurgen's eyes, which were both serious and troubled. Moondoggie gave a slight nod and forced out a, "Yeah," before he dropped his gaze, then hurried out of the room.
"Moondoggie—" Renton started when his brother exited the classroom. "Not now Renton," Moondoggie replied shortly, starting to try to push past him. Suddenly Dominic, sporting a grin and a second-hand leather jacket, slid a thin arm around Moondoggie shoulder—and between him and Renton. When he caught sight of Moondoggie's face, he grimaced. "You look bad, my man. Don't worry—I got the cure." And with that, Renton watched Dominic lead a very relieved Moondoggie away.
As Moondoggie was leaning foreword to open the car on the passenger's side of the car, a girl came running across the front lawn of the school, catching his elbow in a dainty hand. "Moondoggie!" she nearly gasped, out of breath, "Moondoggie, I was wondering…since it's a Friday night and all…well, I know they're not your absolute favorite band, but the Skyfish are playing down at the Gekko tonight…"
Renton smiled—Gidget, Moondoggie's girlfriend of two weeks, was by far the nicest of the ones Renton had had the "privilege" of meeting in a while, and while she didn't know it, Moondoggie loved the Skyfish.
"Look, I'm sorry Gidget; I can't," Moondoggie told her, without even looking up, before he opened the door and climbed in. Gidget struggled to hide her disappointment, even as Moondoggie told her, only semi-apologetically, "I'll call you this weekend." Renton sat in shock for a minute, but when he realized Moondoggie wasn't going to tell the girl anything else, he started home.
Renton came downstairs, and couldn't stop a frown; Moondoggie was sprawled across the entire couch, flipping channels on the TV, an untouched bowl of cheetos on the coffee table in front of him. His brother, the party animal, home on a Friday night? When he'd turned down that girl for a third weekend in a row, Renton had figured he'd had something crazy already planned, so this was a bit worrisome. Not to mention annoying; he'd wanted to watch Oprah.
"Hey," he tried.
"Hey."
"So, uh…what're you doing home?"
"Huh?"
"I mean, why aren't you…you know, out?"
Moondoggie grunted, and Renton came to sit on the armrest of couch on the side Moondoggie's head was on.
"So you turned Gidget down yet again to stay at home and watch television?"
"Yeah, it looks like it." There was an unpleasantly sarcastic edge on his voice when he said it.
"You know…" Renton hesitated, not sure how to point out that his brother was being a dick without actually calling him one. "That's not really very…nice."
This time, Moondoggie tilted his head back to look at him with the 'you're a loser' look that Renton hated so much, and shrugged his shoulder's a bit, before turning back to the TV screen. "I just didn't feel like going to the movies with her."
Renton nodded, and sat on the edge of couch a bit longer, before getting up and heading for his room. But he couldn't get it out of his head—it wasn't Moondoggie's answer that was bothering him, but the way his eyes had looked when he'd said it.
Renton had really started to worry. Not full-blown panic or anything—but he knew that Ray was picking up on something too, when she asked Renton, "Is everything alright with you and Moondoggie?" Renton has given her an honest answer; "I think so." But with each day, he was a little less sure. Moondoggie had broken it off with Gidget, which wasn't so unusual, but as far as Renton knew he hadn't even hooked up with anyone since—at least, not anyone that anybody knew about. He showed up less and less often to get rides home from Renton and he often came home long after everyone was asleep.
Naturally, Renton had assumed that Ray would bring it up with him—but she hadn't. In fact, it seemed that she was just as happy not knowing what was going on, as long as Moondoggie was in the door by the time she was awake. She hadn't really seemed herself lately, either—she was always tired, and seemed out of it; Renton found he had a hard time carrying on a conversation with her on several occasions. But when he'd asked his dad, he'd told him not to worry about it; she was going through a bit of a rough time, but he had it all taken care of.
Renton glanced at the clock—12:46 and sighed, before climbing the stairs to his room, where he couldn't stop from glancing over at the other empty bed.
Charles heard the front door creak open, and then the soft foot-steps of his step-son sneaking in. He flipped the lamp on, and Moondoggie froze, looking like a deer in the headlights.
"Well. You're home early," Charles commented, standing to move towards Moondoggie, who wasn't sure how to respond, and just stood there.
"Look, Moondoggie—" the boy had started moving again, carefully unlacing his shoes as if he couldn't hear Charles— "You can't keep doing this, It's not fair to your mother, or me. We worry—" Moondoggie hung his jacket on the banister— "about you. So," Charles drew himself up; he wasn't used to trying to be the law enforcement figure of the house, but since nobody else seemed up to it… "You need to start being home at seven on school nights, and ten on the weekends—no more nights out." Moondoggie, selective-hearing in tow, walked right by him and up the steps, causing Charles to falter on what he was about to say next. He stood still at the bottom of the steps until he heard the door to Moondoggie's room click shut.
Renton tried to interest himself in the TV; it was six o'clock and Moondoggie hadn't been home for over twenty-four hours. Charles would be home any minute, and then Renton was sure, they'd be calling the police. If Ray hadn't been a zombie at this point, Renton was sure that would have happened long before. Suddenly, the door creaked open, and Renton looked up—then felt his temper flare when he saw who it was. Moondoggie, and a pretty messed up one as well.
"Mom! Doggie's home!"
Ray rushed in from the other room and wrapped her son up in a hug, saying over and over again things like, "Honey I was so worried," and "I love you so much Moondoggie, don't ever do that to me again," and Renton tensed, waiting for the explosion—but it never came. Instead, she said softly, "You look pretty bad. Why don't you go up to your room, and get some sleep." Moondoggie offered her a weak smile, and stumbled away up the steps towards his room.
Ray retreated to the kitchen to nurse a cup of coffee.
Renton couldn't take it anymore—he could feel the anger rising in him like he'd never felt before. He stormed up the steps and down the hall, grabbed the handle and threw the door open to the room he and Moondoggie shared and—stopped short in disbelief.
Moondoggie was on his bed, one sleeve rolled up to his shoulder, a badly tied tourniquet tied around that bicep. One hand steadied the other at the elbow, and the blue veins of his arm bulged sickeningly. He was trying to get the needle to stick but his sides were shaking as he alternated between dry heaving and silent sobs, and he kept missing. Bruised, spidery tract marks wound down his arms. The spit and snot was dribbling down his chin.
"Doggie…"
The boy didn't even look up, just kept trying to shoot up, as he heaved out, "I c-can't do it, Renton. I can't and I-I—" he wiped at his nose with his arm, "I tried but I…"
Renton had moved to his side, and sat on the bed next to him, resting a hand on his brother's back. "Shhh, Brother. It's ok. I'm here."
But Moondoggie cut in with another sob—"I mess up so much—so badly and—I hate—hate—"
Renton rubbed a circle on Moondoggie's back as he replied soothingly, "No, Brother. I love you. We all love you, no matter what you do. We're gonna help you."
More tears poured from Moondoggie's eyes and Renton fought back his own, before he felt something warm and looked down; Moondoggie's arm had begun to bleed. He reached for the needle and Moondoggie's expression grew frightened. "Renton—I need it—I need this—don't—" But Renton calmed him with more shushing, before he gently took the needle away, then stretched out Moondoggie's arm further, before easily sliding the needle into a vein. "Doggie," he said quietly, starting to push the plunger down, "you can have it. But you have to promise that after…after this, we'll talk to mom and dad. Together. And we'll get you help, ok?"
Moondoggie managed a slight nod, before his eyes slipped closed and he let the heroin flood his system.