Friday morning was very informative. I switched out of a pointless freshman science class and into ceramics, and I managed to sit next to Morris. Morris has been attending my high school for a couple of years, but he is still a freshman. Everyone on campus knows they can by bud from him even if they choose not to. I see him at least once a month outside of school because he is always working somewhere new. My favorite thing about him is that although being a functioning burnout, he dresses very well. In my new ceramics class, I was able to ask him about bud.

“Hey Morris, I seek some knowledge.”

“Oh? Ask and you shall receive.” He looked at me very deeply and seemed very interested.

“How can I get the best high smoking bud?”

“Smoking weed? Blowing trees? Don’t tell me you’ve come to the dark side Serena?” He weirdly sounded like a caring older brother, and I will never know how he knows my name.

“I’m about to join, Sunday. I just wanna be ready.” I tried to cover the sound of pathetic that oozed from me.

“Smoking on the Sabbath? So hardcore already.” He smiled a creepily wide smile, “You have to smoke wax or from a vape for the best high, but you are a newbie noob newb and anything will work.” Somehow I don’t think he was complimenting me.

“What if I don’t get high the first time?” I regretted speaking it as soon as I had.

“The first time is the easiest high. Try smoking from a bong and not coughing.” He laughed a wicked laugh and I no longer wished to talk to him.

“We are, and I’ll try not to.” The desire to sit somewhere else began to develop. I decided to raise my hand.

“Before you go I want you to know that if the time ever came, I would love to smoke you out and even shotgun you.”

“Maybe one day.” I wasn’t sure if he was threatening me, but I still felt scared. The teacher acknowledged my now numb arm and she granted me permission to leave the class to go to the bathroom.

As far as school goes I take all my core classes very seriously, but I just never care for electives. In art I am naturally gifted and pass without effort. Last year in Spanish, I scraped by with a C, even though I practically speak Spanish. Now in ceramics, I feel no guilt spending the entire class period walking around texting anyone that will reply. My favorite part of my poor LAUSD high school is that they can’t even afford to keep track of who is roaming the halls. Recurring class periods like these are why I believe hall monitors are extinct or were possibly a myth.