“Drugs. Local high schools – and middle schools as well – are riddled with a new drug that's been sweeping across Southern California.”
“What are we talking here, Sam? Simple pot, or cocaine, or is it something as bad as meth or heroin?” the talk show host questioned.
“While those remain problem drugs not only here but across the entire United States, what we've got here is something entirely new. The kids are calling it Rocket because it gets you very high very quickly. We're fairly confident it's being cooked up in a mobile lab out in the desert or perhaps up in the mountains, as distribution seems to be limited to Southern California. Although, it's starting to spread to other parts of California, and it won't be long before it crosses state lines and makes its way into other states.”
“Tell us more about the drug itself,” Arthur urged. “What does it look like? What effect does it have? Who's using it? What are the dangers?”
“Well, Arthur. It's a blue powder, and what makes it dangerous is how quickly it's absorbed by the body – hence the name Rocket. You don't have to snort it; you can ingest it in all sorts of ways. It's tasteless, so it can just be mixed into soda and drank. The effects, which kick in within a minute or two, are feelings of euphoria, extremely lowered inhibitions, mild hallucinations and slowed reflexes and motor skills. The side effects are terrible, though. Not only does it create intense cravings for more – which, of course, leads to addiction – it physically eats away the insides of the user. It's highly acidic in nature, and contains a number of extremely harmful substances that should not, under any circumstances, be inside the human body.”
“Gosh, that sounds terrifying! How widespread is the use and distribution of this drug?”
“Like I said, it's worming its way into all of the local high schools, and—”
I switched stations. Teenage drug use was far too depressing to think about. With kids as young as junior high students getting into this sort of stuff, I couldn't help but wonder what was wrong with the world. I couldn't bear to think of the kids at my daycare getting into this sort of stuff in a few years when some of them headed to middle school. I'd always had a great fondness for kids, and I really loved the little tykes at my daycare, even if they could be something of a handful sometimes.
I pulled into the parking lot of the local grocer and went in to pick up a few items I needed. After a quick trip down the aisles, I went and stood in line at a register. It appeared that only two checkout counters were working. I took out my phone to check up on Facebook, but before I could, a familiar voice interrupted me.
“Vivienne Andrews, how lovely to see you!”
I knew the voice at once. My neighbor, Mrs. Joan Dobbins — a sweet older lady who did little else but sit on her porch with her Maltese poodle, Fluffy, and observe the comings and goings of our neighborhood from sunrise to sunset and often beyond.
“Hi, Mrs. Dobbins,” I said with a smile. “It's nice to see you, too.”
“I love what you've done with your hair. It's still nice and long, but it looks so stylish now! And you've always had the loveliest blonde hair.”
“Thank you,” I said with an appreciative smile. “I just had it layered and textured a little. I've always liked this length, just down around my shoulder blades.”
“It really does suit you. I couldn't stand having long hair myself, but my old Frank, bless his heart, he loved my long hair when I was young, so I kept it long for him. When he passed 22 years ago, though, the first thing I did was cut it, and it's been short ever since!”
I laughed politely – it wasn't the first time I'd heard that story.
“I don't think I'll cut mine anytime soon,” I said, hoping that the line would move a little faster. Mrs. Dobbins was nice enough, but she could talk until she was blue in the face and you were too.
“You shouldn't cut it, dear; you look absolutely stunning. Why, I don't know why some man hasn't come and swept you off your feet yet. They must be beating down your door.”
“I wouldn’t say that,” I mumbled, not wanting to get on the topic with her. Like her story, it wasn’t the first time. “I'm just so busy with the daycare, and I've got those repairs to take care of around the house—”
She cut me off. “And that's why you need a good man by your side, Vivienne!”
I chuckled, somewhat uncomfortably. “I guess so,” I mumbled. Why wasn't this line moving?
“Speaking of men, there's a new fellow that moved in across the road from us this past weekend while you were out of town.”
That piqued my interest. The house across the street had been empty for months.
“Really? The Sanchez place?”
“That's right – someone's finally bought it. And I tell you what, between you and me, he's quite a looker! You should go say hello to him. Maybe bake him a pie. You know, offer a good neighborly welcome,” she said with a wink and a smile.
I laughed. “I thought you said you wanted me to welcome him to the neighborhood. You’ve obviously never eaten any pie I’ve tried to bake,” I smiled at her.
“Well, how about I bake the pie for you, and then you go across the street and give it to him?”
I laughed. “We'll see about that. So, I know you have the scoop. What’s his story?”
“He's the new principal of that high school three blocks away, what's it called again?” she asked.
“JFK High.”