Homeless by Ms. Michel Moore Page B

fake apologies. As far as he was concerned, she could keep her little con game and run it on one of those naïve fools she was talking about like dogs on the phone earlier. After she signed his paper, he was out the door praying he’d beat any of the night staff arriving early.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
    â€œYou done whining for having to do some time for ya’ crime?” Kevin told a bad joke at Lonnie’s expense. Slurring and giggling like a girl, it was easy to tell the privileged white boy was high as a kite, as usual. His friend’s misfortune hadn’t slowed down his habit or his partying in the slightest bit.
    â€œYeah, I guess,” Lonnie responded after his first day of volunteer work, not really in the mood for his white friend’s personality. “It wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be, real talk,” he said honestly, but not really wanting to talk about his unfortunate circumstances.
    Loner Lonnie was more consumed and interested in the beer can he was trying to find the bottom of. He was growing nauseated, but was trying to fight against it. Lonnie wasn’t sick with the stomach bug, just going through withdrawals. His body had gotten used to the daily regimen of pills, so not having them made him ill. The unsettled adolescent wished he had the means to run away or at least money to make all his problems vanish.
    â€œGood, that shit’ll be over and you can be back over here partyin’ and bullshittin’ with the crew in no time.” His words managed to lift Lonnie’s spirits. “But I don’t know about moving in. My homeboy needed somewhere to crash and you were gone so—”
    â€œWhat the fuck, man? I know you ain’t call me to run me in the ground even more,” Lonnie snapped, hearing another person was getting off scraps just as he was heading toward getting back on them.
    â€œAw, man, before you get back on that whining shit, let me hip you to what a bitch I stuck my dick in put me onto today. It’ll help you with your troubles.”
    Kevin could never be of any assistance with homework, studying, or any positive stuff like that. His specialty was pills, booze, partying, and bitches. Lonnie wondered what Kevin could help him with that he could indulge in without getting in trouble with the judge.
    â€œI got these pills that make them Zannys seem like Flintstone vitamins,” Kevin slurred, speaking the truth because he was as high as a kite. “These motherfuckers be having me not caring ’bout shit. They so strong that you only need to pop half, but you know I like to get wild.”
    â€œKev, man, damn. You forget I gotta drop or something?” Irritated, Lonnie wanted to get off the phone and find some solace. Because today hadn’t been so bad, he wanted to get some rest and prepare for day two of fulfilling his sentence. Lonnie was dog-tired but fighting sleep, not wanting a repeat of last night to see his mother in another nightmare.
    â€œNaw, I ain’t forgot. Shorty, who I’m sticking my dick in, works at a clinic, be selling scripts, and charging a few extra bucks if you need her to make you up a file.” Kevin was extra excited since his favorite pastime and all-the-time activity was to pop pills. What he was telling Lonnie was that he’d found a semilegal way to do drugs. He’d also told Lonnie he had a pharmacy in his backpack.
    â€œSay, word? That shit sound too fuckin’ good to be true. I been over here spazzing out trying to see if I should tiptoe on the tightrope and pop this X-pill for one last high, and yo’ ass over their plugging up the plug.” Lonnie was live, right along with Kevin. So much so that he agreed to take a few of them off his hands—just to try.
    He didn’t have the money to pay the girl for the pills or the file he’d need, but he could try the testers Kevin was offering him. Instead of taking the X-pill, he’d experiment