Juliet, no Romeo.

Pigs Can Fly, but Humans Most Certainly Cannot.

I stepped into the boy-spider's house with trepidation—just in case of boobie traps, of course. Minecraft had taught me that tripwires could be placed just about anywhere, and without complex visual detection, they were essentially invisible. So I took extra care when looking at the floorboards as I walked. No tripwires, no redstone, no pistons—good. Yet instead of boobie traps, there was a cacophony of shouting and hollering being passed about the space. My favourite: rambunctiousness. Mr. Montee-Spider jogged up to my spot near the threshold and waved.

"Hey Sophie, glad you could make it."
"I'm only here to get stoned," I deadpanned. As if I would be anywhere near this household for any other reason. The boy chuckled once again. He really thought everything and anything was funny, didn't he?
"Well come in Miss Stoner, we're just about to get started."

I sat on the floor of the living room as the lounges were filled with roughly four or so teenage boys and that was one thing I did not want to be associated with. I observed Daddy-Long-Legs grinding up the bag of weed with a random glass coaster that previously sat on the coffee table. He grinded it till it was fine enough to roll into a joint. He rolled up three joints and passed one to his buddies on the couch, one to me, and one he kept for himself.
"Ladies first," Montee smirked, handing me over a lighter. I could feel my face upturn slightly at the feeling of the joint in between my lips as I burnt the end of it. I inhaled once, and again, then blew out the smoke. There it was.

I took a few more hits before I passed the joint back to Mr. Spider's friends and lay my back on the carpeted floor. This is what I needed. The feeling of escaping to an Alternate Plane, a world that seeped through all my worries and evaporated them, inundated me. My stomach didn't even churn at the social presence of Montee hovering over me.

"Are you good there?" He chuckled once again, and I didn't even furrow my brows at his insistent laughing at unfunny things. I instead just chuckled as well. Actually, my small, little chuckle turned into full-blown laughter. I laughed and laughed until salty water dripped down my face. Funny, hilarious, comedic. I didn't even know what was funny, but it was good to laugh. To laugh out every fucking thing: to laugh my mum's girl's night out of my system, to laugh Brayden Sebastian Laurence out of my system, to laugh myself out of my system.

I was gone, practically. I was so gone that I even believed that I could fly—which clearly I couldn't. I stood up abruptly and searched for a back door. Montee, not being as stoned as me, clearly caught on to what I was about to do.

"Hey babe, maybe you should just sit down for a little longer," he heeded. Yet the words went through one ear and went out the other. My eyes spotted the back door and I raced out, stumbling a bit over tiny divots in the floorboards. I made it to the backyard and beamed at the supposed fireworks floating through the sky (yet now realising it, there were no fireworks). I swiftly climbed up a pipe on the side of Mr. Spider's house and made my way to the top of the roof. I really did believe I could fly in that moment, however, I doubt I would continue with my Peter-Pan-like notion if I realised what would ensue the next day. I'm never doing weed again.