My family consists of my two parents, my father (an administrator at work and at home), sets down rules and gives praise when warranted, and my mother, an immunologist and union representative, much like a cheerleader with a firm bottom line. I have one older sister, who has always been around for her little brother and very successful in her work life. Finally my last and younger sister could pass for my twin. She is full of love and not afraid to show emotion. If I am honest, she is the most successful in her work life. This introduction to my family is very short and lacking in information. I will elaborate more as it applies to the story. It should be enough to get us started.

The year I went from middle school to high school, I was fourteen years old. I had two friends that lived close to me. One of the two got some pot, and I had my first experience with illegal drugs. I remember feeling very nervous, but more so excited about the thought of trying this substance I thought was so cool from movies and TV shows from my generation. We smoked the stuff in my father's garage that was attached to the house through the door the whole family uses to go in and out of the house. Both of my friends left soon after.

The pot does something funny to a new user. It immediately makes you paranoid; thinking that Mom, Dad, or even the police will know what you have done. This feeling lessens as you build a tolerance to the drug. So my first experience was like an adventure—changing my shirt, throwing away the one I was wearing to hide the smell. I washed my face at least three times. About this time my mother and father pulled up together in the very garage we had been smoking in earlier. My father immediately smelled the weed and walked up to me and said, "You better never smoke that stuff at my house again." With that, he let the issue pass.

I was happy about that due to the fact that I was reeling from my first joint ever. From there I was off to the races, as they say. At the end of each school day, instead of our normal bike riding and fishing, my friends and I would be smoking. First we had enough weed and time to smoke the weed before our parents returned home from work. This was the first change in my life for the sake of drugs. I don't think that this particular change in my life was so significant, being that I forsook riding my bike and roller skating for hiding in the woods and smoking very small joints. But it's the behavior of accepting the drug as fun or adventurous, and then—this is the worst part—successfully hiding the drug. I don't mean hiding it in my room or in the bushes; what I mean is much more dangerous. And what I believe is the biggest problem for me and will be your biggest problem, is spotting drug use in your child or loved one—especially if your child is personable or well spoken. No, the hiding that I speak of is the ability to consume the drug and maintain life as if nothing is going on. This is my biggest problem, I believe. Given, at the age of fourteen, there are not many responsibilities to maintain.

But as you will see, as the story and my drug life progresses, maintaining a good outward appearance and well-mannered behavior will hide drug use for many years before it catches up to the user. Problem is, by then, the user may be sitting in a jail cell or worse.

The summer seemed to go very quickly. All I did was pretend to go fishing or riding bikes on the trail. Next on my young agenda was high school, nervous as I was about girls and bigger bullies. When a child leaves middle school, he or she is the biggest dog on the block. But on that the first day of high school, I was in another world. There were so many different types of people. Of course my buddies from middle school were there. As luck had it, one of them even was old enough to drive now, as he was kept back a grade at a younger age.

Looking back, I must have looked nervous walking through the high school hallways as a freshman. Sports are what made me feel like a part of my high school; I had always been athletically inclined. Baseball and soccer filled my youth every season at County Recreation Ball. When soccer season started, I met some new friends on my team. For some reason I gravitated to friends with similar interests, such as pot and my newfound adventure—Adderall pills—that one of my childhood friends was prescribed. Snorting these pills was all the rage when I was in high school. They gave me the feeling of being super alert, or having lots of energy with the ability to concentrate.

My friend who was able to drive, of course, drove me to and from school on the days I did not have soccer practice. This allowed me, for the first time in my life, to meet up with friends whose houses I could not walk to. We would meet at the local lake, where we would smoke pot and have the occasional beer instead of going to class. I would keep my skipping school to days that I did not have soccer practice. I was able to cover up the smell and use eye drops to keep my eyes from being red. I have always been good at talking to anybody about mostly anything. Making people laugh and being respectful of others has always afforded me the ability to fly under the radar.

As my freshman year ended, I got to be rather good at using pot and Adderall pills, all the while keeping my grades in check and my attendance under the radar. As you will see in chapter two, in the beginning of my sophomore year in high school, this began to change.

Slowly, these will be warning signs in your children that something is amiss.

