Page 50 of Backslide
“Yeah. We’re full adults,” Cara agrees, unironically dropping a gummy bear on her tongue and tossing one in Ben’s waiting open mouth. “Nellie is always fun, regardless.”
Lydia scoffs.
I choose to ignore her.
“I’m not saying that Nellie isn’t fun,” Damien says, sliding an arm around my good shoulder, so that his hand rests on my bare back. “Nellie is thebest. She knows I think that.” He looks to me for confirmation. I nod likesure, because what is the other option? But I take a small step forward to escape his sweaty palm. “I just think you’re underestimating her—she can handleonegummy.”
“It’s true that it might help with the shoulder,” Rita says, fishing a pack of gum out of her Clare V. tote (clearly stolen from Sabrina).
“Yeah, but… have you heard the story about the bong hit at Ben’s house?” Cara stage-whispers, her eyes widening meaningfully. “Nellie never recovered!”
“Hello!” I say, “I am literally standing right here. I don’t need you guys to litigate my weed consumption.
“Thank you, Damien,” I add, turning toward him and, only in that moment, fully taking in the cheesy pink polo he’s rocking. “I do think I could handle one gummy…”
And I am about to finish with a bigbutand a hard pass on the THC when I hear someone cough behind me. But not cough cough. Like he’s got allergies or tuberculosis. Cough withmeaning.
I turn around to find Noah standing to my right, looking innocently up at the sky.
“Excuse me,” I say.
He drops his gaze to meet my eyes, his hands behind his back, like,can I help you?
“What the hell was that noise?”
He shrugs. “Nothing.”
“It sure sounded like something.”
“And yet it wasn’t.”
“So, youdothink I can handle a gummy?”
He opens his mouth, closes it again. “I mean, maybe if that’s…”
“Cut the shit, Noah.”
“No. Nope. Not at all. Not even a little bit. Don’t take the gummy. You absolutelycannothandle it.”
My eyes narrow at him; I swear the whole group holds its collective breath. Even strangers coming in and out of surrounding shops seem to go silent, like they can feel the weather turn.
I take a step toward him; I see him consider taking a step back.
“What—you think you fucking know me?” I demand, a finger in his face. “Because you felt me up two decades ago when I was a literalchild?”
An older woman passing by on the street looks at Noah aghast.
“No, that’s… I was a child too,” he says to her. She hustles away.
I turn to Cara. “Hand me the fucking gummy.”
Cara looks unsure of what to do. I have clearly hit deranged on the rage-o-meter.
She nods toward Sabrina, who is still holding a tin, maybe hoping she’ll talk some sense into me. Sabrina is the direct one; the unafraid one.
“Nellie,” Sabrina cautions. “Are you sure? ’Cause it’s not worth it to prove a point.”
“Positive,” I say, my hand out. “Give me one.Please.”
