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 pill-popping mom, your clueless dad, your geeky brother…even that crabby old guy who runs the newspaper stand, and the homeless guy 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.
"Dexter, it's already 70 degrees outside—you'll burn up!" Mom shouted from the kitchen. Dexter, 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 Dee Dee 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 Dexter, Dee Dee 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….
Dexter'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. Lazinsky, called him up to the front. Dee Dee exited the classroom with the other students, but paused outside the door, only a little worried; Dexter got in trouble with the teachers all the time nowadays.
When Dexter 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 Dexter wanted to do was keep from flipping out.
"Are you alright, Mr. Parker?"
"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, Dexter?"
He made the mistake of looking up into Mr. Lazinsky's eyes, which were both serious and troubled. Dexter gave a slight nod and forced out a, "Yeah," before he dropped his gaze, then hurried out of the room.
"Dexter—" Dee Dee started when her brother exited the classroom. "Not now Dee Dee," Dexter replied shortly, starting to try to push past him. Suddenly Mandark, sporting a grin and a second-hand leather jacket, slid a thin arm around Dexter shoulder—and between him and Dee Dee. When he caught sight of Dexter's face, he grimaced. "You look bad, my man. Don't worry—I got the cure." And with that, Dee Dee watched Mandark lead a very relieved Dexter away.
As Dexter 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. "Dexter," she nearly gasped, out of breath, "Dexter, I was wondering…since it's a Friday night and all…well, I know they're not your absolute favorite band, but the Jamones are playing down at the Reacon tonight…"
"Look, I'm sorry Lee; I can't," Dexter told her, without even looking up, before he opened the door and climbed in. Lee Lee struggled to hide her disappointment, even as Dexter told her, only semi-apologetically, "I'll call you this weekend." Dee Dee sat in shock for a minute, but when she realized Dexter wasn't going to tell the girl anything else, she started home.
Dee Dee came downstairs, and couldn't stop a frown; Dexter was sprawled across the entire couch, flipping channels on the TV, an untouched bowl of cheetos on the coffee table in front of him. her brother, the party animal, home on a Friday night? When he'd turned down that girl for a third weekend in a row, Dee Dee had figured he'd had something crazy already planned, so this was a bit worrisome. Not to mention annoying; she'd wanted to watch Pony Puff Princess.
"Hey," she tried.
"Hey."
"So, uh…what're you doing home?"
"Huh?"
"I mean, why aren't you…you know, out?"
Dexter grunted, and Dee Dee came to sit on the armrest of couch on the side Dexter's head was on.
"So you turned Lee Lee 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…" Dee Dee hesitated, not sure how to point out that her brother was being a dick without actually calling him one. "That's not really very…nice."
This time, Dexter tilted his head back to look at her with the 'you're a loser' look that Dee Dee 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."
Dee Dee nodded, and sat on the edge of couch a bit longer, before getting up and heading for her room. But she couldn't get it out of her head—it wasn't Dexter's answer that was bothering her, but the way his eyes had looked when he'd said it.
Dee Dee had really started to worry. Not full-blown panic or anything—but she knew that Mom was picking up on something too, when she asked Dee Dee, "Is everything alright with you and Dexter?" Dee Dee has given her an honest answer; "I think so." But with each day, she was a little less sure. Dexter had broken it off with Lee Lee, which wasn't so unusual, but as far as Dee Dee 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 Dee Dee and he often came home long after everyone was asleep.
Naturally, Dee Dee had assumed that Mom would bring it up with her—but she hadn't. In fact, it seemed that she was just as happy not knowing what was going on, as long as Dexter 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; Dee Dee found she had a hard time carrying on a conversation with her on several occasions. But when he'd asked Dad, he'd told her not to worry about it; she was going through a bit of a rough time, but he had it all taken care of.
Dee Dee glanced at the clock—11:37 and sighed, before climbing the stairs to her room, she glanced over at the empty bed in her brother's room.
Dad heard the front door creak open, and then the soft foot-steps of his son sneaking in. He flipped the lamp on, and Dexter froze, looking like a deer in the headlights.
"Well. You're home early," Dad commented, standing to move towards Dexter, who wasn't sure how to respond, and just stood there.
"Look, Dexter—" the boy had started moving again, carefully unlacing his shoes as if he couldn't hear Dad— "You can't keep doing this, It's not fair to your mother, or me. We worry—" Dexter hung his jacket on the banister— "about you. So," Dad 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." Dexter, selective-hearing in tow, walked right by him and up the steps, causing Dad 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 Dexter's room click shut.
Dee Dee tried to interest herself in the TV; it was six o'clock and Dexter hadn't been home for over twenty-four hours. Dad would be home any minute, and then Dee Dee was sure, they'd be calling the police. If Mom hadn't been a zombie at this point, Dee Dee was sure that would have happened long before. Suddenly, the door creaked open, and Dee Dee looked up—then felt her temper flare when he saw who it was. Dexter Parker, and a pretty messed up as well.
"Mom! Dexter's home!"
Mom 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 Dexter, don't ever do that to me again," and Dee Dee 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." Dexter offered her a weak smile, and stumbled away up the steps towards his room.
Mom retreated to the kitchen to nurse a cup of coffee.
Dee Dee couldn't take it anymore—she could feel the anger rising in her like she'd never felt before.She stormed up the steps and down the hall, grabbed the handle and threw the door open to Dexter's room and—stopped short in disbelief.
Dexter 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.
"Dexter…"
The boy didn't even look up, just kept trying to shoot up, as he heaved out, "I c-can't do it, Dee Dee. I can't and I-I—" he wiped at his nose with his arm, "I tried but I…"
Dee Dee had moved to his side, and sat on the bed next to him, resting a hand on her brother's back. "Shhh, brother. It's ok. I'm here."
But Dexter cut in with another sob—"I messed up s—so badly and—I hate—hate—"
Dee Dee rubbed a circle on Dexter's back as she 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 Dexter's eyes and Dee Dee fought back her own, before she felt something warm and looked down; Dexter's arm had begun to bleed. She reached for the needle and Dexter's expression grew frightened. "Dee Dee—I need it—I need this—don't—" But Dee Dee calmed him with more shushing, before she gently took the needle away, then stretched out Dexter's arm further, before easily sliding the needle into a vein. "Dexter," she 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?"
Dexter managed a slight nod, before his eyes slipped closed and he let the heroin flood his system.