You have to understand that, seeing me day to day, I had a smile on my face. I dressed very nicely, ran with the popular kids in my class, and always had at least a passable girlfriend.

This is going to be the problem—when I am in your face, you will be convinced everything is fine. What you have to look at is the pattern of grades and attendance with your child in school.

Our son was one of the best-dressed kids in school. We all found him to be a little over the top with his clothes. He was always ironing his pants, which was part of his disguise. He was also a standup comedian. The only problem we saw was that he loved hanging out with his friends and hated schoolwork. I attributed that behavior to the difference between girls and boys. At this time I did not see warning signs or bizarre behavior. His friends all seemed to have decent parents and home lives. I thought I was a good judge of character.If your kids dress nicely and have a good home life, you must be okay people. I thought the kids that looked like hoodlums must be hoodlums. As it turned out, I was worried about the wrong crowd. Never judge a book by its cover.

As I waited for my second year of high school to begin, I was excited and less nervous than my freshman year. It seemed like I had everything to look forward to and nothing to fear. I seemed like no matter what extracurricular activities I got myself involved in (i.e., drugs), I was able to maintain good grades and attendance. Looking back, the passable attendance was due to the fact that I was unable to drive to school until my junior year. This did not stop me from occasionally skipping school to partake in volleyball at the lake or just go back to my house as both my parents would be at work.

My sophomore year was the first time I started to see negative effects from drug use in my life. Looking back it would be all too obvious to spot something that was amiss. The most obvious effect was my attendance dropped, but not so much that it set off any alarms. But I got more comfortable missing a day here and there with no negative effects. Greed set in. My father noticed that my perfect attendance fell to one or two days a week of missing in action. With this, grades will eventually drop off. Not that the effects of some pot and the occasional Adderall pill made me dumber, but missing a day a week caused me to miss test days or the review day for the test. My teachers began to have concerns and contacted my parents.

The jig was up, as they say. Being a very personable young man, I told my parents that one of my new friends and I were going to the lake and playing volleyball. You know, physical activity, bonding, new high school type stuff, most of which was true or at least felt true. The rest, I just left out about the drug use and the drinking. One day that stuck out in my mind the most was when I set out for school with a friend, and we literally rode through the parking lot, just giving my parents enough time to get to work. Before the first period bell rang, my teacher had a note to contact my dad to alert him to my absence. He wasn't at work yet, and I was already back at home smoking a joint. I had made myself a bowl of cereal and left the box out on the counter.

I was upstairs in my bedroom when I heard the distinctive three beeps of our home alarm. I knew right away I was busted. I knew in my mind that dealing with this now would not be in my best interests, as I was reeling from my early morning joint. I quickly hid under my bed. I heard my dad's disapproving tone as he made his way up our staircase. He must have yelled for me to come out for ten minutes. I lay still, like we were playing hide-and-seek, like we used to in the yard at night. Much to my surprise, he left, most likely because he had never made it to work and was already late. It was a small victory that only lasted until he got home from work that evening and promptly grounded me from riding to school with friends.

I'm still not sure why I thought I could skip school that day and have nobody notice. I just was not giving my normal amount of thought to cover myself. My thoughts were on making sure I had enough pot to smoke and the more difficult task of seeking a private location to first partake and then to cover up the smell, the red eyes, and the nervous behavior. Still, I managed to maintain a B average and keep myself out of any major attendance problems. From the outside looking in, I was always well dressed, wore a big smile, was easy to talk to, kept my wits about me, and had an easygoing attitude. This easily masked otherwise obvious changes in my behavior.

I mean, the evidence was there, but when you live with someone day to day who is taking steps to assure you with his or her outward appearance and personality, it becomes harder to see. Day to day, nothing is being thrown in your face that something is wrong. Instead, you see the overall big picture. For example, "absences" that are not there before or grades that are lower than usual. However, as a sophomore, my grades were still descent, and I still played school sports. Couple that with the fact that I did not yet have a driver's license, and nothing really jumped out enough to set off any alarms. This would soon change once I acquired every child's dream—a driver's license.

My husband is more strict, more sensible than I am; he spent some time in the military so ... these "rules" that he wants everybody to live by did not exactly work out for our son's then new truancy issues. Smoking a little pot with the kids at school might have been more acceptable than missing a day of education. However, who hasn't skipped school now and then? I did it.

