Survival Of The Fittest

Amber peeked out from between the blinds of her living room window as her parents' car exited the driveway and sped off into the distance.

It was date night for her parents; they always went out every few months when they had some spare cash, usually coming back sometime past midnight. It was always the perfect night for some friends to come over, hang out, and maybe get a little bit stoned.

Amber didn't know how many of her friends were actually coming over, she knew Christine was going to arrive soon, but her other friends had yet to actually respond to her invite. Even if it was just Christine, though, it'd probably be a great time anyway. She was always happy to have company, no matter if it was a party or just a single friend.

Hey, don't forget about me!

Or, rather, two friends.

Amber pulled the old wooden pipe that her dad owned out of her pocket, having tucked it away as her parents were getting ready for their date. It had been years since her dad smoked, she barely even remembered a time when she saw him sitting out on their porch, the pipe resting in his hand, burnt matches sitting in an ash tray nearby. He never noticed when she took it for nights like these, and it was probably going to stay that way.

Amber's phone buzzed on the table nearby, prompting her to pick it up and check. Christine had sent her a text; she was apparently just a few minutes away, at the traffic light near Amber's house that always seemed to stay red for too long. Christine wasn't Amber's best friend, but she was a good friend. They didn't share a lot of interests, beyond Amber's occasional foray into cannabis use and Christine's dependency on it, but they got along well, often partnering up in classes they shared and eating lunch together.

Amber fiddled with the pipe in her hand, wishing that Christine was here already so they could take advantage of the time they had. Amber didn't have any weed herself–-otherwise she would have already started smoking--she didn't know a dealer, and always had to go through her friends, giving them part of what she had saved from summer jobs to make up for her mooching off of them.

I'm sure they appreciate spending time with you, that's why they let you mooch in the first place.

Yeah, yeah, I know. You don't need to be so nice to me.

If I wasn't here to be nice to you, you know you wouldn't be nice to yourself, right?

Amber smiled a little as she absentmindedly stared out her window. Yeah, I guess.

Amber sat down on the living room couch, lolling her head back and staring at the ceiling. She had already done all the preparation for her friends coming over; she had already gotten some snacks and brought them up to her room, she had already cleaned up and made the house look presentable, she had already gathered up all her disparate DVDs and Blu-ray discs so they could watch whatever movies they wanted on her hand-me-down TV, she had even already opened the window, to air out the smell of the smoke when they get started.

She had nothing to do but just... wait.

You can always talk to me if you're bored you know.

Yeah, but didn't we just spend two hours talking as I got everything together? Let's just relax for a bit.

Well, just remember, I'm always here!

As if I'd ever forget.

Today her flavour of gum was peppermint. While it certainly wasn't her favourite flavour, it was good enough for her to enjoy.

((Christine Summers Pregame: Start))

Granted, she wasn't going to have any of her gum just yet. She was saving the pack for when she needed to head home later. Amber had invited her over and she knew that meant one thing. It was time to smoke some weed.

She wouldn't say that Amber was her closest friend in the world, but she was definitely a cool chick to hang out with. While it was a shame that they didn't share that many hobbies, she did smoke weed and enjoyed smoking with her. That was enough for Christine to consider her a friend. Weed was a unifying force in her life. A way to connect with others. Once she heard from Amber that her parents were out, she seized on the opportunity to smoke with her good friend. If others were there, that'd be even better. Though Amber never specified the exact number of people who were arriving.

In an ideal world, she would've smoke one or two blunts by now so that she was in a suitable state of euphoria. Unfortunately, Amber never had or was interested in getting weed for herself. Christine would've liked to have said that she didn't mind in the slightest sharing her own weed cause she generally found smoking with others a more enjoyable experience than smoking alone. It did mean that she had to spend more time chasing after Camilla, Parker or some other dealer to get more stash for herself which was a bit of a pain considering how difficult it could be at times. At least Amber paid for her share. That was a lot better than most people at parties.

