Basketcase

Part One

Chapter One

The night before I attempted to take my life, I invited three of my closest friends over, Samuel, Ben, and Navid. All of them, with the exception of Navid, were young, naive and innocent kids who were unknown to the lovely world of drugs. We had had Lacrosse practice that day, something which even on a good day is a terrible ritual. That day was particularly atrocious, as we spent the entire practice running hills. You see, I attend a small private school which can barely field a team. This was a problem, as many players were forced to play entire games, something which I do not recommend. I could not understand why our coach had hope that we could turn our season around, as our team consisted of incompetent morons and egotistical failures. The sport had become an especial strain on my patience this time of the year as I was facing an ongoing bout with my ceaseless depression and could not will myself to continue with this terrible sport. That day, coach ended practice early, treating us to pizza. While we were sitting, I was in a particularly good mood. Samuel, in a fantastic turn of events, had decided to play some real music, replacing his usual rap with classic rock. While sitting me, I felt a slight tap on my shoulder, I turned, coming face to face with Samuel. Samuel was medium height, athletic kid with long, greasy blonde hair and sharp blue eyes. He wore braces and slurred when he spoke.

“Jack, I gotta ask you something.”

“What?”

“Is it true you have a medical card?” This, in fact, was true, one of the only benefits of being diagnosed with Tourette’s syndrome. I did not flaunt my card about, yet if someone asked me about it, I would not lie and tell them not to believe the hysteria.

“Yeah, I have one.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, you smoke?”

“No, but it’s not because I don’t want to, I just can’t get any.” The two of us sat in a comfortable silence for a moment. In that short time, I decided to be generous.

“Here, if you want I can give you some from my stash some time.” Samuel’s eyes lit up at this but quickly suppressed the light. I was about to inquire into Samuel’s question, but he beat me to the chase.

“Do you think it would be ok if I came over tonight?” This statement took me by surprise, as Samuel had always held an air of superiority while speaking to me. I was well aware that he wanted to hang out with me only because of my legal connection to the world of marijuana, but I did not care, I had recently overcome a particularly brutal battle with my depression and thought the company would be just marvelous for my mentality.

“Yeah, that’s fine, just check with your parents.”

At this time, I was driving so I did not feel that I had to inform my parents about my company. Not wanting to have one on one time with Samuel, I hastily invited two of my closest friends, Navid and Ben. Each exemplified each other’s differences, struggling to see a day in which they would not break out into some petty fight. I had assumed the role of mediator between the two, and I rarely hung out with them both at the same time. I must admit, I preferred Navid’s company. Navid rarely took himself seriously and could make fun out of anyone or anything. He was quite enjoyable to be with. Navid stood a foot taller than me, which always annoyed me as I believed he lacked my maturity. Black, thin hair fell short of his thick eyebrows and his darker skin complexion was dwarfed by the color of his eyes. His Persian ancestors had indeed left their mark on his character. Perhaps the most unique aspect of Navid’s character was his passion, the stock market. This caused him to be very wealthy at the ripe age of sixteen, a fact which he rarely forgot to mention. Apparently, he had smoked before, assuring me that he would not freak out like Ben and Samuel, but I did not believe him at all. Why, I cannot say. Navid, has given me reason to take what he says with a grain of salt, but he is not an outright liar. Who knows. It’s strange, those in our society who indulge in narcotics and illicit drugs seem to hold an air of superiority about themselves, always jumping to fact check those who claim to take the same narcotics as those previous mentioned. It’s ironic, as you would think people like me would jump to welcome their fellow brethren, happy to find someone they can share their glorious misadventures with. Sadly, that is not how it is. Navid’s habits could be examined by the highest esteemed anthropologists and still remain unknown. He was a tornado of horrifically cruel insults, rants, and unwanted lectures. Navid rarely surrendered a chance to make fun of me for holding a job scooping shit at the local barn, always saying something to the likes of: “What are you doing Jack? Are you gonna work with your hands for the rest of your life? C’mon let me teach you how to make some real money trading stocks. That’s where the money is really at. The two of us will make it big. Or does your socialist agenda prevent you from trying to make money?” Navid always spoke of money, telling people they were never going to make it or informing others that he was making it. One of the most infuriating aspect of his personality was his lack of a verbal filter. He spoke almost everything that came to his mind, no matter how unnecessary or evil it sounded. The man was a crooked, capitalist philosopher who believed he had figured out the meaning of life. His superficial answer to the great question was never clear to me, although he told me almost every day: “You know Jack, this is all about money. That’s all it is. People of your sorts try to tell us that there’s something more to it, but I’m telling you man, there isn’t. There is no love or hate. There’s only money. Money makes people evil and money makes people good. Money is everything, and you probably realize, individuals with the most money are simply the smartest and strongest. It’s that simple man. We’ve all been thinking too much about this. The people who have the most money are the best our society has to offer. Think about man. Just think about it.” I kept trying to tell him that although I agreed with his notion that there is no real meaning, I did not believed that money constituted virtue. To this he would always shrug his shoulders, waiting for the next time when he could inform me of his philosophy. Although he never did terrific in school, he was much smarter than our classmates, and most of them hate him for it. I always had respect for Navid. He always marched to his own beat, never being susceptible to the tunes of others. He stuck to his guns, and no matter how atrocious of a person he could be, I always remained by his side. Words of hate towards Navid spoken by others could never drive me away from him. We managed to cancel out each other’s differences. Where I was a pensive romantic, Navid was a down to earth realist. The only thing we ever seemed to entirely agree on was our taste in music and hatred for modern society. We were strange people, him being the more unique and original.

