Think about it. Who writes a book when they’re seventeen? Nobody I know. Nobody in Blaine, Michigan, anyway.

This story has no hero. In fact, if you’re into the hero thing at all you might as well put this book down and move on to something else, maybe visit the fantasy section of your local library or something. Personally, I think I’m about the farthest thing from a hero as one can get.

As for a happy ending, well … sorry, but there isn’t one of those, either. I guess that’s because everything here actually happened, and one thing we all know is that life can suck pretty badly sometimes. Happy endings sell a lot of books and movie tickets, but I didn’t write this to escape reality. I wrote it to deal with reality. My reality.

One last thing: you know that old saying about nobody being perfect? Well, I’ll be the first to defend that statement. I’ve done some questionable things over the past three months. Regardless, I actually do have a strong sense of right and wrong. It might take some digging to find sometimes, but it’s there, especially when it comes to adults and how they should behave.

So, I’m not perfect. I freely admit that.

And my best friend, the psycho wrestler … Oh, man, he is definitely not perfect.

As for his twin sister, the girl I currently love and always will, she’s actually pretty close to perfect, but not quite.

Here’s the thing: the three of us, we’re only seventeen. Seventeen! I’d say that gives us a good excuse for messing up every now and then.

But what about all of the adults behaving badly in Blaine? You’re about to meet them. What’s their excuse? I mean, I always thought part of life involved growing up at some point, getting your act together, and trying to live more responsibly than you did when you were … oh, I don’t know … say … seventeen? But that’s not the way it is, at least not in Blaine. I know that now. I wish I didn’t, but I do.

So I’ll end this beginning with a confession followed by a question.

The confession: given everything I’ve been through, if I had the chance to go back and play this thing through a second time, I might have thought twice before accepting that first fifty dollars from Huey Dawkins.

The big question: who are you supposed to look up to when it seems like every adult you know is more screwed up than yourself?

I’m still struggling with that one.

June

Chapter_2

2

Let’s rewind three months.