Bottled Up Read Online Free

yells to me from in front of Robert Hahn, 1817-1878. “Where the hell you been?”
    Frankie got the name Slayer after he dyed his buzz cut and his eyebrows white. His skin is almost gray and he’s got the reddest freakin’ lips you ever saw on a guy that wasn’t wearing a dress. He looks just like the skinny guy on that Buffy the Vampire Slayer show. None of us knew his name so we just started calling him the Slayer guy. Frankie thought it was so cool, he got Slayer tattooed on his arm, right over his wrist, with a dagger going through the y.
    â€œI went over to the Dumpster looking for you after sixth period,” he said. “Friggin’ Tony came out and grubbed my last roach.” Slayer took a drink from a bottle he was holding, then passed it up to me.
    I grabbed it.
    â€œGot snagged by Giraldi today,” I told him. “I had to hit all my classes.”
    â€œNo way.” Johnny stood up in front of George Beattie and we knocked shoulders.
    â€œI’m in deep, man,” I told them, then took a drink from the bottle. I didn’t even care what I was drinking. I had an edge on me so sharp, I could slice something just by looking at it. It was going to take a hell of a lot of drink and smoke to keep from cutting myself on me.
    â€œGiraldi’s after my ass.”
    â€œWhat’s his problem?” Johnny dropped back down on his butt and leaned against George. I sat in front of Agnes.
    â€œIf I don’t go to every class, he’s kickin’ my ass out of school and calling the old man to tell him about it.”
    â€œThen we’d have to dig you a nice hole in the ground right here next to George and Agnes,” Johnny said, and Slayer started laughing.
    â€œNo joke,” I said, thinking about how I almost wet my pants when Giraldi had my father’s office on the line.
    Johnny lit up a joint and held it out to me. “So just go to classes for a couple of weeks. Then he’ll forget you just like everybody else does.”
    â€œI don’t think so,” I said, hoping my head would stop racing. “Not this time.”
    I didn’t tell the guys about Giraldi blackmailing me—nothing about the counseling. If those guys thought I was going to talk to anybody, they’d start looking over their shoulders. They wouldn’t trust me anymore.
    They weren’t going to know about the counseling—if I went.
    â€œDon’t let Giraldi get to your old man,” Johnny said. “Just do what you got to do to keep that phone from ringing.”
    Johnny knew what he was talking about. He’d seen my father in action a couple of times. You don’t forget that. Back when me and Johnny were in the seventh grade, right after his father split, he came over a lot. He saw things. He heard. He knows.
    I don’t go to Johnny’s apartment too much anymore either. Somewhere around the eighth grade his place started smelling funky. Everything was always a mess, old pizza on the table, dishes and cruddy pots in the sink. His mother is a garbage-head who keeps herself in supply by trading her body for drugs.
    I’m the only one of us guys who knows about that. Me and Johnny go back to junior high. We go back to when we didn’t know enough to keep our mouths shut and our front doors off-limits.
    â€œWhat are you going to do?” Slayer handed me back the bottle and I took another long pull on it before answering him.
    â€œAfter I drop my brother off at school in the mornings, I’m gonna get myself behind the Dumpster and smoke as much weed as I can before first period. I’m going to try and grab a few hits out the bathroom window between classes.”
    Slayer shook his head. “You’re going to have to, man. You’ll never make it all day without a buzz. I keep a bottle in my locker and get a bathroom pass so I can take a few swigs when the hall is empty.”
    â€œSee you tomorrow fourth