Chasing Nikki(3)

The memories resurfaced in my mind for the millionth time, despite my desperate attempts to ignore them.

“Happy seventeenth birthday, Chase!” my dad said, smiling as he handed me the keys to the gorgeous white extended cab Dodge Ram pickup, with dark tinted windows, sitting in the driveway.

“Are you for real?” I exclaimed as I took them and hurried toward the truck. “I can’t believe you got it!”

My dad laughed. “Well, it was either that, or listen to you go on about it every time we drove past the dealership together. I even got it in your favorite color. I still think the cherry red one was better though.”

“No way. White is always the best,” I replied, and he chuckled again.

“White isn’t even a color. It’s … white, like the absence of color.”

“I don’t care. It’s my favorite.” I grinned as I opened the driver’s side door and hopped in, running my hands in awe over the steering wheel before leaning over to check out the stereo system.

“So, do you like it then?” Dad’s voice broke into my thoughts.

“I love it!” I said, sliding from the vehicle.

He clapped me into a big bear hug, patting me hard. “You deserve it. You’re a great kid!”

“Thanks, Dad.”

“Don’t forget I love you,” he added quickly. “Now get to school, and hurry straight home after football practice tonight. Mom’s going to need some help with your party.”

“Yes sir.” I smiled, bending to pick up my back pack I had dropped on the concrete.

“Sorry I won’t be there. I’ll try to call you tonight from Denver.”

“Okay, sounds good. Hope your meeting goes well.” I climbed inside the truck and started it.

He stood in the driveway, waving at me as I drove away and headed to school.

That night I came home from practice to find my mom sobbing on the couch, nothing ready for my party.

“What’s the matter?” I asked, dropping my gear and hurrying to her side.

“Your dad’s secretary called. His plane crashed on the way to Denver.”

“What?” My heart sank. “Is he okay?”

“No one on board survived.”

Her words seared into me, sinking like a branding iron, burning through every layer, and for a moment I forgot to breathe.

I took a deep gasp now, bringing myself back to reality as I realized I was holding my breath once again. My hands were clenched into fists, and I flexed them, forcing myself to relax as I turned to stare out the window.

That was the day my life had turned for the worse. Everything, it seemed, started falling apart in that moment. My dad’s estate was settled and most of the money went to pay off the debts of our family’s high priced lifestyle. We lost our ritzy Canyon Heights home and moved from Scottsdale to a cheaper neighborhood in Mesa, Arizona.

I had to change schools, which caused me to lose my spot as quarterback on the football team, and the friends I had seemed to disappear into the woodwork.

No one cared I was an all-star athlete at my last school. I went from being popular, to just the new face in a sea of four thousand others.

A few kids from the partying crowd befriended me early on, and I quickly joined in with them, eager to escape the things banging around in my head. They invited me to hang out that weekend, and when they passed the blunt to me, it suddenly seemed to be just the thing I needed. A little something I could get lost in to help take the edge off.

All it took was one time, and I was hooked. I’d never really considered myself the drug and alcohol type, but that soon changed. I lived for the next party, knowing I’d be able to sink into that blissful numbness waiting for me there.

I tried to hide my new lifestyle from my mom in the beginning, and was fairly successful. Over time though, I started growing more careless as I sunk deeper into things, and she started growing suspicious. I knew she was catching on when she started grilling me about being late and who I was with.

I became the master of evasion with her, unwilling to give up the new world I’d created for myself. She started grounding me for breaking the rules, or she would take away my phone and truck for the weekend. I quickly solved that problem by keeping a little stash hidden in my room, breaking it out when she would leave for work, or I’d lock my door, turn up the music and climb out the window onto the roof to smoke.

My dealer was a hot girl from school, and I started dating her. Sometimes she would come over to party with me all day at the house. My mom never knew that some of the worst things I’d ever done happened right in my own bedroom while she was punishing me. Thankfully, she’d never caught on.