weed.”
I smile. “Hey.” I’m buzzed already. I hope I don’t end up puking tonight.
Frank hands me some pot and papers. “Roll one, brah?”
“Uh, sure.” I can’t believe how cool this world is. Guys hug each other. People just hand you pot. Everyone’s drunk and cool and old enough to do what they want to do. I wanna grow up so bad. “Smells like good shit.” I hope they think I know what I’m talking about.
Clay smiles approvingly and goes off upstairs with Frank, to do more coke, I think.
I sit down and try to seem high and out of it, so I don’t have to talk to any strangers. I’m horrible at it. I lose my personality completely when I’m forced to be entertaining or interesting. I don’t think these dudes, except for Clay, would like me if they really knew me. I write haiku. I don’t surf. I hate the sun.
They think I’m like Clay because he brought me. They think guys who think like I do are fags.
“Little Sammy turned into a joint-rolling slave,” a girl’s voice says. Someone taps my shoulder.
I flinch and look up.
It’s Kendra. Jared’s sister. She looks older and cool, sort of relaxed in a totally mellow way.
Instantly, I remember lip-synching fake Joni Mitchell concerts in her bedroom, baking cookies with rum and vodka and anything else we could find to put in them. One New Year’s Eve, when we stole liquor from her parents, we shot off a huge M-80 Super-Rocket and it misfired and burnt down her shed. They’re all embarrassing things in the context being at this party. Majorly lightweight shit. I smile. My stomach’s flying.
She leans down to hug me but someone calls her to the kitchen. “Hold on, Sammy. I really want to talk to you.” Her hair tickles my face.
Her gardenia perfume brings back another time like magic.
I was waiting for Jared in his room. He was in his family’s living room, being yelled at by his parents. We’d made too much noise the night before camping in a tent in his backyard. We were playing strip poker with this weird girl, Lisa, from down the street. I was getting pretty turned on or whatever the day before because Jared had this calendar with surfers on it up on the wall and I couldn’t stop looking at it as we were watching horror movies and talking about where to get pot or beer. When he left the room, I locked the door and found this movie I knew called Space Camp . I fast-forwarded to this part I like, with this boy in one of the bunk beds at the camp. I paused the tape at the moment when he sort of sat up, shirtless, to turn his light out. I got a boner and started to jerk off. Just as I was getting really into it and concentrating, I heard a bump and the door flew open.
Kendra stood there, tall in the doorway, and looked between me and the TV screen. She quickly turned away, like she accidentally walked into the wrong room and she didn’t even notice me.
I freaked out and escaped through Jared’s window, which was the first time I used a window as a door. The next day when I saw him at school, I told him I felt sick and had to go. I don’t think Kendra ever told him, but since then I’ve only seen her from a distance. I was 14-and-a-half and I’ve avoided her since.
She walks back in. I’m freaked out now, thinking about her expression that day. She sits on the arm of my chair and puts her legs up on top of
I smile. “Hey.” I’m buzzed already. I hope I don’t end up puking tonight.
Frank hands me some pot and papers. “Roll one, brah?”
“Uh, sure.” I can’t believe how cool this world is. Guys hug each other. People just hand you pot. Everyone’s drunk and cool and old enough to do what they want to do. I wanna grow up so bad. “Smells like good shit.” I hope they think I know what I’m talking about.
Clay smiles approvingly and goes off upstairs with Frank, to do more coke, I think.
I sit down and try to seem high and out of it, so I don’t have to talk to any strangers. I’m horrible at it. I lose my personality completely when I’m forced to be entertaining or interesting. I don’t think these dudes, except for Clay, would like me if they really knew me. I write haiku. I don’t surf. I hate the sun.
They think I’m like Clay because he brought me. They think guys who think like I do are fags.
“Little Sammy turned into a joint-rolling slave,” a girl’s voice says. Someone taps my shoulder.
I flinch and look up.
It’s Kendra. Jared’s sister. She looks older and cool, sort of relaxed in a totally mellow way.
Instantly, I remember lip-synching fake Joni Mitchell concerts in her bedroom, baking cookies with rum and vodka and anything else we could find to put in them. One New Year’s Eve, when we stole liquor from her parents, we shot off a huge M-80 Super-Rocket and it misfired and burnt down her shed. They’re all embarrassing things in the context being at this party. Majorly lightweight shit. I smile. My stomach’s flying.
She leans down to hug me but someone calls her to the kitchen. “Hold on, Sammy. I really want to talk to you.” Her hair tickles my face.
Her gardenia perfume brings back another time like magic.
I was waiting for Jared in his room. He was in his family’s living room, being yelled at by his parents. We’d made too much noise the night before camping in a tent in his backyard. We were playing strip poker with this weird girl, Lisa, from down the street. I was getting pretty turned on or whatever the day before because Jared had this calendar with surfers on it up on the wall and I couldn’t stop looking at it as we were watching horror movies and talking about where to get pot or beer. When he left the room, I locked the door and found this movie I knew called Space Camp . I fast-forwarded to this part I like, with this boy in one of the bunk beds at the camp. I paused the tape at the moment when he sort of sat up, shirtless, to turn his light out. I got a boner and started to jerk off. Just as I was getting really into it and concentrating, I heard a bump and the door flew open.
Kendra stood there, tall in the doorway, and looked between me and the TV screen. She quickly turned away, like she accidentally walked into the wrong room and she didn’t even notice me.
I freaked out and escaped through Jared’s window, which was the first time I used a window as a door. The next day when I saw him at school, I told him I felt sick and had to go. I don’t think Kendra ever told him, but since then I’ve only seen her from a distance. I was 14-and-a-half and I’ve avoided her since.
She walks back in. I’m freaked out now, thinking about her expression that day. She sits on the arm of my chair and puts her legs up on top of
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