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As we scrambled to get our shit together, Pez dust billowed all over the car. “Shit!” we yelled at the exact same time. We heard the first bell off in the distance. Fuck! Shit! Fuck! I’ll think of something.” I had been so busy over the weekend that I had forgotten about our little run-in with ‘the management.’ “Fuck. That bastard is always out to get us, man.” Hopper said he knew we were up to no good and gave us detention anyway? Probably wanted to suspend us, that fucker, but didn’t have enough just cause.” Remember last Thursday? We nearly got caught with the blue stuff and Mr. He was always doing stupid and usually very funny shit like this. Now before anyone gets the wrong idea here: Mikey was not and never had been a druggie, but when you grow up in the middle of nowhere, you get bored. “Does it get you high?” I said, disbelieving. “I’m crushing Pez,” Mikey said, his tone of voice asking, ‘What the fuck do you think I’m doing?’ “Ugh, back to the grind,” I exclaimed to Mikey, who was crushing some Pez candy in the front seat. I stretched, trying to get back into school mode after a weekend of nonstop work at the Captain Hook Inn and at the farm, finishing up the sweet corn season. On Monday, I pulled the Camaro into the school parking lot and parked in my usual spot, toward the back of the lot, and cut the engine. I was hopeful that I could sail my way to graduation with minimal effort. AP History, AP Lang & Comp, AP Chemistry – the rest were fuck-off classes (gym, art, etc.). I had survived the first couple of weeks of school relatively unscathed.
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