She took a larger batch than normal to tonight, knowing that Amber was going to borrow more of her stash. For tonight, she had managed to accumulate a nice stash of indica, saving it for times such as this. Christine didn't tend to be too picky about the type of strain she got. She mostly went with what she was able to get. However, she did have a particular preference for indica and as such preferred to save it for special occasions. This was special enough for her to take out the batch she was storing. Safely tucked away in a glass jar in her bag, she made sure to be extra careful with the jar, surrounding it with old clothing to pad it just in case she fell off her bike or anything.

She was temporarily halted at the same traffic light she was always halted at. She swore that it was cursed or at the very least had a grudge against her. Sighing, she took out her phone and quickly sent a message over to Amber to tell her what was going on. It wasn't like she was far away, but she personally hated being late and this traffic light wasn't helping. Some might question why she was riding a bike instead of taking a car or something if she was worried about getting there on time. She knew how tonight was going to go. If she was gonna get back home, at least it'd be much harder to put others in danger. Plus, not like her parents would ever consider getting her a car.

After what felt like an eternity, the light turned green and Christine pedalled as fast as she could to Amber's. It luckily didn't take her long before she arrived at the familiar porch. Resting her bike on the ground just in front of the entrance, she moved towards the door and rung the doorbell.

Her fingers were crossed that she wasn't too late.

Amber was on her feet before the doorbell finished ringing, putting the pipe down on the couch and rushing over to the door.

Briefly looking through the peephole to make sure it was who she thought it was, Amber flung the door open and excitedly gave Christine a hug, squishing the other girl into her chest. Letting her go, Amber smiled. "I'm glad to see you! You can put your bike around back. Go ahead and head up to my room, like always. I'll be up too, in a second."

Amber hurried back over to her couch as Christine went up the stairs before picking up her pipe, only to hear her phone buzzing again. Snatching it up, she saw a text from Erika displayed on her lock screen:

"Got your invite, coming over now!"

She smiled, hitting the lock button on her phone and tucking it away in her pocket. Erika was a good friend of hers, they often bonded over their mutual love of the art of cinema, though with their newest school schedules they hadn't been able to spend much time together during school hours during the last year. Amber was happy to get some more time together with her.

Trudging up the stairs to her room, Amber gripped the railing a bit too tightly as she climbed, noting the ache in her lower back before gently opening her door and going in.

Amber's room was relatively plain to look at, the walls of her room were pink, the carpet being a basic slightly off-color white with the occasional faded stain from Amber spilling various fruit juices and wet foods over the years. In the far corner of the room opposite the door, her twin sized bed sat, a basic pink comforter and pillow messily arranged on it from Amber's turbulent sleep the night before. In the corner across from her bed, an aged desk sat, having obviously been picked up off of the street. Amber's laptop sat on the desk, the back adorned with various stickers, along with a small lamp and a bunch of scattered notebook paper, adorned with Amber's messy scrawls. In the corner opposite her desk, a somewhat new dresser stood, an old and relatively small flatscreen TV sitting on top of it, along with a Blu-ray/DVD player. A stack of DVD and Blu-ray cases sat on top of the player, with the rest of Amber's relatively impressive collection tucked away in the bottom drawer of her dresser. A small hamper sat next to the dresser, full of the many articles of clothing that had been scattered around her room just hours ago. Near the center of the room were two beanbag chairs, one of them somewhat ragged and worn looking, and the other fresh and untattered. On the wall between her bed and her desk, a window sat, the hot pink curtains drawn and covering it.

Christine had made herself at home, already sitting in one of Amber's beanbag chairs. Amber quickly went over to her window, parting the curtains and propping open her window. It was the middle of autumn, so the air outside was fortunately neither too hot nor too cold. Closing the curtains again, Amber walked over to her bed and flopped over into it, sighing happily as the pain in her back subsided.

