And just as I was about to imagine him in just those briefs he spoke up. “Do you get high?” “What?” I had heard him but just the mention of ge...ting high, of breaking the law, well it made me perk up and I looked around. Was this some kind of setup? Was he undercover, a snitch? I looked him the eyes and tried to determine just how real the offer was and then if I wanted to do it. I wanted to do it. But I was also afraid. Cops, my parents, and just the thought of breaking the law made me feel. He did, of course. He had put his plate down on the picnic table directly across from where she sat, squeezing in between two of her younger cousins for the vantage point, or so she guessed. The car had slowed down, passing through another small town and the tree-shaded streets were a welcome relief to the hot sun streaming in her window. After passing rows of old Victorian houses for several blocks, she saw three cute boys on bicycles staring at her from a driveway ahead as she leaned both. More

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