Crank Series: Crank Part 45

Jake was enthralled by the whole idea of my temporary incarceration, and the reasons behind it.

He wouldn't shut up, just kept asking inane questions.

As for me, I was less than contrite.

Picking up trash wasn't so bad. There were ways around GUFN.

And I now had a direct in with a monster manufacturer.

Back in My Room

My life closed in around me. I was no longer my own.

Mom had poured through all my stuff, scoured my journal, letters, and address book.

She did find a bit of evidence-a crumpled Marlboro wrapper and a new lighter. Hey, it made her day to discover I was a hard-core tobacco user. More lectures, more useless promises on my end. She went off to work on her book.

A sudden wave of exhaustion swallowed me. I'd walked through the last few days in a total haze. My system had finally purged itself of "go fast." It was time to shut down. I laid down and surrendered myself to the comfort of dreams.

Resolutions

I awoke the next morning, semirefreshed.

As I got myself ready for school, I made the following resolutions: One week to the end of the quarter, grades slipping into gutter, I would ask for some extra credit work.

I would help out more around the house, show my parents I was grateful for the many things they'd given me.

I would write to my Grandma once a week, even if she might not be sure who the letters were from.

I would reconnect with old friends. And my dad.

I would finish up the many projects I'd started while under the influence-a macrame wall hanging, a portrait of John Lennon, a song I'd written about my walk with the monster.

I would never shoot up again. I would smoke less, toot less, keep my bad habits manageable. (Notice I didn't say quit them.) I would also avoid sipping other people's blood.

I would go to Planned Parenthood and get on the pill. Making love with Chase was awesome, and we didn't need a baby spoiling that.

The problem with resolutions is they're only as solid as the person making them.

Other Problems

Mess with a teacher, even one that has always liked you in the past, you're liable to get screwed.

Ditch their cla.s.ses, they might give you makeup work, but they don't have to. I was four out of seven toward screwed.

I tried hooking up with Sarah. She was nice but had moved on to more reliable friends. Straight friends.

Trent knew exactly what was what with his sister, and so with me. The Avenue most definitely wasn't his scene.

On the home front, I couldn't buy Scott's trust by washing windows or vacuuming. I had zero idea how to turn it around.

Mom, she wanted her little girl back. I couldn't go that far.

She wavered between forgiving, stern, spiteful, and loving.

I did write Grandma a couple of times, lively, newsy letters.

She never replied, but I didn't really expect her to.

Hopefully, I brightened a few of her last days. She would pa.s.s away in January, cold and gray as a San Francisco winter.

When I returned to the macrame, my fingers struggled over the knots. I sc.r.a.pped that project, but did finish John Lennon.

As for the song, I had lost the melody and my will to find it. And the lyrics brought me back to the fold of the monster.

Crank, You See

isn't any ordinary monster. It's like a giant octopus, weaving its tentacles not just around you, but through you, squeezing not hard enough to kill you, but enough to keep you from reeling until you try to get away. Try, and you hunger for its grasping clutch, the way its tendrils prop you up, your need intensifying exponentially every minute you refuse to admit its being.

By Wednesday

last period, take me to the bank. (I had a D in P.E.; what could one more ditch hurt?)

The Good ...

Seeing Chase's truck pull into the far parking lot. Hearing, It's been a long four days.

Kissing him, knowing better things lay in store, right up the road.

I've missed you so much.

Detouring to a secluded spot. Gentle lovemaking, set to romantic sonnets.

It's never been like this for me before.

Riding into town, head on his shoulder, listening to words of love.

My heart will always belong to you.

He was the second person to tell me that. The first, well, he had his Giselle.

... The Bad ...

Noticing the letter lying open on the pa.s.senger-side floor.

I was going to tell you ...

Chase had been accepted by USC- the University of Southern California.

They have an awesome film school ...

Early graduation, a full scholarship, for him, a dream come true.

I'll leave after Christmas break.

For me, a dream or three, annihilated.

I didn't know what to say.

Please don't cry. It's not so far away.

It might as well be clear across the globe.

Out of sight, out of my mind.

... And the Ugly

I was still upset when we pulled up to the bank.

I was a ton more upset when the teller informed me that Mom had restricted my access to my own account.

Okay, it had dwindled considerably.

But I had to have cash the next day.

You should not stand a guy like Roberto up.

And I was in serious want of a fabulous bender.

I'm not sure which one of the two made me more panicky.

I asked Chase if I could borrow some money.

But when I told him why, he told me I was nuts and took me home.