"You guys been friends a long time?"
"Since the first day of first grade."
Georgia and I had been the same; funny how fast forever could end. Thoughts of her caused the usual pain, but I pushed it aside. Adventuring with John being way more interesting than inner turmoil.
"Careful here." He turned back, held out his hand. His fingers were stronger than mine, the skin rougher. Together, we climbed the rocky trail to the top of the hill and stood at the edge. Hands disengaged and all returned to relative normal.
"How you wanna do this?" he asked. "You want me to go first?"
"It's pretty dark down there. I can't see the water properly." I pushed some pebbles off the edge with my toes. They scattered and fell, eventually splashing.
"Don't worry. It's there," he said.
Interestingly enough, I'd been too busy hauling ass to the top of the hill and fretting about the fall to worry about my body. John's gaze did a quick up and down; no expression of horror or anything crossed his face. We were friends, apparently. It was fine. Still, the thought of him in the water looking up, watching while I plummeted, didn't appeal. Nor did him catching the view from above, either.
"Do you want me to push you?" he asked.
"Don't you fucking dare!"
More laughter from the ass. "Relax, Edie. I wouldn't do that."
Eyes all squinty, I gave him a disgruntled look.
"Sorry. You can trust me, I swear."
"Whatever," I mumbled.
"So," he said eventually. "What are we doing?"
"Can we go together?"
"Sure."
I held out my hand and he took it, grip strong and sure.
"Count of three, on three," he said. "Ready?"
"Yep."
"One. Two. Three." And we jumped.
I screamed and he laughed, the lake rushing up to greet us. Adrenaline surged through me, making me feel more alive than I had in a long time, but it was over so fast. Then we were in the water, submerged in the dark. Of course, I had to let go of his hand to swim to the surface. Still alive, thank you baby Jesus, blood pounded behind my ears. My underwear had even managed to remain intact.
John treaded water, wet hair hanging in his face. "You good?"
"Yeah. That was great!"
"What else haven't you done before?"
"I don't know." I swirled my arms around in the water, keeping myself afloat. Talk about an embarrassing topic of conversation. I wouldn't lie to him, but I wasn't willing to be specific, either. "The usual."
"Ever smoked a joint?"
"No, I haven't." And I felt a little foolish admitting it, too. "Good girls don't do that sort of thing. We stay home and contemplate God and shit."
"You're a good girl?"
"No," I said, pondering my answer. "Not anymore. I think I might've changed religion recently."
A fleeting smile crossed his face. The understanding in his eyes that I couldn't get anywhere else.
"Yeah, me too," he said.
"Race you back to the beach?"
"You're on."
"Ready. Set. Go!"
With seemingly effortless strokes he cut through the water, leaving me and my dog-paddling way behind. Not that I actually tried.
"You win," I called out and heard laughter.
Sports weren't my strong suit. Any kind of marathon outside of shopping, TV, or reading and I'd be guaranteed to come in last. Never mind. Everyone had their strengths and weaknesses. Each and every one of us was a special little sunflower.
Coming in last also provided me with a most excellent view of John walking up the beach. Sodden dark gray boxer briefs were plastered to his butt, and what a butt it was. Whoa. A photographic memory would be so great. Not that I was objectifying my new friend or anything, because that would be wrong. And foolish.
Like an oversized dog, he shook the water from his hair. I wrapped mine around a hand and wrung it dry, following him slowly, trying to catch my breath. My makeup had probably dripped halfway down my face, but whatever. Most of my nervous energy had been burnt up in the fall. From inside the car, he grabbed a lighter and a little baggie.
"Sit on the hood," he said, climbing on up and leaning back against the windshield.
"That won't hurt your car?"
"No. But it'll keep our asses warm and help us dry."
"Good call." I carefully climbed onboard, hoping the metal wouldn't start groaning or something beneath my weight. Probably, I should have just put the dress back on. That would have been the smart thing to do. But screw it.
Flames leapt and John lit the blunt, then held it my way. "Go hard, Edie."
"Shut it." My smile wavered from nerves.
Carefully, he handed it over, smiling back at me. Without too much hesitation, I put it to my lips and drew back slowly, taking it deep into my lungs, before letting it out. A puff of smoke floated out of my mouth and my eyes stung a little. Then I tried unsuccessfully to cough up a lung.
"You all right?" he asked.
Nodding, I coughed some more into my hand and passed the joint back. "Absolutely. I'm a rebel."
"You're badass. I'm actually a little afraid of you."
"Thanks."
"You've got to puff a bit gently," he said. "Weed burns hotter than tobacco."
We passed it back and forth, relaxing against the car, staring up at the stars. My body unraveled, all of my earthly worries and weight falling away. So my thighs were thick and my belly bulged. So what. I was alive and allowed to take up space.
"Fuck being unhappy," I said.
"Fuck being unhappy?" John repeated, giving me a curious look.
"Yes. Absolutely."
The side of his mouth curved upward, his gaze lingering on me. From my face to my chest and back again. In all likelihood, the boy was inwardly laughing at how red my eyes were or something. I crossed my arms over my breasts, feeling self-conscious.
A breeze blew in off the lake, cooler than before. He'd been spot-on about the benefits of sitting on top of a warm engine, and who knew muscles cars could be so comfortable?
"You don't look like a drug dealer," I said quietly.
"Probably a good thing. For the business, I mean. It's a hassle if the cops know straight away you're dealing."
"True." I crossed my feet at the ankles. "Think you'll start up again?"
"No, I'm done with that." He pushed his hair back from his face, saying nothing for a minute. "Dillon started the business; I kind of inherited part of it when he left high school. But the heavier stuff he moved on to selling, it wasn't good."
Mouth shut, I listened.
"You were right about the Drop Stop changing things. Part of me felt like looking at Chris was maybe like looking at what Dillon will be like before long. And then looking at Dillon made me wonder what I might be like before long." Again, he breathed the joint in deep, letting the smoke out slowly. "So yeah. I told Dillon I was finished and moved in with my uncle."
"You don't live with your parents?" One of the girls had mentioned as much. Still, weird.
"Dad got a job up north," was all he said.
I nodded. It seemed like some response was required.
"Anyway, dealing pot's got no future. Need to figure something else out."
"Yeah, you're probably right," I said, studying the shadows on his face. The girls had wondered over his sudden interest in attending school and getting an education. Guess this answered why.
We didn't speak for a while, each busy in our own head. Funny, the lurking signs of adulthood showed in him more clearly. His height and build, the depth of his voice, and the knowledge in his eyes. He turned back to staring at the night sky. Despite the draw of him, I did likewise. It wouldn't do to get any stupid ideas, no matter how high I flew.
Midnight came and went, my curfew broken for the first time ever. With Mom at work, it wasn't like it much mattered. Still, the good girl would have been scared stiff of somehow getting busted. Her fears were small, stupid things. Nothing that actually mattered.
"It's such a beautiful night. Nature and stuff is great. This is my favorite thing, watching the moon and stars." I took my turn with the joint, not coughing quite so much this time. Talking to John came easier every moment. I don't know if it was our recent history, the jump, or the dope. But it felt good, letting the words flow with him listening. I happy sighed. "Along with books, they're my favorite. And cake and coffee and music and . . . movies and shopping. You're allowed as many favorites as you need."
"Right."
"Your turn."
"Hmm." He took his go doing the illegal drug thing. "Skateboarding."
"Yep." I waited. "And?"
He frowned as he thought. Apparently he had fewer words to let flow. "Shooting hoops with Anders."
Thus he had his body and I had my body, and never the two shall meet. Sad but true. "Things besides sports?"
"Movies are okay. Action, horror, stuff like that."