The months went by. The frigid chill of winter gave way to the spring of 1983. I heard through the grapevine that Mike was leaving school to go to independent study classes. This rumor filled me with dread and reminded me that I still had a piece of unfinished business. Independent study was one of those state-sponsored atrocities that accounted for more dropouts than anything else. I should actually say IS, since the thing still existed before my recycling. What happens is a poor student is encouraged to leave mainstream high school and go to a separate campus for study. They are required to be there only twelve hours a week and are given various assignments to complete at their own pace. They and their parents are told that they can graduate this way if they only complete the meager amount of work that is supplied. What inevitably happens is that the student in question finds that even twelve hours a week is too much and they eventually leave it for the abyss of drop-out status. The whole thing is nothing more than a false hope for parents and a dead-end for students. Mike was no exception. He would be in independent study for less than two months before leaving school behind forever. He would eventually pay money to be crammed for his GED so he could get into the Air Force where he would ultimately be dishonorably discharged for marijuana use.
I had to take a shot at preventing this. I simply had to.
That week I had my Dad deposit only $24.50 in my savings account, keeping an extra fifteen bucks for myself. Naturally, since this was a break in the routine, he questioned it.
"Swaying from your convictions a little?" He asked as I handed him the deposit slip.
I shrugged, grinning sheepishly. "I guess you guys are right." I told him. "I SHOULD enjoy myself once in a while. I thought I'd just blow fifteen bucks on something this time as a reward."
"Well good for you." Dad told me. "What are you going to spend it on?"
"No firm plans." I lied. "Maybe I'll just spend it all on video games down at the arcade. You know, Space Invaders and all that?"
"Well you deserve it." He told me, putting his signature next to mine.
The following Monday at school I found Steph wandering through the halls. She was glad to see me.
"Do you think maybe your brother can get me an eighth of some good greenbud?" I asked.
"Does the Pope shit in the woods?" She smiled. "You got the cash?"
I handed her fifteen bucks, a ten and a five. She took it from me and then peeled off the five and handed it back to me. "For you it's only ten." She smiled. "IF, you let me bring it over to your house today to deliver it personally."
I looked her up and down, remembering what her body had felt like beneath mine. And it was five bucks. I'd certainly made worse deals in my life. "You're on." I told her. "Just show up right after school. I have to work today."
"I'll be there." She promised, stuffing the ten into the pocket of her jeans.
She was there. She handed me a plastic baggie of pungent pot and then we retired to my bedroom. I enjoyed her body in as many different ways as I could imagine while she enjoyed mine. She left with a smile on her face.
I stuffed the pot she'd given me under the center of my mattress and headed for the shower. I had to be to work shortly after Dad got home.
The next day, Tuesday, I found Mike wandering through the halls between third and fourth period. I took a deep breath and then walked up to him, matching his pace when I was beside him.
"What's up Mike?" I asked carefully.
He looked over at me, his face registering instant hostility, obviously debating whether or not to speak to me. Finally he said, "Nothin'."
"Haven't seen you in a while." I commented.
He shrugged. "Been busy." He told me.
I nodded wisely. "Yeah." I replied. "Me too. Workin' and everything. Listen, I was thinking that maybe we could get together after school today. Bullshit a little you know. Just like old times."
"Naw." He said instantly. "Got things to do."
I nodded again. "Okay." I answered, knowing that I was resorting to dirty tricks but it was a desperate situation, wasn't it? "Too bad. I just scored an eighth of some killer greenbud."
His eyes lit up like pinball machines. "Really?" He asked, his disinterest dropping away instantly.
"Yeah." I said. "But it's cool. If you got things to do…"
"Well I can prob'ly come over for a while." He put in. "You know, we haven't hung out in a while."
"Cool." I said, suppressing a smile. "I'll see you after school then."
"Right."
On the way home from school I asked Tracy and Cindy if they maybe wanted to go to the mall for a few hours before Dad got home from work.
"The mall?" Cindy asked, lighting a cigarette. "I was hopin' you had some new albums to show me today."
Tracy gave her a look of annoyance and then turned to me. "What's the matter Billy, you getting' shy about your study sessions with our friends?"
"No." I answered. "Not at all. I have something important to do today. Mike's coming over."
"Mike!" Tracy said, disgusted now. "That fuckin' hoser! I thought you'd wised up and stopped hangin' out with him."
"Please?" I said, not offering any explanation. "This is important. If you guys go out for a while I'll smoke some of the bud I scored with you later."
That did the trick. I'd long since learned the barter power that the possession of a little marijuana held in a teenaged society. Cindy let me out at the curb and roared away shortly afterword, Tracy in the passenger seat, with a promise not to return until Dad got home.
Mike pulled his Beetle to the curb soon after.
Our conversation was cautious and casual as we went to the garage and smoked ourselves into oblivion with Tracy's bong that I liberated from the secret hiding place in her room. By the time we re-entered the house we were well into the stratosphere. I hoped I was coherent enough to speak my mind effectively through the drug haze. My own intoxication was countered by the fact that Mike, in his stoned state, would be extremely susceptible to suggestion. We watched some TV for a few minutes while we munched on some food we'd found in the fridge. By the time we went to the garage for our second set of bonghits, we were comfortable speaking to each other despite our months of separation.
"I hear you're going to go to independent study." I said as I dumped the bong water down the sink and rinsed the chamber.
"Yep." He nodded, obviously excited about it. "My parents put in the application the other day. The counselor says it'll be approved and I can prob'ly start next month. After only six months of it I'll graduate."
"Six months huh?" I said. "And you only have to go twelve hours a week?"
He nodded. "Isn't that fuckin' cool. And I get to schedule my own twelve hours. I can go six hours for two days and take the rest of the week off, or four hours for three days, or three hours for four days. Whatever I want."
I carried the bong upstairs and replaced it in Tracy's room. Mike took a seat on the couch while I was gone. When I returned I sat next to him and took a sip out of a soda.
"Mike," I asked. "Do you realize that you're being encouraged to drop out of school?"
"What?" He replied, looking at me with renewed hostility.
"The system is encouraging you to drop out of school. Independent study is nothing but a joke, a joke designed to allow people to drop out with some measure of self-respect intact. First they offer you something that sounds appealing: you only have to go to school twelve hours, you work at your own pace, you'll get to graduate early. It's an offer too good to be true."
"What the fuck you talking about?" He asked. "It's not too good to be true.
That's how it works."