Ben was a outright different specimen. Out of all of us, he’d be the one you suspected of being a pothead. His hair managed to hang lower than mine and his neck and wrists were covered with bracelets and necklaces of all sorts. Ben was well loved throughout our school, attracting nothing but positive attention. This irked me a bit as at times, Ben could be the most obnoxious person I knew. That did not matter though, as he had a history of being good to me and in this world evil deeds are forgiven and good deeds rarely forgotten. Ben was the star of everything he did. He was the king on campus, virtually loved by all his subjects. When the two of us began lacrosse for the first time, he immediately established himself as an offensive threat. While myself and other newcomers were struggling to throw and catch, Ben had practically mastered the sport. Our coach adored that red headed God, speaking to him differently than he spoke to the rest of us. Ben also managed to sing with a melodic, high voice which was the bane of my existence. I always loathed those he felt charmed by his high-pitched voice, preferring grungier, rougher rock and roll than the rest of my classmates. My god of a friend could seemingly never fail and honestly, I could become extremely jealous of him at times. Here I was, a short, braced kid whose greatest attribute was writing. I could not manage what Ben did. I was not loved throughout the school, in fact many of the kids despised me, thinking I was an obnoxious outsider whom thought he was better than everyone else. Perhaps one of the most crucial points of why I enjoyed hanging out with Navid more than Ben was because I saw part of myself in Navid. Navid had spent most of his school years in the shadows of Ben, and he too felt a pang of jealousness whenever another person showered Ben with unending praise.

The three Crusaders piled themselves into my car, a run down gray Toyota. Many kids who attended my small private school had gotten their parents to purchase them luxurious, expensive cars. I too attempted to persuade my parents to do this for me, but they had the common sense the others lacked, and they quickly destroyed my hopes of getting a car which I would be proud to own. Refusing to let Ben or Sam put on their music, I quickly shoved a random cd into the car.

“Where’s your house so my parents can pick me up later?” Samuel’s voice chirped from the back. Navid and Ben had spent lots of afternoons in my humble estate, so they did not need any personal information.

“One-Twenty Rancho Road, what time are you planning on leaving?”

“I was going to tell them eight, is that ok?”

“Push it to nine-thirty; your parents are doctors right?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, push it to nine. I don’t want to get in trouble for exposing their son to weed for the first time.”

“It’s fine; I can hide it.”

“You’ve never been stoned before. I guarantee you’re writhing on the floor laughing after your first drop.” I had taken a liking to droppers over the past months and had made a drastic switch to them. I highly recommend them as they are odorless and take a more direct route to the brain, resulting in a harder high. At this statement, Navid burst out into laughter.

“Same goes for you.”

“I’ve told you, I have smoked before.”

“I’m still apprehensive about your experience.”

“Shut up, Jack. You know I’m getting real sick of you not believing me.” The card had only left the school premises, and we were already engaged in petty combat; This would be a very pleasant occasion.

My car turned out onto the highway. Ahead, a long line of stopped cars waited for us. Red lights broke through the light like lasers, causing me to groan.

“Navid, can we take your road?”

“Sure.” Navid lived right off the highway. A long winding road brought you to an overlook which in time lead to Navid’s house. My father had discovered this route upon taking Navid home for the first time. From that time on, we had rarely taken the main road. If Navid had not been in the car, I would not have hesitated or asked his permission to use his code. It rarely changed, and if it was, I could usually gain access simply by saying I forgot the code and was on my way to the Daliri residence, this worked most of the time, however once in awhile I would fail and be forced to drive down to the main road. When the turn came, I swiftly turned my car to the right, flinging everybody in the back against the window.

“What the hell, Jack,” Ben yelled emotionlessly. He had grown accustomed to my pathetic driving abilities.

“Deal with it or leave.” I retorted complacently. My car had slight trouble climbing the steep ascension, but it seemed always to make it; This disappointed me, as if my car unfortunately died, my parents would be forced to buy a new one for me. I am truly a spoiled brat, and my surroundings only amplify this.

Reaching the top, we with the spectacular sight which has become just another view in our simple minds. Again, I must draw attention back to my atrocious demeanor and pessimistic outlook on life. As we were driving, a particular house caught Navid and Tom’s attention. A large, a story Spanish style architecture mansion. Villas personally make me sick, but this house was more than that. What drew the attention of my companions feeble minds was who lived in the house.

