Chapter One-Hundred and Twenty-Two

Clarissa handed John a bag full of his favorite foods for lunch, kissing his head as he pulled on his jacket. "Don't be a pain for Mr. Anderson today." She looked into his eyes, making sure he got the message. "And remember to get home before that storm hits. I don't want you catching cold in the rain." She touched his cheek, remembering the last time he'd gotten cold enough that his shivering sent physical pains through his body. "If you need someone to give you a ride ask. But don't risk getting sick."

John smirked, wrapping her in a hug that he'd seen Andy and Brian use with their mothers a million times, the hug that only a son could give. "I'll be fine." He smirked, giving Claire a peck on the lips as he passed her in her half-asleep zombie mode. "Love you." He whispered, rubbing his fingers over her cheeks.

She hummed her reply, kissing his fingers as he touched her lips. "Don't tear up anymore books." She yawned, noticing that his hands were covered with his leather gloves. "I love you."

John chuckled, closing the door behind him as he listened to the chaos that always echoed in the house fade to silence as he walked. He took a deep breath, the sharp tang of the sea filling his nose. He could smell the storm that was brewing out at sea, able to tell that it would be a big one. He let the wind ruffle his growing hair, feeling as free as he had since he'd been drugged. He didn't have anyone tailing him for once, not even Amelia or Claire. He was all on his own. A lone-wolf once again. He'd spent months trying to get away from them, just to get the high of freedom. But every time he'd gotten close, he would glance back, and see that they were there.

He'd hated it. As a kid and a young teen, he'd always been the one keeping an eye on everyone else, but now… now he was the one being watched and guarded at all times.

He listened to the sounds of the new neighborhood, thinking of how odd it was to not hear screams and gunshots, but to hear birds and children playing in their yards.

John slipped into a chair in the library of the school, placing a notebook on the table in front of him. He sighed, leaning his head on the back of the chair, as he listened to the sounds of the room. He could hear Toby's aggravated breathing, the way the air moved around the shelves, he could hear the lights buzzing with electricity high overhead.

"You fucking junky." Toby growled, standing from his seat and pulling John's chair from under him.

John gave a short gasp of pain as his tailbone collided with the hard floor. "Shit." He laid on his side for a second, letting his body recover from the shock to his system before he stood and tried to make himself comfortable again. "I know you put the dope in my locker dipshit." He rolled his eyes, rubbing his lower back as the muscles tried to tighten and cause him more pain. "I know that smell, and I could smell it on you."

Toby blanched, his California tan paling at the thought of John knowing what he did. "You can't prove shit." He snapped, jumping when John lifted his letterman from the back of the chair he'd been in, and brought it to his nose.

John shook his head, his lungs aching for that smoke. "Listen man, if you're gonna smoke this shit, learn to do your own laundry, and save a little cash up for a batch of the good shit." He tossed the jacket to him. "If it smells that strong, it wasn't grown right and it probably has pesticides and other shit on it. But, if it smells like hay, it's the good stuff." He pulled a joint from the pocket, expertly opening it with his fingernails to show the brown cannabis. "See, this shit, is from a half-assed grower. It's been fucked up."

Toby looked at the kid, seeing the fight going on inside of his head. "I got that in the hood. Isn't that where you go to get the good stuff?"

John shook his head, remembering the trips he'd taken to the rich parts of town just to get good drugs. "You just think that because dealers are easy to find. Believe me, good end of town is where to get it. That's where the big bucks are." He clenched his jaw, pulling out a small bag of bright green weed. "I got this on the way here, I spent forty bucks on this much." He placed it on the table. "It's not even enough for a full joint. A full joint is another gram."

Toby furrowed his brow, seeing for the first time what this kid fought against. "Why did you buy it if it's not enough for a joint?" He asked, not understanding why he'd spend the cash just to get a little bit.

John breathed a laugh, pulling a pinch from the little bag. "To prove to myself that I can stay sober." He held the pot just beyond his lips, far enough to smell it but not taste it or get a high. "If I can have this on me and not chew it, I can recover."

Toby nodded, seeing a shadow of want behind John's eyes, as he fought against his craving. "You really do wanna get clean, huh?"

John chuckled, placing the weed back in the plastic bag. "I've never wanted anything more in my life."