((Erika Stieglitz continued from Forest Green))

Today had been a pretty lovely day, all things considered. She’d woken up on the right side of the bed, and followed waking up with a gingerbread cookie positively laced with cannabis.

The night before her father had shared with her a bit more information about what she might expect to have to do if Freie Universität Berlin accepted her application. Which, all things considered, was looking increasingly likely. She had German citizenship from her father and connections in the university from a few of his colleagues, and had visited earlier in the year to scope the place out. It was definitely her jam.

Green science? Having to speak enough German to finally kill the last bit of Texan in my voice? Heck yeah.

Some part of her felt a bad about depending so heavily on nepotism, but she wasn’t going to turn down an easy ride to a University or the chance to escape Chattanooga to goddamned Berlin. Locals called it “poor but sexy.” In the half dozen or so trips there she’d seen nothing to dispel that assertion, and that was more than enough encouragement.

Most of the morning had been spent rolling around in bed high as a kite, daydreaming about a place where her flavour of weird was perfectly acceptable, if not outright encouraged. That had been pretty awesome but at some point she was going to have to actually put on real human clothes and go do something. This was a crucial part of her self-care – being able to accomplish at least one little thing on any given day so that it was easier to justify going to sleep at the end of it.

Little victories are just as important to cherish as the big ones, you know.

Luckily her phone let out an unexpected rumble, an invite from Amber to come over and get high. Well, in Erika’s case – higher. She didn’t need any convincing; it was a good reason to get out of the house. Amber was pretty cool, and was the kind of weirdo Erika enjoyed spending time around. She also got the sense she had also something of a difficult childhood, though she never asked about it – it was just a vague feeling of familiarity in how Amber carried herself.

Feeling as utterly delightful as she did, Erika's social anxiety seemed like a distant memory, and it was easy to look forward to seeing Amber and whoever else might be dropping by to get utterly toasted.

That may be the drugs already in your system, hon.

She assembled herself as best as she could, setting her hair into more or less the appropriate level of colourful chaos. Not having to set foot in a school today meant she could wear what she actually wanted to – which meant a long patchwork skirt and a green hemp crop top. She’d picked it up on a whim months ago and never actually wore it, and seeing it in the mirror for the first time made it difficult not to grin. For years she’d avoided much of anything revealing, on the assumption that with her thin frame she’d never actually develop breasts despite the supposed “magic” of HRT.

No, no it’s pretty fucking magical alright.

She’d never been so happy to be so profoundly wrong in her whole life. It made it hard to worry about what her shoulders or hands may or may not look like now that she had… those. Regardless of whether it was drug induced confidence or the possibility she might be finally getting over her dysphoria, Erika left the house with a spring in her step.

Now if only like half of the attractive guys in our year weren’t gay. Or at least a little less gay.

She sent off a text to Amber as she left on her bike. Packed into her messenger bag was a quarter ounce of legitimately awe-inspiring cannabis; it was nestled next to her vaporizer and a laminated courtesy card signed by a Detective Sergeant Mark Ferrie. Mark was a friend of Erika’s mother from the shooting club, and had given her the card to give to Erika after a “spirited” discussion about cannabis legalization. She found it hard to agree with carrying it on principle, though not so much from a practical standpoint.

If that ain’t privilege, I don’t know what is.

It didn’t take too long to reach Ambers’ place, though Erika didn’t exactly hurry. The world was still something of a pleasant haze and since it was mostly downhill, she coasted lazily. The usual sideways glances accompanied her passing, but felt easy to keep a brave face. Everything felt so very easy.

Uh oh. A door. With a bell. I am undone.

Erika stood at the door, unsure of whether or not she was supposed to ring the doorbell. She tentatively put a finger to the button before withdrawing it. What if Amber wasn’t home alone?

She said she was. Why would she be smoking at home if she wasn’t?

