The Bag of Weed

The Bag of Weed

"Come on, it's just one hit, no one will ever find out." We all gathered around the pipe, anxiously awaiting our turn. It was 1:00 in the morning and everyone was asleep, including the dean, or so we thought.

Earlier that morning, a friend came up to me excitedly announcing her purchase. She had gotten a bag of weed. I showed a look of approval, not quite caring or knowing what was ahead. I soon would be part of that deal, but at a much higher price.

After the evening activities, we all piled back into the dorm and started heading to each other's rooms. It was a Friday night, and it was nearly impossible to go to bed before 12:00. As our group of friends all sat there, the idea of getting stoned got thrown into the pot. Being at a Christian school, not very many of us had ever done that before, especially not in the dorm. "There's a first time for everything," one of the girls piped in. We all agreed it would be fun, but knew the consequences if we were to get caught. After contemplating it all, we decided to at least wait until 1:00, when everyone started going to bed.

The time passed quickly as we discussed our plan. We would make a pipe out of an empty pop can, put towels under the door to help stop the smoke from leaking out, and turned on the fan by the window so it would help blow the smoke out. We definitely had it all figured out. The weed was brought out, and placed ever so carefully on the can. We passed it around, and one hit turned into two and two into four. By that time we were all laughing hysterically, obviously needing nothing to laugh at.

After we put the weed away, we sat there laughing, joking, eating and just having fun, thinking we were good to go. Minutes later, a knock came at the door, making each of our heart beats come to a halting stop. As the door opened, the dean appeared like a ghost in the night and we all knew we were busted.

"Where's the cigarettes?" she asked. We all sat there, looking dumbfounded, and wishing it were only cigarettes because the consequences for that were less severe. She stood at the door for a few minutes, staring at us with a look of complete disappointment on her face, before walking out the door, shutting it behind her.

With that, we all broke into a laughter, not knowing the worse was still to come.

Minutes later, the dean returned with her assistant, and announced that she knew it was marijuana, not cigarettes. After questioning the whereabouts of the rest of the weed and not getting the answers they were looking for, she decided to separate us and do a little interrogating for herself.

As I sat in my room, thoughts poured through my head of consequences, lies, my parents, how many people I've let down, but most