The smell of weed mixed with mildew permeated the small room Leo called his corner of the orphanage. The bed was hard, the blanket too thin for Chicago's biting cold, and the single flickering light bulb above made the room feel like a prison cell. Still, he was grateful for it. It was better than the streets.
Leo sat cross-legged on his bed, rolling a joint with practiced ease. His fingers moved quickly, a result of weeks of repetition. He held it up, examining his work with a critical eye, then lit it, inhaling deeply. The smoke filled his lungs, and for a moment, the tight knot of anxiety in his chest loosened. He leaned back, blowing the smoke toward the ceiling.
"I'm fine." he lied to himself. "I've got this under control."
But he didn't. Not even close.
Leo shoved a few plastic bags into his backpack, careful to zip it up tight. The small packets of powder and pills were the only thing keeping him afloat, but he hated how far he'd fallen. Every time he touched them, he thought about his mother. How disappointed she would be if she saw him now.
He swung the bag over his shoulder and stepped out into the chaos of the orphanage. Kids were running through the halls, shouting and laughing, but their joy felt distant to him. He walked toward the exit, weaving through the commotion.
"Yo, Leo!" a kid called out. It was Jamal, a scrappy 12-year-old who looked up to Malcolm and, by extension, Leo. "You gonna come play ball with us later?"
Leo forced a smile, the goofy mask he wore so well slipping into place. "Nah, little man. I got... uh... errands to run. Maybe next time."
Jamal's face fell, but he nodded. "Aight. You be careful, though. Malcolm wouldn't want you getting into trouble."
The mention of Malcolm sent a pang through Leo's chest. He gave Jamal a quick salute. "Trouble? Me? Never."
The moment Leo stepped into the public school, the energy hit him like a wave. Fights broke out in the hallways, kids openly smoked in the bathrooms, and the teachers barely looked up from their desks. It was survival of the fittest, and Leo had adapted quickly.
Walking to his locker, he noticed a group of kids eyeing him. They weren't his friends, but they weren't enemies either—not yet, anyway. Leo made it a point to keep things neutral. He gave them a nod and a grin as he passed, his mask firmly in place.
Inside his locker, he pulled out a textbook that hadn't been opened since he got it. Hidden behind it were a few more packets, neatly tucked away. He slid one into his pocket before closing the locker and heading toward the bathrooms.
The bathroom reeked of urine and cheap cologne, but it was the only place in school where no one paid attention to what you were doing. Leo leaned against the sink, waiting for his "client."
A tall, white lanky kid named Marcus walked in, looking around nervously. "You got the stuff?" he whispered.
Leo smirked, pulling the packet from his pocket. "You got the cash?"
Marcus handed over a crumpled wad of bills, and Leo passed him the packet. "Pleasure doing business with you." Leo said, his tone light, almost mocking.
Marcus hesitated before leaving. "You ever worry about... you know... getting caught?"
Leo shrugged, taking a drag from the joint he'd lit earlier. "Caught? Nah. Life's already got me in a chokehold, bro. What's one more pair of hands squeezing?"
After school, Leo met up with Daniel in the alley behind a corner store. Daniel was one of the few people Leo trusted enough to share the truth with. The two sat on a crate, splitting a cheap sandwich Daniel had brought.
"Leo, you can't keep doing this." Daniel said, his voice low but firm.
Leo laughed, though it sounded hollow. "Do what, Southie? Make a living? Keep a roof over my head?"
"You know what I mean." Daniel shot back. "Selling this... this crap. It's not you."
Leo's grin faded, and for a moment, the mask slipped. "Not me? Who even am I anymore, huh? My mom's gone. I'm living in a place where kids cry themselves to sleep every night. And you know what's worse? I don't even cry anymore. I'm just... numb."
Daniel didn't respond immediately, his silence heavy. Finally, he said, "You don't have to go through this alone. Sterlin—"
"Don't." Leo interrupted sharply. "He doesn't need to know. Sterlin's got his own shit to deal with. He's at that fancy school, living the dream. Let him have that."
Daniel frowned but didn't argue. He knew Leo wouldn't budge.
That night, back in his room, Leo sat on his bed, staring at a picture of his mom he kept in his wallet. She was smiling, her arms wrapped around him during one of their better days.
"I'm sorry, Ma." he whispered, his voice cracking. "I'm trying... I swear I'm trying."
He reached for his joint but stopped, his hand hovering over it. For the first time in weeks, he didn't light it. Instead, he lay back on the bed, clutching the picture tightly.
The weight of the day pressed down on him, but as he drifted off to sleep, he made a silent promise to himself. He didn't know how or when, but he would find a way out of this mess. For his mom. For himself. For the chance to be the person he pretended to be.