“Hey, you looking forward to going with Molly Carter?” Ben sniggered.

“What? Are you mental? I’m dreading that get together.”

“Then why did you ask her?” Navid asked pridefully.

“You were the one that told me to.”

“Well you still didn’t have to.”

“What can I say, you’re just hard to say no to babe.”

“Shut up,” he yelled, using his two fingers to jab my sides. I loathed this and he refused to stop until I turned and boasted my own physical force.

“You didn’t have to go with her.” Tom interjected.

“Yeah. You’re right, but my father implored me to do so. Now he is the one whom is hard to say no to.” I should probably fill you in on the details of this joke.

Two weeks prior, I had hit a patch of, especially bad judgment. During this time, I had decided to ask a particularly desperate girl to the prom. We had had past relations, but I had never truly given her the light of day, until that fateful day. She had hastily replied yes, informing me that she was looking forward to going. A day later, she texted me again, telling me that she had already purchased her dress and directing me to buy something that matched with light pink; this I could tell, was a bad sign. Buying a dress the day after a proposal is a sure sign of crazy intent. Realizing that I was already knee deep in blood, I found it easier to continue along the path than attempt a turnaround. Before I had a chance to achieve equanimity, I received another message; Molly had invited me on a date to the local aquarium. Not wanting to come off as rude, I graciously accepted. I looked toward the day with a feeling of unparalleled dread. I have a strange ability to sense when I am about to commit a cosmic fuck-up, this came rather early in our day together. The two of us had chosen seats in the balcony of the open water exhibit. The lights were off, and we were vague outlines to the casual passerby. Having no concern for my future well being, I leaned over and kissed her. We held lip contact for a decent amount of time, enough time for me to realize the magnitude of my mistake. Sadly, it was too late. I had found myself drawn in, and my only option was to continue along the slope. I’ve come to learn that when faced with a slippery slope, it is better for one to ride it down than struggle against it, as if you ride the currents you will still have the energy to drag yourself to safety after your fall.

Our day did not end there, as it turned out I still had plenty of time to make a fool of myself. The two of us exited the aquarium After that. It’s a shame, before that I had always enjoyed that place, now it will forever be stamped in my mind as a place of unholy sin. We decided to head to the ocean, deciding on a pitiful excuse for a beach. The sand stretched a measly ten feet, ending in a pathetic cove, yet for some reason, tourists flocked to this land. To the left of the entrance a beat down, wooden boardwalk stood above the beach, keeping guard against the waves. This gave teenagers like me a perfect opportunity to make catalytic mistakes as no one had time to enforce the trespassing laws and people like myself always crawled underneath with loved ones and drugs, eager to find their private sanctuary. This simple structure caught Molly’s eye in a peculiar way. I had always taken her as the prudent type, rarely, if ever, putting it out. The two of us had been wrapped arm in arm and laying on the beach when she began restlessly looking around. Confused, I asked her what she was looking for,

“Somewhere more private.” She replied nonchalantly; This took me aback, as I have said before, I believed her to be the reserved religious type. When her eyes came upon the underside of the boardwalk, she jumped up, taking me by the hand.

“Come on.” She ordered.

“Where are we going?” I asked, a bit terrified of the drastic change in Molly’s personality.

“Under the Boardwalk,” this was enough for me. Being the blockhead I am, I followed her.

The underside of the boardwalk was a damp and dark place, yet I did not care. I was completely driven by lust, unaware of how my actions would affect me in the near or distant future. Luckily, no water dripped down from above, keeping us dry. Rocks jutted out in random jagged positions, and I had to take Molly’s hand at certain spots. To our right, the ocean surged against the land, an epic battle of force set out for the pleasure of the beholder. Eager to begin, I settled for a set of piece of flat land. Broken down walls which were once part of a canary protected us from the casual wanderer. The plot overlooked the ocean, a sight which was truly spectacular. I looked at her and she at me. I went in for the kiss, but only met with her hand.

“What is it?” I questioned.

“I just don’t want you to lead me on this journey and leave me again.”

“I promise I won’t. I’m different now. I promise you that.” I kissed her and she me, but after a short amount of time she broke away.

“It’s just.”

“Just what?”

“You’ve broken my heart before and I don’t want that to happen again.”

“I promise it won’t. I was a kid last time. A fucking child. I’ve grown up and I’m ready for whatever is to come next.” Of course, all of those were lies. The truth is, I did not care about the well being of this girl. She was nothing to me.

Sadly, we did not engage in any behavior other than kissing. I will admit that she had a superb body which I felt while kissing. Being the intelligent girl she made herself out to be; she did not give me a chance to reach up underneath her shirt, which I wish I could’ve done. Well, what can you do? You win some, and you lose some.

The day after that splendid occurrence, I hit one of my deepest lows of the season. For some unnamed reason, I felt remarkably blue. Perhaps this feeling was somewhat guilt based, but at the time I did not delve deep into my mind. I was terrible in those situations, always allowing my lust to get the better of myself.