Glass (Crank, #2)

by Ellen Hopkins

Life was radical right after I met the monster. Later, life became harder, complicated.

You Know My Story Don’t you? All about my dive into the lair of the monster drug some people call crank.

How a summer visit to my dad sent me into the arms of a boy—a hot-bodied hunk, my very first love, who led me down the path to insanity.

I went to my dad’s in June, met Adam the very first day. It took some time to pry him from his girlfriend’s grasp. But within two weeks, he introduced me to the monster. One time was all it took to want more.

In days, I was hooked on Adam, tobacco, and meth, in no particular order.

I still had meat on my bones, the teeth still looked good. I didn’t stutter yet. My mouth could still keep up with my brain.

I just want to remind you that turning into Bree was a conscious decision on my part. I never really liked Kristina that much.

I chose her name (not sure where I got it), chose when to become her. What I didn’t expect was discovering she had always been there, inside of me. How could Kristina and Bree live inside of one person?

But you know this part of the story. You followed me on my journey through the monster’s territory. We wound up here.

I’d love to let you know I left the monster screaming in my dust, shut my ears, scrambled back to my family, back to my baby, my heart. I could tell you those things, but they’d be lies—nothing new for me, true.

Without a doubt I understand the monster and I are more than friends. We’re blood brothers. Or maybe blood sisters.

“Is there a problem, Mrs. Rosselli? I just want to catch up with old friends.” The longest pause of all. You’re not their friend, Kristina. You’re nothing but trouble they don’t need.

Being good all the time isn’t just hard. It’s damn boring.

Robyn is on a fast track to death. “What do you mean?” Like I don’t know exactly what he means. If you don’t know, you haven’t seen her lately. And if you haven’t seen her lately, I suggest you steer clear. She’ll take you down with her.

Now You Might Think That tender scene might make me change my mind, and truthfully, I have thought twice. But I don’t want to think again.

No, only one place comes to mind, an easy place, all things considered— Hunter’s rainy-day piggy bank.

She Makes It So Easy Handing me her keys, helping me pack, giving me money. I’d like to blame her for what may come, take dead aim and whack this big ball of guilt across the net, into her court, wait for her well-deserved volley. But that wouldn’t be accurate, wouldn’t be right.

He was a couple of years older, and a dark-haired hottie who surely knew a thing or two about kissing. Unlike me. I didn’t learn those ropes for another year or so. Looking back, I wish I had had a different teacher, one who really cared about me.

Maybe every single thing that happened in my life after that night would have turned out differently. Then again, maybe not.

Okay, this is déja vu-ish. I met my Adam, who I once believed was my soul mate, on a similar staircase. But this guy goes way beyond Adam—older,

I came here, meaning to go home reenergized. But now I don’t want to return to the artificial “home” created by my parents, my child. All of a sudden I feel more at home with a forgotten friend and a complete, very cute stranger.

I want to be back in the game. Lately, I think about it more and more. Like a sick little kid, I want to go outside and play. But I’ve never been especially good at choosing play partners.

Trey sits between Robyn and me. His knee rests against mine. The warmth of it fights the crystal’s chills, and turns me on completely. My face flares a deep, noticeable crimson. Robyn flashes a tweaker’s smile, one that says, Don’t fuck with me, or I’ll pay you back good. In fact, I’ll pay you back first. But what comes out of her mouth is, So, tell me all about your baby.

So, where’s Daddy? You living with him or what? Is he watching Baby tonight? The meth monster threatens to pounce, but I rein it in. Not a single vicious comment about Daddy the rapist.

I want him to tell me he needs me. Loves me. What am I thinking? I don’t want that at all. Yes I do want that. I want to be in love. Stop it! Don’t you know talking to yourself is a sign of insanity?

But I want someone—other than a baby—to love, and soon. I miss feeling special. Miss feeling beautiful.

I get to Reno sometimes. Will he come just for me? “Yeah, right,” Kristina says. “Trey is going to dump Robyn (who no doubt gives him head after giving him money) and drive over the Sierras for a frumpy chick with a baby, who lives with her parents, who are going to bust her anyway.”

Though it’s calling to me, Just one more little toot, I simply will not give in. I will keep the monster in check. I am stronger than any addiction. Right?

But, despite everything that went down over my summer in Albuquerque, I want to see Dad again. He’s a freak, true, and a piss-poor father. But he still belongs to me.

Imagine trying to play This Little Piggy when what you really want is to hook up with a guy for a great night of smoking and “touch me right there, please.”

It’s just that you’ve always had such big dreams. I don’t want to see you lose them. You made an immense mistake, but it shouldn’t mean the demise of all you worked so hard to accomplish.

I bet he’s got someone new. Not that I want to know. I’m not quite that masochistic.

Everything changes eventually. I know that’s true, but it’s hard to wait sometimes. Sometimes you just have to make things happen. I’m making things happen now. Whether they prove good or bad simply remains to be seen.

Before, I got high as a way to socialize, to fit in with the crowd, feel less inhibited around guys. This time, though, I’m spending more and more of my time, getting more and more buzzed, alone.

I want to be a good mom. I don’t want to be a mom at all. But what choice do I have?

Oh, Heather. Isn’t he adorable? she asks. Heather gives Hunter a top to bottom assessment, something like how a scientist checks out his pet lab animal. Then she pokes my eyes with hers. Uh-huh, she says. He must resemble his father.

Better I look like a sleep-around slut than he should ever find out he is the by-product of rape.

Oh. I ran into Buddy before I left. He said to send you his love.

I haven’t stopped to think about Buddy, aka Adam, in a very long time. Adam, who started me on the highway to nowhere. And guess where I’m standing now. [Pretty damn close to nowhere.]

Leigh: Rapid weight loss isn’t good, though. Heather: I’d love to know how she’s managed it. I’m going to kill her. [You don’t, I definitely will.]

Brendan flashes a smile laced with evil. I can’t stand him. I despise him. And now I have to look him in the eye?

Will never confess that my son [can evil be genetic?] is his son.

One more all-nighter, then I’ll quit cold [lukewarm] turkey.

Bree is screaming for the monster. Kristina keeps trying to say no. But somewhere deep inside she thinks Bree will win. [You know you want me to.] The only real question is when.

I want to be stunned by passion so intense it knocks me right off my feet, down to my knees, where I know I’ll surrender to this luscious insanity.

We’re kissing. Long. Deep. Amazing. My head spins and my heart pounds and Bree is demanding more, more, and suddenly, there is no Adam, no Chase, and there never, ever was.

“Don’t,” I plead. “I can’t.” Why not? “Not on a first date . . .” Come on! “ . . . even if it isn’t a date.” Tease. Déjà vu. “Not even.”

No shame in crying. No shame in hating. Go ahead, hate him. He deserves that and more.

And it isn’t until I run to the bank on my lunch break that it comes to me Kevin thinks I’m some sort of whore. I don’t see myself that way at all. Open-minded, yes. A druggie, sometimes. An unwed teen mother, for sure. But a sleep-around? No way. Never.

So am I a whore? [I am!] But I’m not. I want more than just sex. I want a relationship— someone to love and to love me.