Chapter 1

"This weekend is going to be great!" I said as we drove up I-95 to Maine.

"Yeah, man! I heard they have killer weed here, because it's technically an Indian reservation."

Life was good. I just got my Senior drivers license, so the 1995 Volvo 850 was mine. Its not a nice car, but I was happy to have it. And with my parents out of town at a Hotel convention, it was time for a road trip. So I was headed upstate with my three best friends to an Indian reservation to get some killer weed.

I was seventeen, had blond hair, and was six foot four, but not muscular. Don't get me wrong, I was sturdy, I just wasn't in the best shape I could be. I was clearly taller than all my friends. Sarah, riding shotgun, was about five six, with dark brown hair and a C cup. She was sort of a tom-boy, really into sports and basically one of the guys.

Wakefield was in the back, already rolling a joint. Although his first name was Alfred, everybody called him Wakefield. Since the time I met him (in ninth grade) he has always been ready with a joint. He was always average height, but with his recent growth spurt he weighed in at 5 foot 10, 160 pounds. He has been working out for a couple of years now, and strangely the smoking hasn't affected his lungs at all.

The drive was only five hours, but because I was the only one who had a license I drove the entire way. It was worth it though, because the reservation was awesome.

You wouldn't know it from the outside, but a couple miles inside Blackwater (the name of the reservation) the east coast's largest supply of grade-A marijuana was being grown.

"I think I died and went to heaven." Wakefield was clearly overwhelmed by the sight, and, more noticeable, the smell.

"Ha. We'll have time to go picking later, but for now lets make sure we have a place to sleep tonight." Sarah was always the more level-headed of the three of us, and was able to quickly secure a room at the reservation inn.

Once we were checked in, we visited the fields. I've always been drawn to the country, and loved walking barefoot anywhere outside, so I kicked off my flip-flops and headed into the fields with Sarah and Wakefield.

"This has got to be great quality." Wakefield said as he picked a bud off a nearby plant.

"Hey, don't pick too much. I don't want to get us kicked out of here."

Thankfully, Wakefield stopped after Sarah's remark, because a couple minutes later we ran across some reservation police.

"You kids keep your hands off the plants, okay? This shit wont be ready until July, so if you want the good stuff, visit the guest shop on the way out."

"Yes, sir. We wont touch the plants." The last thing I wanted was for us to get kicked out of the reservation already. It was starting to get late, and I didn't want to drive all the way home at night.

After walking through the fields for another hour we decided to get back to town and head to the room at the Inn. We were tired from the long drive upstate and wanted to be well-rested for the next day.