How I Lost God – Which Turned Into a Long-Condensed Story of My Dysfunctional Life: Part 7

When school started back up I got right back into the bad clique. Then mid-way on during that 2nd 7th grade year came my last times in that house and town. I occasionally came home on the weekends to visit my parents after that. It was a Friday and I was going to stay at a friend’s house that weekend. My parents were going to be out of town all week-end on some church function so they dropped me off a carton of cigs at school. The office personnel confiscated them and the Vice Principle told me that I couldn’t have them back and put them in his desk. My friend, whom I was staying with that weekend, and a pseudo-friend, and I, all concocted a plan to get them back. Oh it was a great idea, I tell yea. We decided to skip the next class and pull the fire alarm and while everyone was outside we would infiltrate to front office and collect the goods. And I was supposed to have a high IQ; ha! Anyways we wait until everyone went into class and the 2nd bell rang and then we went into a stairwell and fought over who was going to do it. I was smart enough to know that I wasn’t pulling the damned thing. I don’t even remember much about this kid other than his name was Richard and that I had partied with him on occasion. I really don’t even know why this kid wanted to be a part of it other than he was always in trouble; he was known in our clique for calling in a few bomb threats to get out of school for the day, yet was never caught. He no more than pulled down the red handle and a myriad kids come storming down the stairwell. We immediately lost our nerve and filed right in with the closest class. When they called the all clear, we knew we couldn’t go back to a class mid-way. So we cheesed it and skipped the rest of the day. Bright and early Monday morning in 1st period we were all summoned via the P.A. to come to the front office. I knew the jig was up, but wasn’t going to cooperate. We 3 all sat staring at each other in the office with dread on our faces as we were called one by one before the Principle. Richard went first. When he came out he smiled at me proudly and strutted to his seat, presumably waiting for his parents to come pick him up. I soon found out why he was so flamboyant when he came out. I went in and was told that they knew we did it. And that we were the only kids in the entire school, which were in class before the incident, but not on the roll for the next class. Plus, he said that the fire alarm that was pulled was in the stair well right beside our hall. I didn’t crack; I played dumb. He then tells me that Richard had already told them the whole contrivance and then commenced to tell me the whole scenario. I was shocked at the kid’s stupidity. He even confessed to pulling the alarm. They knew, but couldn’t have proved it. He said that pulling it was a federal offense or some shit. He then told me to go outside and take a seat. Marty and I were expelled from school and Richard, who also had a bag of weed on him, was arrested and set away to a juvenile detention center. I never saw either one again. I had to walk the miles home and break in a window to get into the house and stayed there by myself for the weekend, because my parents were long gone. I was then sent the next week to live with my alcoholic uncle so I could go to school the remainder of the year. I had to sit with the Principle and get a speech that she didn’t have to let me in her school and that I had to prove to her that I was deserving. He loved me and usually treated me with respect, but life there was horrible. Him and his wife constantly fought over his alcohol abuse, while I comforted my little cousin daily. They left multiple times during my 5 months there. I always felt sorry for them and I was glad when she finally found the strength to leave for good to a better life that her and my little cousin deserved. It was a small school and I was very popular there as soon as I started. I was always popular at schools; kids envy funny delinquents for some dumb reason or another. I finally ended up getting suspended for the last week of school and my uncle and I had a falling out. He punched me, when in defense of his remarks about my parents, which were actually true, I called him a worthless drunk that had run his family off and ruined his own life. I moved back home, which was now in another city, where my parents were living in campus housing, due to my father having taken the call and was going to seminary to become a preacher. They had given my Lab back to the college kid when they moved because dogs weren’t allowed. My sister lived off and on with us, preferring for the most part to live with some of my more loving relatives in exchange for being an in-house nanny to there billion-and-one children. She was better off there anyways, at least she always felt loved with them, as her and my father never got over the fact that she was a stepchild, even though he had raised her from infancy. She had lived off and on with them throughout her whole upbringing. I never knew that she was my half-sister until I was 13 and her dad came to visit her for the only time in her life. I do remember corrupting a group of resident churchy kids on campus whom where sadly weak enough to try to follow my great example that summer. I met them all at the on-campus recreation center. Some of these kids didn’t even have TV’s in their homes, due to their parents’ overzealous religious dogmas, so you know they weren’t mentally ready to cope and withstand my rebellious influence. I quickly got a bad reputation on campus and most weren’t allowed even near me. My parents were real impressed. I also got banned from the Rec Center that summer. I started 8th grade in that city’s middle school. I instantly turned to the darkside, which turned into another period of debauchery continuing with the drugs, drinking, sex, skipping, suspensions, and within a mere 3 months, another expulsion from yet another school district. Shit I don’t even remember why I got thrown out for good; it wasn’t from just one incident I know that much. I remember skipping school once and doing acid and guzzling a 5th of Crown Royal and somehow ending up back at home that afternoon with my favorite pair of shoplifted, designer, baggy jeans ripped all the way down one leg. I never did acid again, it did too well messing with my then unknown bipolar mental wiring. Actually no drugs did well, but I continued to do the others, but mostly stayed with just pot after that. If I got real messed-up I usually ended up being that guy at the party that everyone wondered who had brought that crazy motherfucker there. Sickly, I soon learned to regulate my drug usage just enough to not hit that point. Man, are kids resilient!