Page 26 of The Other Half

Oliver: Please? I want you to get along with my friends. I know they’re a bit rough around the edges but they’re gonna grow on you.

I’m more concerned that I won’t grow on them. Whatever. I don’t want Amber and Oliver hanging out without me there anyway. Everything about this makes me uncomfortable.

Oakley: Okay. I’ll meet you at 11.

I lock my phone and watch as the screen fades to black. Then I turn on my heel to head upstairs and start applying my makeup, a little bit heavier than usual.

* * *

I walk up to Oliver’s porch, my fingers linked through his. The porch light is turned on, glowing just bright enough to light the small area. A couple of moths swarm around the golden lightbulb. Amber and Rodney are sitting across from each other at the small, plastic table, both of them laughing and holding a cigarette. I watch as Amber flicks the butt of her cigarette, causing tiny embers to fly out of the other end.

“Here she is!” Rodney says, leaping out of his seat to come toward us. “I was wondering when he’d finally bring you around to chill outside of school. Here, take my seat,” he says, gesturing toward the chair he just vacated. He seems like a genuinely nice guy.

Amber remains quiet, just sizing me up like always. This is gonna be a blast.

“Hey, Oakley,” she says quietly, taking a drag from her cigarette immediately after. It’s weird, I know the smell is offensive to most non-smokers, but it’s never bothered me. I sort of like it actually. My parents never smoked cigarettes, but my dad sometimes smoked cigars in his office, maybe that’s what the smell reminds me of.

“Hi,” I reply, trying to sound somewhat cheerful. Oliver walks up behind me, wrapping his arms around my neck, and places a soft kiss on the top of my head.

I look up at him, smiling, thankful that he’s not abandoning me with her.

“So, do you live nearby too?” she asks.

“Sort of… I live in Windsor Park. It’s about a thirty minute walk.”

“Windsor Park?!” She exclaims. “That place is niiiice. Why aren’t we chilling at your house instead of this dump?” She says as she points behind her towards the house with her thumb.

I feel my heart sink a little. I don’t know where she lives, but calling his home a dump seems so mean and unnecessary.

“Alright, it’s time for some real fun,” Rodney says, flicking his lighter and using it to light a funny looking cigarette.

Oh. Of course it isn’t a cigarette. It must be a joint, or a blunt? Whatever they call them…

He sticks the rolled up paper between his lips and pulls at it hard, until a cherry forms and a small tendril of smoke starts to pour out the end.

He pulls it away from his mouth and starts coughing, and a cloud of smoke appears around his head. He keeps coughing as he hands it to Oliver, who does the same thing but without the coughing at the end.

He exhales a small stream of smoke, and for some reason it looks so sexy. How am I attracted to everything this guy does, even when it involves drugs? I never pictured myself dating someone that smokes pot, I was always turned off by it. But he makes it seem completely harmless, and maybe even cool?

“You wanna hit it?” He holds the joint…thing almost directly in front of my face. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” he whispers.

“She smokes?” Amber asks incredulously. “There’s no way.” She says as she shakes her head humorously.

For some reason this pisses me off. Why not? No, I’ve never smoked before, but what about me makes it so unbelievable that I could?

I reach out to grab the joint from him, and I place it carefully between my lips, just barely sucking. How does this thing even work?

Suddenly I feel an intense tickle in my throat, and I pull the joint away. I cough loudly, for what feels like forever. It’s extremely embarrassing, even though Rodney did the same thing, but I wasn’t expecting it. I keep coughing into my elbow, trying not to be too loud, as I hold the joint out towards Amber.

“Jeeez, slow down, tiger.” Rodney slurs, as he belly laughs. “Actually no, you gotta cough to get off. You know what you’re doing.”

No, I really don’t.

Amber gracefully puffs on the joint, exhaling it and then quickly inhaling it back in through her nose. How the hell did she do that? And no cough comes from her afterwards, go figure.

They continue passing it around until it’s so small that it’s burning our fingertips, and finally someone decides to put it out.

I feel so heavy. My arms and legs feel glued in place, like I couldn’t move them even if I wanted to. I feel my eyelids beginning to close on their own, the way they do when I’m not ready to wake up when my alarm goes off.

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