Holding hands with John

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It was my first time buying weed and I’d gotten it through trails of networking. I asked a good friend, who asked another good friend (who I was just too scared to ask) and he got it from someone in the boys’ bathroom. I remember me and “John” crossing the street together while I grabbed the weed from his hand, as if we were going to hold hands.

Although it was only half a cig and was destroyed in my book bag, I had drugs on me. The school I went to wasn’t the safest so I could’ve been caught with a dime bag, a crappy cigarette and an artist portfolio in my backpack.