Alex Bergland

“Like I actually have a fucking clue. I don’t know, I’ve got a decent paying job at Sam’ Club. I might just keep working there for a while.” I breathe out the chest full of the smoke I was holding in.  “$11 and hour is pretty good for not much work,” I pass the half burned joint to Tom, to my right.

 

“Yeah but what do you want to do after that, do you want to go to college? You could probably get a little bit of a scholarship for soccer,” Says Jason.

 

“Maybe. But I don’t think I have the grades for college.” I am what you might call an underachiever. Through my last three and a half years at high school I only got two B’s. Those were my highest grades. I haven’t tried too hard at school. At anything, really. I have never been involved in any clubs and I don’t have any friends outside of the friends I came up through school with. The only thing I have done is play soccer and work part time at Sam’s club. I love soccer. That’s the only reason I don’t play hooky or drop out. It’s the only reason I have a 2.5 gpa too, the minimum to stay on the team. Without soccer the school probably would’ve kicked me out by now. But I am good at soccer. I’m one of the top scorers on the team and I know a couple scouts were in the stands of the last home game.

 

“Nah man, if they want you to play bad enough, they won’t really care about your grades. The teachers will probably excuse you from some of the work too since you’d be an athlete.” Says Chloe. “You know the guys at the D1 school’s probably aren’t reading their biology textbooks when they’re not at games or practicing.” Jason hands her the joint.

 

“Yeah, plus, think of all the parties! If you’re a college athlete, you know you’ll get laid at least once a week. Bitches love college athletes!” says Jason.

 

“And college girls have big ol’ titties, too!” says Tom. That was the first thing he’d said in a while, he was pretty stoned and has been reclined against the edge of the shed, kind of out of the circle but still takes the joint when I hand it off to him.

 

“Mmm. College titties.” Chloe dreamily blinks bloodshot eyes and stares off into space.”

 

I grinned sheepishly. I do love titties. “Maybe.” I say. “I don’t know, I’ll think about it.”

 

“We can be roommates if you come to MU!” Jason says with a grin.

 

Chloe passes me the joint. It’s almost cashed. Maybe a couple hits left in it. “Absolutely fucking not! I know you and Kim will be fucking nonstop. I like to play APEX without listening to my roommates having sex.” Even so, it was tempting, and I know Jason would be a fine roommate. “Anyone else what this?” I hold out the stinger joint in the middle of the circle, filter up.

 

Chloe stands up and holds out her hand to dap me up. “Nah I’m good on that. I’m gonna go home and finish a painting. Nothing inspires me like getting baked and thinking about titties.” She chuckles.

 

The other two follow her lead and stand up, brushing the dirt off their butts and checking to make sure they still have everything in their pockets. “Yeah me too, toss it,” says Jason.

 

“You guys getting on later?” I ask as they start to walk out of the driveway that runs beside the house. Unless there was an extenuating circumstance, we would always get on Xbox and play APEX together after before we went to sleep.

 

“Yeah I’ll hop on after I eat something,” says Tom.

 

“Dope. See ya!” I call after them.

 

“See ya!” they repeat.

 

We all live in the same neighborhood and my parent’s house is kind of the middle point for everyone so everyone usually comes here, and for the last couple years we’ve been using the shed in my backyard to smoke in. It’s just a small old tin building with a push mower, a couple shelves, and just enough room for the four of us to sit on the floor by the mower and smoke. Dad knew we smoked out there. He doesn’t mind too much. He smokes pot sometimes too. Though he doesn’t exactly “approve” of it, he won’t do much more than give me shit for saying a high thought or coming in and devouring everything in the fridge.

 

“You smell like pot,” my dad says when I walked through the sliding glass back door. He is tidying up the kitchen. The lights are out and I figure mom has already gone to bed.

 

“Do we still have guac?” I ask.

 

“Man! My guac will be the victim of your munchies? What an awful fate.” Dad gives me a sideways joking smirk. “Yeah it’s in the fridge with the blue lid. Just save me enough for breakfast in the morning.” He walks out of the kitchen but stops before disappearing around the corner. “Get some sleep tonight, alright? Think about what I said about Truman.”

 

“Okay, goodnight dad. Love you.”

 

“Love you, too.” Dad says and walks down to his room, then shuts the door.

 

I’m alone in the kitchen with only the top light on. I find the guac and chips and pull out my phone when I get back to the table. The chips and guac are to my left but my eyes are on my phone while my left hand shovels chips overflowing with guac into my mouth. I have a couple Snapchats from Becca, the girl I have a crush on. I just got her second snap though, I’ll give that a few minutes to sit before I respond. I don’t want to seem too desperate. I keep crunching chips and guac, barely tasting it.

 

Dad wanted me to look into the soccer and history program at Truman State. That’s where he went to school. He thinks that might be a good fit for me. I had looked at it a little. It seemed fine and the way he talked it could be affordable. We aren’t well off and any college’s price tag is daunting to say the least. But mom and dad said they had been really good about putting money in my college savings, so that would help. I just need to get scholarships. But I don’t know. It feels like this is all happening so fast and I don’t even know what I would study if I go. It’s overwhelming, honestly. With my job at Sam’s I can just get by and not have to stress about anything. Plus, I heard they were thinking about making me an assistant manager in a year or so.

 

I don’t want to think about college or the future anymore. Every adult had been asking me the same questions every day and I don’t have the answers. I know what to say to them, but I don’t actually know what I’ll be doing after I graduate. I don’t have a clue. I’m sick of thinking about it.

 

I get in bed, put my headset on, and see a party invite from Tom. I joined him in the Apex lobby and we got a game going while we waited for the others to join.

 

I had gotten some sleep, and in the morning I feel a little more easy about the whole graduation thing. I think I will look into Truman and maybe even commit to going for just one semester. If I don’t like it I can always leave. Plus, I will be getting out of Platte City for a while. That could be fun. I haven’t lived anywhere else.

 

I grab a granola bar and walked out the door while checking my phone. Fuck. I forgot to respond to Becca last night. Mom and Dad are still sleeping and I’m not much of a breakfast person so I don’t make too much noise and head out soon after I get out of bed. I need to hurry a little because morning practice starts in ten minutes.

 

There’s a bunch of trash and fast food bags covering the floor of my passenger seat. That’s where I throw my backpack. I pull the little VW Golf out onto the street, turn onto 3rd, and then onto Branch. The sun is just rising and I’m driving into it. It’s a really pretty morning and there is a light dew on the grass beside the road.

 

“Shit, that sun is bright,” I say to myself and flip down the visor. But it’s still just as blinding because the sun is too low for the visor to be effective. I try and use a hand to cover the sun. “Having an astigmatism sucks ass.” I say under my breath. I hate driving at night or into the sun. Every time I end up having to slow down and grip the steering wheel until my knuckles turn white. 

 

I close my eyes for a second, just a second. Then there’s a car coming at me flashing its lights. I must’ve drifted into the wrong lane. My hands lock onto the wheel and turn it quickly, but it’s too late.

 

“No no no NO!” I scream. The front of the cars collide and everything slows down. The other driver looks just as scared as I feel. I’m lifted out of the driver’s seat and my head hits the windshield.