Right. So it was probably okay to ring the bell. But what if it was loud? What if she hated when people used the bell, and wanted to just knock? Of course, if she knocked there was the chance Erika might not knock loudly enough, and so she wouldn’t hear it at first. Then there would be an awkward moment at the door.

The thinking machine. Use it.

Of course, a text message! That would solve everything. She sent the message, solving everything.

Hey fren, I’m here and stuff. c:

To Erika’s relief, the door opened. She beamed brightly, happy to see a friend. “Heey, I made it, and I came prepared with uhh..." Her smile shifted into a crooked, mischevious grin. “...I’ll tell you upstairs. How goes?”

"Haha hey, Amber!" Christine exclaimed as she was suddenly glomped by her friend. She was glad she had the foresight to put her bike away before opening the door as she didn't want to imagine the possible entanglement of limbs and bike parts that could've occurred. Even if she had the tendency to squeeze the life out of you at times, she still appreciated a nice Amber hug. Amber was certainly more physical with her displays of affection than most of her friends. That didn't preclude her from enjoying them when she gave them out.

Nodding her head in affirmation, she took her bike around back as she usually did. Amber was in a neighbourhood that didn't have the risk of someone jumping into the back garden and stealing the bike, so she saw no need to set up the bike lock. With how high she was planning on getting, she wasn't sure if she'd be able to undo the lock in her inebriated state.

Christine knew Amber's house like the back of her hand. Or at least, where her room was in said house. She never really needed to go anywhere else except the bathroom. She traipsed up the stairs with little delay and slid into the room. The room where the magic happened.

From the look of things, she wasn't late. Victory! She was the only one there, however. Was she too early? She could be the only one invited. That was fine. She could work with that. Probably would mean they'd be able to smoke less, but at least there was enough for the both of them to reach a suitably high state. Probably for the best she didn't subject herself to couch lock by accident again.

As for the room, she'd seen it in worse states. Granted, those worse states tended to come once they were leaving rather than when they came in. Shit happened when you get high. At least they didn't break anything? She was pretty sure they didn't break anything. If they did break anything, at least Amber didn't resent them or anything like that. Then again, what if she actually did and was just keeping her resentment under wraps? No no no. She needed to chill. Today was a chill day.

Christine found her beanbag and flopped onto it. She shivered a little when the window was open and the wind blew in. It wasn't that the wind was particularly cold, but the introduction of wind was enough to disrupt the temperature around her. As much fun as it would be to have a hotbox in a warm room, Amber probably wouldn't appreciate the lingering smell of weed for the next few weeks and neither would her parents. The latter in particular was something she really didn't want to think about.

She popped out her metal grey aluminium pocket grinder as Amber looked at her phone and headed out of the room. Might as well start preparing for the night ahead. She ground her indica and started to roll it into a joint as she heard the door open.

"Hey Erica!" Christine shouted, not moving from her spot as she took out her lighter and lit the end of her joint. Oh cool, so she wasn't alone after all and she definitely wasn't late. She took a satisfied puff out of her joint as she lounged back into the beanbag. Erica was cool. Stoners tended to flock together and she and Erica were no exception. Any smoking buddy was a good friend for Christine. She inhaled again, letting the weed circulate through her system and try to put her mind at ease. Everything was fine so far. There was no reason for her to panic.

Amber grinned, knowing that Erika probably had something fun planned. "Oh you know, the usual," she said, just to get past the obligatory small talk that she was always bad at.

"Come in!" She said, while gesturing up the stairs visible from the doorway. "Head up to my room, like usual. Go ahead and leave your shoes at the door too, parents are going to be out for a while, but they'll notice if anyone tracks mud in."

As Erika went inside, Amber leaned her head out the door, glancing up and down the street to see if she could spot any of her other friends coming, just in case they forgot to text her. Closing the door behind her with a click, Amber quickly traipsed up the stairs behind her guest, almost tripping over herself in her haste, before fetching the bags of snacks that she had set on the hallway table a few feet away from her door. It was a modest selection, some generic potato chips, generic cheese puffs, and some spicy jalapeno chips, the latter of which Amber would likely keep all to herself.

