They were bickering again. A month and a half after the night I'd flipped out, and the dull murmur of Spinner and Emma verbally picking at one another only grew more and more persistent. Tension hung heavy in the air these days. Amy wasn't too keen on talking to me since I'd gone after her with a knife, so I had to start finding my own ways to get meth. It couldn't have happened at a worse time; everyone was dry. The hoops and the phone calls and the over-charging I had to go through were getting tedious. It seemed like we spent more time trying to hunt down ice than actually doing ice, and when we did find some, it wasn't enough. It was never enough. We were running on fumes.

Friday nights at the ravine and playing third wheel to Emma and Spinner suddenly became the last thing I wanted to do. I had only just begun to embrace this new version of myself, Toby the friend, Toby the party guy, Toby the Emma's-almost, and I was already sick of it. I hated faking my way through conversation, laughing at jokes that weren't funny, listening and waiting for the right moment to finally slide in the issue of drugs. Where are the drugs; that's all I need to know. That's all I came here for.

Tired of the games, tired of the empty faces, tired of Spinner and Emma's bull shit, I started to retreat further and further into my own twisted head. I would spend hours and hours holed up in my room, strung out on meth. Standing by the window, peering through the blinds, so certain in my state of insane paranoia that someone was out there. Someone was watching.

I sketched dragons and stacked sugar cubes. I stayed up all night on my computer. I mumbled to myself and gnawed on lighters. I constantly checked the walls for hidden cameras and bugs. I was losing it.

My only contact with the outside world was to obtain drugs, and I started getting good at it. So good, in fact, that Spinner and Emma wouldn't leave me alone. They were always kissing my ass, calling me at all hours of the night, desperate for me to find them drugs.

Words can't describe the rush of joy I felt at having Emma need me. Seeing her name on my caller ID at three in the morning. I would take Emma all the way to rock bottom, if that's what she wanted.

And it was. That's why she and Spinner were in my room, a place few people besides JT and my immediate family members had been. They were sitting on the bed together while we waited for Tall Shorty to call me back. We waited and waited. The waiting made us anxious. The anxiousness made Spinner and Emma irritable. And so they were bickering. Again.

A harsh knock on the door finally silenced them, and only a second later, Ashley popped in her head.

"Toby, have you been in my room?" she asked in her typical tone of perpetual exasperation. Poor fucking Ashley. Always the victim.

I turned from where I sat at my computer, eyes nearly tearing up from the burning glow of the screen. I'd achieved my fifth high score this week. Amazing what you could do when you never slept.

"No," I answered.

She huffed and folded her arms, leaning against the doorframe and peering into my room suspiciously. Emma and Spinner watched her carefully, though she tried to pretend like they weren't there.

"I had twenty dollars on my desk and I can't find it."

I rolled my eyes at her and returned my attention to my computer game. "You act like we're still thirteen or something, Ash. What would I be doing in your room?"

I had played these passive aggressive bull shit games with Ashley before. If she wanted to find out if I took her money, she was going to have to come out and call me a thief to my face. Call me a thief right in front of my friends, who were watching, waiting. She would have to challenge an entire room full of accomplished liars and hungry iceheads. Team Get Fucked Up was a force to be reckoned with.

At last, Ashley sighed in defeat. "Well… if you see a stray twenty lying around, it's mine." She shut the door loudly behind her.

Spinner laughed after she had left. "If I find a stray twenty lying around, I'm getting high," he joked. Only it wasn't a joke. It wasn't funny at all. It was the truth. It was our lives.

Besides, there was no stray money. That money was long gone, sitting in some Lakehurst dealer's pocket.

My phone rang at long last. The sound of all three of us collectively inhaling in anticipation was like the hiss of a firecracker fuse, ready to explode. Emma and Spinner watched, holding their breaths, while I spoke to Tall Shorty on the other end of the line.

"Oh?" I responded to Tall Shorty as he explained to me that his guy hadn't come through. I knew Emma and Spinner could hear the disappointment in my voice. They exhaled, crestfallen. No fireworks today. "Right. Yeah, I know how it goes. Well just give me a call if you hear anything. Thanks man."

I hung up the phone and glanced at the couple on my bed. Emma's eyes looked exhausted; I almost thought she would start crying. Spinner punched a pillow.

"Shit's fucked up, man," Spinner said angrily. "He makes us wait for three hours and then he doesn't even have shit."

I could only shrug. The drug world was a perpetual roller coaster. Ups and downs. Haves and have-nots. Highs and lows. Unpredictable and all-consuming.

Emma ran her thin fingers through her hair. "Let's just go to the ravine and hang out," she suggested. Her voice was frail. "Maybe we'll run into someone there who can help us out."

Spinner and I nodded in agreement. Back to the fucking ravine. The source of all evil. The source of all our happiness. Happiness, or something like it.

At the ravine, we got drunk. Emma got loud and pathetic, as she often did when she was drunk, and started shamelessly harassing people for drugs. I sat in an orange plastic lawn chair, staring at the fire, trying not to look at her. I downed the cola and cheap whiskey in my cup, trying not to hear her voice. I hated listening to her desperation. The want in her voice was unnerving. It forced me to face a severe truth.

We had all come to love drugs as much as I had once loved Emma. More than I loved Emma. We clung desperately to the hope of a high the same way I clung to her for years, hoping for even the slightest taste of her happiness.

"Well howdy, crew," called the familiar cackle of Amy. She pranced up to the three of us, grinning smugly. "Long time no see. You all look like shit."

Spinner rolled his eyes. "Thanks, Amy. Always such a sweetheart."

Emma examined Amy carefully. "Are you high right now?" she asked.

Amy shrugged, smiling. "As a matter of fact…"

Our attention was immediately focused on only Amy. Like a pack of hungry wolves, we crept closer to her. "How did you manage to score anything?" I asked her. "This fucking drought has been brutal."

Amy brought the rim of her drink to her coy lips, eyeing all of us with amusement. Amused by our shamelessness. "When the going gets tough, Tobes, the tough suck dick."

Emma furled her brow. "What are you talking about?"

"I know a guy," said Amy, placing her hand on Emma's shoulder. "He's not selling right now, but he'll hook you up if you hook him up, you know?"

"You want Emma to go down on some guy for ice?" I barked incredulously. "Fuck that, that's crazy."

I looked at Spinner and Emma, expecting to see a similar look of disgust on their faces. But they only looked at each other, contemplating. I couldn't believe it. I wanted to punch Spinner in the face. He was willing to let his girlfriend degrade herself just so he could get high?

"Emma, come on," I prodded. "You can't actually be thinking about doing that."

Emma only shrugged her fragile shoulders, looking at me with empty eyes. "I've given head for less," she said softly, trying to smile about it. Trying to turn it into a joke. But it wasn't a joke. This was anything but funny. This was our lives.

Spinner rubbed his hand on Emma's back comfortingly. Supportively. Go ahead, babe. Put some weirdo's dick in your mouth so we can get high again. It was like their whole relationship was based on drugs. I found myself growing angrier.

"Come on, blondie," Amy said slyly. "I'll introduce you."

"NO!" I yelled. Everyone looked at me, surprised. "Fuck this. This is it. I'm fucking over it. I'm not going to watch this."

I threw my drink into the fire, watching the flames leap into the night sky with the sudden burst of alcohol, and started walking away.