Page 210 of Forbidden Lessons

I should have waited for the first few drags to kick in before smoking more, but the rage is still there. Bubbling. Boiling. Seconds away from burning down the whole fucking house.

My lips curl in disgust as I realize I’m smoking filter. I crush out what’s left under my heel, wince when I remember I’m barefoot.

But I don’t feel a thing because it’s pouring with rain and I’m soaked. Cold.

Still pissed, but simmering now.

Then the weed hits.

And it hits fucking hard.

Kruger and iPhone both grab me as I tip forward, my eyes rolling back, but all they can do is slow my descent into a crouch with my back hard against the tree.

My head is in my hands.

“Dude. You chill?”

“Fuuuuck,” is all I can get past my clenched jaw.

Kruger stands up. I hear him over my head, talking to iPhone. “Shit. Guess he’s rolling again.”

“Because you gave him too much.”

“Nah, man, this guy’s got mad tolerance. It’s just…it’s stress, right?”

“I’d fucking be stressed too. Ezra’s gonna need reconstructive fucking surgery to?—“

“Jesus, man, shut up.”

“I’ve never seen someone flip out like that on molly.”

“There’s obviously some serious shit going on between them.”

“Yeah, but, shouldn’t they just be hugging it out?”

“I don’t know, man. Guess it’s all about state of mind. He was having a chill time, until he wasn’t, and that shit with Ezra and Haven, that’s what triggered him. Unresolved?—“

A phone rings. “Sorry, man. One sec.”

Kruger crouches beside me. “Dude, we gotta go. This rain is nonstop. Can you stand?”

I try, but my legs are rubber, the ground a fucking bouncy ball.

iPhone is back. “The fuck was in that weed?”

“Don’t blame the tree, bro,” Kruger grumbles. “Blame the mind.”

We weave our way through the forest and back over the lawn toward the country club. When my head rolls back and I see all the bright lights and the straight-up walls and the white paint,all I can think about is that fucked up wallpaper, and I fight them.

“Geez, relax, bro.”

“We’re going to my truck,” iPhone says.

It takes an eternity to get there. An eternity of squelching over muddy, drowned grass and trying to use legs that have forgotten how to walk as iPhone and Kruger’s hands dig into my biceps as they try to keep me up.

But we’re finally there, and I’m being half-pushed, half-rolled into the back of an Escalade.

I lie on my back, staring up at a light gray, featureless ceiling. Then iPhone appears, craning over the backrest. He’s working his jaw so hard, it’s like he’s trying to grind his teeth into a straight line.

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