Leaning into her doorway and raising the bags triumphantly, she shouted "munchie fuel!" into the room, before quickly setting the bags on her desk and moving to her bed. She had forgotten where she had actually left her TV remote--she seemed to lose it every other day--though she guessed that it would likely be buried under the covers of her bed.

The smell of the weed smoke from Christine's joint was already beginning to permeate the room, even with her window open as it is. "Man, Christine, that smells really strong," she said, still searching her bed. "Can't wait to try it."

"Aha!" She shouted, as she found her TV remote. "Now the movienatining can begin!"

Spinning around to face her friends, Amber's knee collided with her bed post, splitting shards of pain quickly spreading throughout her entire leg. Biting her lower lip, she held in a scream, her right eye twitching slightly in response to the agony.

Are you okay?

No. No I am not.

Doing her best to ignore the pain while assuaging the concerns of her friends, Amber sat back down on her bed, before yanking her lighter, a handful of bills, and her dad's old pipe out of her pocket. "S-So, yeah, Christine, here's the m-money for the weed. I'll just put it in my pipe h-here."

"W-What do you guys want to watch, b-by the way?"

((So sorry this took so long, I’ll be faster from now on.))

Erika quickly made her way up to Amber’s room, following the scent of cannabis. She noticed Christine sitting on the beanbag chair, already having lit a joint.
It smelled a bit grassy with a faint hint of skunk – probably an indica, as she knew Christine was fond of body highs. Erika returned her greeting with a bright smile.

“Christine! Sup dude?”

There was probably space on the bed, but Erika always felt weird sitting on someone else’s bed, even if it was for a smoking sesh. Besides, she found floors could be oddly comfortable places, and she’d sat here the last time she was at Amber’s. There was also a power outlet nearby, in case her vaporizer needed juice, which it probably did. She sat next to the beanbag chair and began producing a few different items from her bag; the small grey cylinder that was her vape; an old timey vial with a stopper, replete with pre-ground weed, and the pieces to her pipe. She’d picked it up at a craft show for twenty bucks, but it was surprisingly sturdy. In the time she had it, she had adorned the bare wood with a number of abstract, colourful patterns. The proper name for the pipe was a churchwarden – Erika had another name for it:

“This is my wizard pipe.” She called him Earynspeir the Green, or Earyn for short. That was also the name of the Dungeons and Dragons character she played in her Discord game, which was not at all a coincidence.

As she screwed the pipe together, she saw Amber enter the room with snacks. The way she announced their presence was kind of adorable, and Erika couldn’t help but chuckle a bit. The levity was interrupted when she noticed Amber’s knee collide with the bed. Though she tried to hide it, Erika could tell she was in no small amount of pain. She was probably embarrassed, and addressing it wasn’t necessarily going to alleviate that.

Fortunately we’re all in possession of some pretty bomb painkillers.

Erika quickly packed the bowl of her pipe with the weed from the vial, and lit it with her lighter. Taking a small, intense hit, she let out a breath of fruity smoke with the slightest hint of pine. It was fantastic, and Erika motioned with the pipe towards Amber.

“No need to rush, friend. I’m down for whatever, which is probably the worst answer in the world but I’m already kind of blitzed. You guys have to try this: it’s Grapefruit Haze, from up in Canada somewhere. A friend of my Dad’s got some seeds. It’s like… a really hardcore sativa. Good for when you’re feelin’ a little depresso or in pain or just need a mood elevator. It’s a really fun high. Lots of giggles, smells like happiness, and doesn’t make you paranoid like some sativas do. Also you can totally look like a wizard doing it because I remembered to bring Earyn this time. I... I named my pipe after a wizard. It seemed to make sense at the time.”

And I’m already rambling. Oh dear.