My husband and I did all the things parents do when a child skips school. We made him ride the bus and restricted his favorite activities and threatened not to let him drive when he got his license. We had dealt with a similar situation with our oldest daughter, and the restrictions worked on her. Our son seemed appropriately humbled by the punishments. However, I must confess after a few days of it, he charmed me into letting him off. I doubt my weakness had little to do with eventual heroin use. I do wonder if I should have practiced tougher love, even for minor infractions.

The ultimate freedom! The driver's license! My birthday fell at the beginning of summer, putting me younger than my classmates. As my sophomore year ended, my dad got me a Ford Bronco II. That summer, I got my first job at BI-LO grocery. I bagged groceries and cleaned the bathrooms at the end of the day. I made employee of the month my first month on the job. I was fired the next month for stealing a large bag of candy. I know that is not the most flattering note, but that is certainly not the most embarrassing part of my life I will share.

With my well-groomed looks and versed vocabulary, I walked across the street and got a job the same day at a pizza store. My manager was a very attractive girl. I decided right away that we should be more than friends. By the third week, I found that I had a unique skill. I could throw pizza in the air like the New York style pizza shops. Anyway, one night, we were the last two people in the shop, and I was helping her close the store. I was cleaning the topping line, and she was standing behind me cleaning the oven. Our backs touched and we did not pull away. We stood there for a moment.

I am telling you this because I was on cloud nine—nervous but excited. Only my new ride and drugs gave me anything close to this feeling. After that, I clocked out and politely said good-bye and left. On the way home, I thought about how to handle this situation. I called and asked if she was okay because she was the last one there for the night. That was it. The next day, I called and asked her to come over and help me study some math problems to help me prepare for next year's classes.

My parents have always been very supportive of my sisters and me. My mother takes our happiness just as seriously as our success. She is of the opinion that what's the point if you are miserable. My parents thought that an older girlfriend taking my time was still better than me running the streets with my new high school friends. It seemed like all I got from those friends were habits my parents did not approve of. Before the summer was over, my new girlfriend had moved in with my family.

As the next school year started, I finally had my own ride. I went to school early each day to show off my new ride. As soon as that wore off, I was back to skipping school with my friends. Soccer tryouts were during the second semester. I made the first practice and noticed we had a new coach; he was my old middle school coach. I knew I was a sure thing for the season. At the beginning of the second practice, he pulled me to the side and told me that I was unable to play due to me missing too many days of school.

To me, this was the first serious impact of my drug use. I mean, this one hurt. I immediately started looking for that feel-good feeling that I got from my girlfriend, but she was back in school for something or other at the time, so I decided to use my newfound freedom to get high with my friends. I got comfortable with my truancy issues, and before the end of the school year, I was suspended indefinitely. I was given the opportunity to attend a school for those who cannot follow the rules. The school was an alternative school. This is where I had the opportunity to meet all the other kids who seemed to have similar interests in drugs. Thanks for that!

This was where I was introduced to ecstasy. My girlfriend liked to dance, and my being well under twenty-one left us with few choices for late-night dance spots. At this time, raves became popular in town. A new friend and I hung out a lot, and this is where I would spend evenings when my girlfriend was in school. My girl had another friend she would spend time with. One night we all went out to a rave party at the abandoned local mall. The two of them hit it off instantly and we were set. Her friend and my friend began to date.

We went to the rave parties every other weekend—even one as far as two states away. Our drug of choice at this moment was ecstasy. The effect of this drug is an overall feeling of euphoria. It raises your body temp and makes you see things that are not really there and keeps you awake all night. This would leave me very tired and half-asleep for classes on Monday. This, combined with the weekly trip to the lake instead of school, would leave my grades worse than ever. So, to sum up my senior year, I had a really sweet girlfriend, a new car to drive to school, a new drug to add to my arsenal, the worst grades and attendance record ever, and I was attending alternative school. The only thing I felt the need to keep up was my appearance. If you were to speak to me, you would never suspect anything was going wrong. My parents always made sure I was well provided for, so I never felt the effects of my behavior.