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KIRAN'S POV
February (4 Months Later)
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That moment between taking the first puff of weed and wondering when the euphoria was going to slip under your skin was as intangible as trying to pinpoint the exact second before falling asleep. Kiran barely registered the squeal of the bell and took another long drag on his joint, his dry lips clinging like an infant at its mother's teat.
He and his new best friend—he used the word loosely—were sprawled over the picnic benches behind Hammerfeld High, the ones no one used except the junkies and the poet's society when they thought they were being "edgy". Kiran's hand rubbed at the itchy scruff on his cheek and let the girl next to him pull the joint from his fingers.
"Thank God for school," murmured Roxanne. She sucked the hand-rolled cigarette down to the stub.
"You realize we spend more time on bake breaks than inside, learning anything?" The smile slipped over Kiran's face before he could remember that it was coming super close to affectionate.
Thankfully, Roxanne didn't seem to notice. "Then thank God for bake breaks," she said, covering her yawn with the back of her hand. She didn't get her nails done like most of the girls at school; she kept hers clipped short and straight, and every week she painted them a different color of the rainbow.
Roxy struggled to sit upright, the riotous black curls falling over her face. She straightened her puffy red jacket so it covered her upper thighs and drew her knees up to her chest. "At this angle," she said, "you kind of look like that guy from One Direction."
Kiran rolled his eyes. "Let me guess. The brown one?"
Roxy laughed. "Want the rest?" She extended what remained of the joint, and when Kiran shook his head, she took another long pull before flinging it into the snow. It singed the tiny hole brown until it burned its way through, finally disappearing from view.
"Where do you find dealers?" Kiran asked, lazily drawing patterns on her back. Even though it was freeze your balls off cold, he imagined his fingers still felt warm when they touched her skin.
"Thinking of cutting me out?" She peeked at him through her curly hair, one honey eye lighting up with humor.
"Maybe."
"Prick." But she didn't scoot away from him, so he knew she didn't mean it. "You wouldn't be able to get close to these guys without me."
Kiran knew that was true. He acknowledged it with a dip of his head, his hand still splayed on her narrow back. "You wanna know the best thing about getting high?"
"I know you're gonna tell me."
"It's like being in a parallel universe. You're you, but not you. It's Earth, but not Earth."
Roxy laughed—it was easy to make her laugh—and said, "All right, seventies psychedelic child, you're cut off."
She didn't mean it. They both knew he paid her generously for only semi-decent weed. It was mostly bunk, crappy product filled with seeds and not potent enough for serious smokers to get even the smallest of buzzes.
"Hey, Rox." Kiran shot up - or thought he did. In actuality, the movement was far more slow, his body no longer supple and spry, but cotton-filled and sluggish. "Go to prom with me?"
YOU ARE READING
Silver Stilettos
Mystery / ThrillerIn a small Indiana town, a teenage girl hasn't been seen for months, and her brother Reed is sketchy on the details. But seventeen-year-old Mayuri Krishnan doesn't know any of this-not yet. For her, Reed is the boy of her daydreams, the name she scr...