Violence Begets... by Pt Denys, Myra Shelley Page B

pass. Twenty-three minutes
later he emerged from the complex with a smile, strolling to the car like he had
all the time in the world. I took a deep breath and resisted starting something
with him.
    “So?” I asked a little too anxiously
as he slid into the car. He tossed me a plastic bag of what looked like a bunch
of dead sticks and leaves. “What’s this?” I asked, annoyed. Was this some kind of
joke?
    “Shrooms. You’ll like ‘em.”
    “Fine.”
    “You’re on one today.”
    “I warned you.”
    “That you did.”
    “There’s not a lot here.” I said, playing
with the bag.
    “Enough for two.”
    “Not going to call the guys over?”
    “Not tonight. Not really in the mood
to deal with them. Are you?”
    “No. How long do they take to kick in?”
I asked while examining the bag.
    “Thirty minutes or so, maybe forty-five.”
    “Should we get started?”
    He laughed. “Be my guest. Just have
to warn you, though. They literally taste like shit. We should stop and grab some
beer for a chaser.”
    “And how do you plan on buying it?”
    “The same way I always do, my fake ID.”
    “What? Since when?”
    “Since always.” He smiled again. He
was doing that more and more when the others weren’t around, the smiling thing.
I was glad he was in a good mood. I couldn’t really deal with jerk Kevin on top
of what I was dealing with.
    As soon as we left the gas station,
I cracked open the beer and asked, “So what? Just eat ‘em?”
    “Yeah, eat half the bag. Really chew
it until it dissolves in your mouth. I’ll eat the rest.”
    I reached in and pulled out a piece.
“It looks just like a dead stick. Are you sure this is part of ‘em?”
    He laughed again, “Yeah, I’m sure. Now
eat.”
    I expected it to taste like dirt, but
it didn’t. It literally tasted like dried-up shit. Not that I’d had shit before,
but I was sure that if shit had a taste, it would be that of shrooms. “This is awful,”
I gagged. “You weren’t kidding!”
    “I told you so. Now make sure to chew
it until there’s nothing left.”
    “Seriously? This is brutal. I don’t
think I can take half this bag.”
    “Yes, you can,” he said simply.
    I closed my eyes and focused on chewing.
It took a lot of concentration to get the stuff down. My mouth felt like a sandbox,
but it tasted much worse than sand ever could. By the time I finished my portion
of the bag, I’d gone through three beers just to get it all down. I had a nice little
buzz going, which I was sure would only help the effects of the shrooms.
    “So, is your dad going to be around
tonight? I’d rather party at your place. My father is in town.” Kevin said as he
turned into our neighborhood.
    “I’m not sure. Most likely not. If he
shows, we could always bolt and go someplace else.” If last year was any indicator,
I knew my dad would be out drinking somewhere. Sylvia knew this too, and had decided
to give him his space by going to her parents’ house for the holiday. She didn’t
want Emma’s 4 th of July ruined by the memories she knew would be haunting
me and my dad.
    By the time we’d settled in front of
my TV with the video games, I’d begun to get impatient waiting for the shrooms to
kick in.
    “Are you feeling anything yet?” Kevin
asked me.
    “Nope,” I replied. “So, how will I know?”
    “It’s mellow. You’ll know”
    The first signs that they were working
were the fuzzy lines spreading off the objects on the TV. Eventually, everything
got fuzzy and colorful around the edges. I’d heard people talking about seeing energy
and auras, and I was sure this was what I was seeing; however, a low level of anxiety
settled over my body as the intensity of the high eased into my mind, and the force
of Jason’s absence grew stronger. This was not good. Shrooms weren’t supposed to
make me feel more. They were supposed to erase the pain.
    “So how you feeling?” Kevin asked.
    “This is so cool! I love these,” I lied,
then laughed,