Cold Turkey - highschool fiction writing

I wake up in the middle of the night once again, sweating my ass off. It’s not the first time either. Goddamn it. My sleeping problems are bad enough already, why the hell does my dumb ass mother have to turn the heat up 200 degrees every night she doesn’t shoot up. She wouldn’t get the stupid cold chills if she never started in the first place. It doesn’t mean I don’t love her or anything. I do. I mean, she can be a good person sometimes, but when my feet and hands are blanketed in sweat I can’t help but think she’s crazy. I’m only getting hotter just thinking about it. Seriously, she always cranks up the heat when she goes ‘cold turkey.’ I tell her it’s not going to make a difference in hell, but she doesn’t listen. She never listens.
I can’t escape this heat inside and I know sleeping won’t come tonight so the only thing I can do is leave. Jane is still awake, there is no way anybody can sleep in this heat. But I don’t care; I just need to get out. I live in a one story house, so sneaking out of it is just about the easiest thing in the world. We don’t have the money for those noisy window screens, and if we did, Jane would never get around to putting them in. I bet even if we did have the money for those stupid screens, Jane would spend it on “better things,” like I don’t know what she’s talking about or something. Better my ass. Anyway, I called up my best friend James and told him to meet me at the barn. He’s one of those people who don’t really sleep. You know. It’s not like they don’t want to or anything, they just can’t. Like they don’t know how to or something. He just stays up all night and draws. I’m not like that; I’m not much good at sleeping, but don’t go thinking I don’t know how.
It’s the middle of the summer and as you know the nights in the summer are always the perfect temperature. So I just pull on a pair of shorts and an old t-shirt and I’m ready. We found this beat up barn in the woods at the beginning of the summer. I guess the people who owned it died or something and forgot to leave the barn to anyone. No one really knows for sure, but it’s a cool place to hang out, and we have it all to ourselves. The walk isn’t too bad either, just like ten minutes is all. I sat in front of the big barn door and waited for James to show up; he’s always late. But he finally did and he was yellin’ about something.
“Yo man! Your Old Lady is screamin’ her smacked out head off again! Hahaha.” He laughed for about a minute straight. He always makes fun of Jane like that. He thinks it’s hilarious. “She’s pullin’ the old cold turkey again huh!?” he asked. Yeah, he gets a real kick out of her addiction. “Like that’s ever gonna work!”
“Yeah, you’re real funny James.” I wasn’t mad or anything, he’s my best friend and all. James rolled a joint, sparked it, inhaled, then passed it to me. We smoke a lot of pot. Not many other kids at my school smoke or anything, just me and James and a couple others. We smoke just about every day. A lot of kids at school joke around and call us pot heads, but we don’t really care or anything. Smoking is just what we do. I’ve gotten drunk a couple of times I guess. One time, James’ older brother Donny, who’s a big coke head, bought us a handle of vodka. I mean we never do coke or anything, but we drank the vodka with some older girls in the barn. It wasn’t really a big deal or anything. I mean, we didn’t think it was a big deal at all.
We were sitting in the barn for about a half hour when my dime-store cell phone rings. It was loud as hell and scared me hard core. Who the hell would be calling me this late? I thought it was maybe one of those girls I met last weekend who was old enough to drive. A group of them wanted my number and they were all giggly when they asked me for it. I got all excited for a minute, but I was chill, and answered the phone in a deep voice.
“Dirk! Where in the hell are you?!” It was stupid Jane. Since when did she ever go in my room? She hardly ever steps foot in there. She went on for a while, yelling things I couldn’t really understand. “If you’re not home in five minutes I’m gonna kick your ass!” She’s not really going to kick my ass. I mean, she says that all the time but we both know that she’s too weak, and I’m too quick. But she says it all the time anyways, like I’m supposed to be scared of her. She went on cursing at me for a while, but I don’t want to offend anyone. She can get real nasty with her words. It’s so annoying.
I walk home and think about what my mom was saying. God damn, I hate it when she gets like this. I’m getting hot as hell and my head starts to pound. I clench my hands into fists and feel they’re all gross and sweaty and I start walking faster, even though I don’t want to get home in any hurry. My mind is still fuzzy from that joint I smoked with James and I’m walking so fast and not thinking about where I’m going. So I run into this stupid tree. It was such a bitch. It was in my way so I started punching it. I punched the hell out of it for a little while, until my hands and arms got bloody and sore. I wish I could have kept going but my hands hurt too bad. I could have if I wanted to, but it was just a tree, so it’s not like I cared.
I get to the front door of our ugly little house and Jane pulls me in by my stupid cut hand. I yell a little and try to pull away. I keep pulling until I see that god damned belt around the top of her arm. No wonder she’s awake, that stupid junkie; so much for cold turkey. Her saggy gray skin is damp from the heat and her bulging veins look like they’re about to collapse. Collapsed veins were something that dumb doctor said would happen to her if she kept using that god damned smack. I shuffle around the house, trying to tune out what she’s yelling about now. Something about this damn heat. “DIRK! Why you turn the heat up so high like that?! You stupid or somethin’? We gonna die in the hell hole just you wait and see…” She rambles on until she falls asleep with her mouth hanging open on our nasty couch in the den, the belt still around her arm, the empty syringe on the beat up coffee table. Damn. At least she’s done hollering. I can’t take it sometimes, and I’m still not a bit tired. I better turn down the heat and bring the fan out of my room so Jane doesn’t wake up yelling again. I sure hope James is still at the barn, ‘cause there ain’t no way I’m staying in this place.