Girl.
“So where’s Syd?” she asked as she walked by with a cigarette in one hand and a bottle of beer in the other.
“Friends,” I said.
“You didn’t invite her?” she asked. She sounded surprised.
“Was I supposed to?”
The girl shrugged. “You
could’ve
,” she said. “That’s all.”
“Oh,” I said. “Um. Next time.”
“Cool!” the girl said, and wandered off.
Matthew’s house. I couldn’t have dreamed of a worse place to be. And I hadn’t even seen Becky anywhere. The only reason I’d shown up was to—I don’t know. Yell at her? Beat up Matthew? Not a clue. Just seemed like the perfect bad idea at the time to agree to come.
Restless, I moved out to the backyard. Kids were gathered in groups, mostly laughing, a few groping. When I spotted Becky, I almost dropped my beer.
She sat by herself by the swimming pool, her legs dangling in the water. She had a beanbag chair stuffed under her back and took long, practiced hits off a small blue pipe. I could tell by the way she held each inhalation what she was smoking.
I wanted to rush over and knock the pipe into the pool.
Stop!
I screamed in my head.
What are you doing, you don’t do this, stop!
Okay, so, it’s not like this was a moral issue for me. If someone wanted to get high from time to time and deal with frying their brains, more power to ’em. But not Becky.
I mean, it wasn’t that she was smoking out; it was how easily she was doing it. No hesitation, no uncertainty. Think about a fifth grader sneaking his first cigarette in the alley versus a pack-a-day addict—you can tell by body language who has been doing it longer.
This wasn’t an experiment for Becky, and it killed me. It wasn’t who she was supposed to be.
I set my beer down on a lawn table, went back inside, and texted Gabby.
Ready to go
.
I expected her to text back. Instead, my phone rang. I didn’t want to answer it, didn’t feel like dealing with Gabrielle’s big-sister bit.
I hit the button anyway. “Hello.”
“What happened?”
“Can you just … I’m just ready to go.”
Gabby paused. “On the way,” she said finally, and hung up.
Sometimes having a sibling means not having to say anything.
I went out front and waited for her. Gabby showed up in less than fifteen minutes, driving her ancient red Honda. I got in and slammed the door shut.
My sister said, “So …”
“Whatever,” I snarled.
Gabby let the car roll down the street. “Easy there, peaches,” she said. “What happened?”
“Why did you get high?”
Gabby laughed. This improved my mood not at all. She trailed off when she saw I wasn’t enthused by her reaction. “Well,” she said, “I guess because it was fun. Yeah. Final answer.”
“You did it a
lot
.”
“I wanted to have a lot of fun.”
“Have you done it since Mom and Dad busted you?”
Gabrielle shrugged. “You itching to try it out? Or have you already?”
“I tried it a couple times last year with Robby and Justin.”
“So what did you get into tonight?”
“It’s not me, it’s …”
Gabby lifted her eyebrows but didn’t take her eyes off the road.
“Okay, look,” I said, “if I tell you something, you have to promise not to tell Sydney.”
“Ohhhh-kay. Pinkie swear.”
“Okay, so, on the first day of school last year …”
I unwrapped the entire Becky saga as it existed at that point. I barely registered that when I concluded the story with what I’d seen tonight, we’d been sitting in her car in our driveway for at least half an hour.
“I see,” Gabby said when I stopped talking. “So, couple things. First, are you saying you don’t like Sydney anymore?”
“No, it’s not that. I do like her,” I said. “She’s great. But Becky’s … I don’t know …”
“Becky is unattainable,” Gabby said. “And I can’t help but wonder if that’s part of the attraction.”
“It’s crossed my mind, but I don’t think so,” I said. “There’s just
“So where’s Syd?” she asked as she walked by with a cigarette in one hand and a bottle of beer in the other.
“Friends,” I said.
“You didn’t invite her?” she asked. She sounded surprised.
“Was I supposed to?”
The girl shrugged. “You
could’ve
,” she said. “That’s all.”
“Oh,” I said. “Um. Next time.”
“Cool!” the girl said, and wandered off.
Matthew’s house. I couldn’t have dreamed of a worse place to be. And I hadn’t even seen Becky anywhere. The only reason I’d shown up was to—I don’t know. Yell at her? Beat up Matthew? Not a clue. Just seemed like the perfect bad idea at the time to agree to come.
Restless, I moved out to the backyard. Kids were gathered in groups, mostly laughing, a few groping. When I spotted Becky, I almost dropped my beer.
She sat by herself by the swimming pool, her legs dangling in the water. She had a beanbag chair stuffed under her back and took long, practiced hits off a small blue pipe. I could tell by the way she held each inhalation what she was smoking.
I wanted to rush over and knock the pipe into the pool.
Stop!
I screamed in my head.
What are you doing, you don’t do this, stop!
Okay, so, it’s not like this was a moral issue for me. If someone wanted to get high from time to time and deal with frying their brains, more power to ’em. But not Becky.
I mean, it wasn’t that she was smoking out; it was how easily she was doing it. No hesitation, no uncertainty. Think about a fifth grader sneaking his first cigarette in the alley versus a pack-a-day addict—you can tell by body language who has been doing it longer.
This wasn’t an experiment for Becky, and it killed me. It wasn’t who she was supposed to be.
I set my beer down on a lawn table, went back inside, and texted Gabby.
Ready to go
.
I expected her to text back. Instead, my phone rang. I didn’t want to answer it, didn’t feel like dealing with Gabrielle’s big-sister bit.
I hit the button anyway. “Hello.”
“What happened?”
“Can you just … I’m just ready to go.”
Gabby paused. “On the way,” she said finally, and hung up.
Sometimes having a sibling means not having to say anything.
I went out front and waited for her. Gabby showed up in less than fifteen minutes, driving her ancient red Honda. I got in and slammed the door shut.
My sister said, “So …”
“Whatever,” I snarled.
Gabby let the car roll down the street. “Easy there, peaches,” she said. “What happened?”
“Why did you get high?”
Gabby laughed. This improved my mood not at all. She trailed off when she saw I wasn’t enthused by her reaction. “Well,” she said, “I guess because it was fun. Yeah. Final answer.”
“You did it a
lot
.”
“I wanted to have a lot of fun.”
“Have you done it since Mom and Dad busted you?”
Gabrielle shrugged. “You itching to try it out? Or have you already?”
“I tried it a couple times last year with Robby and Justin.”
“So what did you get into tonight?”
“It’s not me, it’s …”
Gabby lifted her eyebrows but didn’t take her eyes off the road.
“Okay, look,” I said, “if I tell you something, you have to promise not to tell Sydney.”
“Ohhhh-kay. Pinkie swear.”
“Okay, so, on the first day of school last year …”
I unwrapped the entire Becky saga as it existed at that point. I barely registered that when I concluded the story with what I’d seen tonight, we’d been sitting in her car in our driveway for at least half an hour.
“I see,” Gabby said when I stopped talking. “So, couple things. First, are you saying you don’t like Sydney anymore?”
“No, it’s not that. I do like her,” I said. “She’s great. But Becky’s … I don’t know …”
“Becky is unattainable,” Gabby said. “And I can’t help but wonder if that’s part of the attraction.”
“It’s crossed my mind, but I don’t think so,” I said. “There’s just
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