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by Jina Bacarr
Category: Young Adult
Description: What if your best bud OD'd on drugs? What if his ghost told you that YOU were next? Heroin is no longer the vice of the inner city. Drug abuse is rampant in the suburbs. Take Dean Summers. He's seventeen, a high school senior, an athlete, and an A student. He's also a drug user: chiva (black tar heroin), crystal meth, and bud.
eBook Publisher: Awe-Struck E-Books, 2002
eBookwise Release Date: October 2002
2 Reader Ratings:
Available eBook Formats: OEBFF Format (IMP) [250 KB]
Reading time: 163-228 min.
"I like to sit on a book awhile after I have read it. Let it digest in my mind and see after several days if it creeps back up into my thoughts. Some do, some don't! Chiva is one of the ones that do! Unlike any other book that I have read, Chiva has left a permanent mark on my soul.... This book is a must read for all young people and certainly would not hurt any person who has a young one in their lives that they love."--Shirley Johnson, MidWest Reviews
"You blow snow, kid?" he asks me.
"Yeah, sure," I say, not looking at Michelle, knowing she'll send me bad vibes.
"How 'bout your chick?" Big Spender says, salivating as he checks out Michelle huddling between us. She shoots him a dirty look. She's not diggin' this convo. "Does she char herb?"
Michelle opens her mouth to say something, but I nudge her to keep quiet.
"She's not into drugs," I answer for her, suddenly feeling all protective toward her. I feel responsible for her, seeing how Michelle only came along on this trip to keep me company. And now this happens. If this guy makes a move toward her, I'll bust him.
Then this dude gets real pushy, pulling out more chronic and throwing the baggie into Michelle's lap. She freezes.
"Sure your chick won't have some?" he asks.
I toss the baggie back to him. "Like I said, dude, she's not into drugs."
He laughs and I wonder what else he's got on his mind as we head down the freeway, his big rig picking up speed. What am I gonna do? I've got to stay cool, keep this dude from getting any ideas about Michelle. I don't like the way he keeps brushing his hand across her knee. She looks like she's ready to send him coasting. I grab her hand, squeeze it. That calms her down.
"You two heading on down to Mexico?" Big Spender asks, cutting a rail of coke with a steady hand as we drive along the straight-away. My eyes bug out at the sight of the white powder, but I'm not gonna touch it. I swear.
"M--mexico?" I say, staring at the white snow on the tray, licking my lips, sniffing. "Yeah, we'll probably cruise on down."
Michelle freaks when she hears me say that. She lets out a big sigh. I know she's not into any of this, but what can I do? We're stuck with this dude until he makes a pit stop.
"I know a couple of guys across the border who can set you two up with peyote," he offers. "Real cheap."
"Yeah? Cool. We'll look 'em up," I answer, as I feel the truck slowing down, then swerve to the right as Big Spender snorts up the coke. White dust blows from his nostrils and the whole cab shakes. Oh man, I've never seen anything like it.
"Your turn, kid," he says, pushing the silver tray with the happy dust toward me.
"Don't touch it, Dean," Michelle says, her voice ringing out loud and clear for the first time in this convo.
Paranoia grips me like the coils of a rattler. What am I gonna do? If I don't sniff the coke, who knows what this dude will do next. If I do, I'm bummed and we both know it.