[ 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 ]	. . . . I got off easy, it could have been worse. I never got involved with the police. When you’re smoking it, the only consequences you think about are getting caught by your parents or a teacher; not the police. My brother got off easy too, but he still had it worse than me. When he got caught with a few ounces in his locker, they called the cops and he sat up in juvi’ for a night or two. They pleaded his attempt to sell charge to a misdemeanor possession and he just had to do community service. Believe me, my parents made him wish he was locked up, but he was still better off. Now, he was a well off white boy from the north shore. Some of my other friends had it a little harder. No one thinks that you can get sent up for having a couple blunts. But I knew people that proved that theory wrong. Marcus and I got pulled over for speeding down Lake Shore Drive. I let out a frustrated sigh at the sight of flashing lights in my rearview and pulled over to the side of the road. I didn’t think it was a big deal. A ticket, a court date, and that would be it. But Marcus thought differently. “You don’t get it Dana,” he said sinking down in his seat, “I’m a Black man riding in a car with a White woman.” “You’re just being paranoid.” I replied, fishing through the glove compartment for my insurance card. The cop came around and tapped on the closed window with one hand, resting his palm on the butt of his holstered gun with the other. I rolled down the window and handed him my license and insurance card. “Where are you headed in such a hurry?” the officer asked poking his thin face through the open window. “Just driving a friend home,” I replied. “You know this man?” I never had a good poker face, so I knew the cop saw the astonishment and irritability on my face. What? Did he think that Marcus had kidnapped me and forced him to drive him home? Asshole. “ID please,” the officer motioned to Marcus. Marcus handed it over and the officer studied it; harder than he had studied mine. “73rd huh?”