Page 25 of Don't Tell Me How to Die

Track me down. If anybody else said that to me, I’d think, what an asshole. But in Johnny’s case, it was part of his charm.

I smiled to myself, knowing that as soon as I got home, my sister would ask how I’m doing, and I’d be ready with the perfect answer.

“Much better,” I would say. “I hopped on the bus to Bad Boy Town and revenge-fucked the mayor.”

FIFTEEN

When you’re only seventeen, and your plan for the evening is to score some weed from your dealer at midnight, it helps to have a father who puts in a fourteen-hour day, comes home at eleven, showers, and is out like a light by eleven fifteen.

I left the house at eleven thirty and drove to the Pits, a huge abandoned rock quarry about five miles out of the jurisdiction of the Heartstone Police Department.

The line to get into the parking area moved slowly, and as I got closer to the front, I could see why. Johnny Rollo was directing traffic. Some cars got waved through. But some stopped, the driver’s window would go down, Johnny would reach in, and in seconds his hand would come back, and the deal would be done.

Business was brisk.

He gave me a noncommittal head toss when I rolled down my window. “Welcome to my world,” he said. “Glad to see you made it.”

He tossed a bag of weed on my front seat, and I pulled some money out of my wallet.

“You’re in luck,” he said, pushing my hand away. “We’re giving away free samples to every honor student who rolls in. So far, you’re the only one.”

I knew better than to argue. “Thanks,” I said. “I knew all that studying would pay off one of these days.”

“Park over there by that Jeep,” he said, pointing. “Stay in your car, lights out till it starts.”

“When’s that?”

“You’re an honor student. You’ll figure it out.”

He smiled. He needed dental work, but that only added to his earthy sexiness.

“See you later?” I asked.

“Probably not. It’s my busy season. But there’s a lot of assholes around here, and they get ass-holier as the night goes on. If anyone gives you a hard time, call me. My cell number is in the bag.”

He stepped away from the car and waved me on. I pulled up next to the Jeep and turned off my lights.

Dozens of cars were parked nearby, and I could make out the shapes of the passengers, lit only by the glow of whatever it was they were smoking.

Outside my window, the world was deathly quiet. But the thoughts inside my head were clanging like a runaway pinball machine. My dead mother. My despondent father. My college applications. Sex with Johnny Rollo. “There is no us,” he’d said. “Never will be,” he’d said. “One and done,” he’d said. Then why did he give me his phone number? Why did he give me free weed? Why did he say, “If anyone gives you a hard time?—?”

The silence was suddenly shattered by the aggressive sound of Metallica exploding through the cavernous space. Then the night lit up as hundreds of cars circling the quarry’s upper rim turned on their headlights.

My honor student brain figured it out immediately. Party time. I got out of the car.

“Maggie!” a voice called out.

I turned around. “Misty,” I said, happy to see a familiar face.

Misty Sinclair and her family lived at 822 Crystal Avenue, across the street and half a block away from my house. They’d moved to Heartstone when Misty and I were both in fourth grade, and the two of us tried to be friends at first. But we had nothing in common.

I loved school. Misty got by, but she’d much rather have fun, and by the time we were in seventh grade we’d completely drifted apart. I was focused on academics, sports, and extracurricular activities, while Misty was more into music, hanging out with her friends, and—somewhere around the age of eleven—boys.

“I haven’t seen you since your mom’s funeral,” she said. “How are you doing?”

Normally, I’d have said,Pretty good, looking at colleges. How about you?But nothing about my life felt normal. “Not so great,” I said. “I’ve spent the summer washing dishes, I’m worried about my depressed, widowed father, and I just found out that my boyfriend got married because he got some girl in Korea pregnant.”

“Van got...? Oh, you poor thing. No wonder you went and jumped on Johnny Rollo.”

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