Tricks by Ellen Hopkins Page A

slices off a thin section
    *
    and tells me, Cocaine, clean as you can find anywhere.
    My brother knows the importer.
    Wait until you try it.
    *
    I don't want to admit the idea
    scares me. Weed is one thing.
    Cocaine is another. I've seen it waste people. Seen it waste
    *
    entire families, in fact, when
    one parent or the other (or both)
    invests everything they have into staying buzzed on coke.
    *
    Lucas keeps chopping, but my
    silence alerts him. You've done
    coke before, right? No? Oh, baby, you're gonna love it.
    *
    You're totally gonna fly.
    Don't worry. He grins like a leprechaun. You're safe
    flying with me. Mostly anyway.
    207
    I Watch Lucas
    Suck two long, thin, sparkly
    yellowish lines up his nose.
    Then he hands the picture to me.
    Not too hard or you'll sneeze.
    *
    I inhale gently, one line up the right nostril, the other up the left. Immediately, both sides of my nose go
    *
    cold and numb. Now, just like that, my heart is racing and the hairs on my arms rise, sending little chills throughout
    *
    my entire body. OMG. No
    wonder people like this drug.
    I look at Lucas, who's watching
    me carefully. "More, please."
    *
    He laughs. Careful now.
    A little of this goes a long
    way. But he indulges me, and himself, with two more.
    *
    Every nerve jumps to attention.
    I can't feel my mouth or nose, but other parts of my body are begging to be touched.
    208
    Lucas indulges them, too, with his hands and his mouth.
    I love how he kisses, love how his fingers move over my body.
    *
    Everything is hard. Everything is warm. No, cold. No, warm.
    I've never felt so alive. Never
    felt so in love. I glance at the clock.
    *
    Not even one. We have plenty of time. But I don't want to do it here on the couch. "Let's
    go to my bedroom, okay?"
    209
    I Don't Have to Ask Twice
    Lucas scoops me up into his toned arms, carries me down the hall, like a groom
    clutching his bride. The thought
    *
    makes me blush, and I have
    no clue why. I rest my head against his chest for the entire
    ten-second journey. Then
    *
    he lays me gently on the bed, unbuttons my shirt, peels
    back the blue satin, stares at what he has uncovered.
    *
    I am totally exposed, totally
    flying high, and yet I do, in fact, feel safe with Lucas, even as he lowers himself
    *
    over me. Every ounce of me
    wants what he's about to do, and yet for just an instant, regret stings and I say, "Wait."
    *
    He pauses. What? You
    don't want me to stop, do you? Because I don't
    think I can. I need you. See?
    210
    He lowers my hand to feel his need, and my heart screams,
    "Hurry!" Still, my brain whispers,
    "You can never take this back."
    *
    I look up into Lucas's eyes.
    "I don't want you to stop.
    But please don't go too fast.
    I'm afraid..." Afraid it will
    *
    hurt. Afraid it will change me.
    Afraid... afraid... the word
    thumps in time with my heartbeat, even as Lucas soothes, I'll go easy.
    *
    And he does. And I'm ready.
    And it does feel good, despite the pain, because it also hurts.
    And then, it's just over.
    211
    Still Buzzed
    And yet also drained, we lie
    together for a while. I don't
    know if it was good for Lucas or not. I want to ask, but I don't
    *
    want to ask because if I do and he says no, it will leave a scar.
    I don't even know if it was good for me, because I'm not sure
    *
    what "good sex" is. Your first time
    probably isn't so good, right?
    Because I didn't exactly feel
    fireworks. Maybe I was too
    *
    numb. Doesn't matter. What's
    done is done, and I love Lucas
    even more now because he is my first. My ear rests against
    *
    his chest. I listen to the promise of his heart, and suddenly
    my mouth is moving and what
    spills from it is, "I love you."
    212
    I Wait for Him
    To tell me he loves me, too.
    After several seconds, I notice
    I've been holding my breath.
    I grab air as he rolls out of bed.
    *
    It's getting late. Don't want to get busted. He stands, looks
    down, at himself and the bed.
    But not at me. Why won't he
    *
    look at me? We'd better clean
    up. And you might want