How Does Your Garden Grow

How Does Your Garden Grow - Chapter 6

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Chapter 6

The smoke gave Lilly a headache, and she began to think coming on this road trip was a bad idea.

As Bad Company's Rock 'N Roll Fantasy blared from the car's radio, Rick, Eddie, and Regina passed the small pipe around, each taking a drag before passing it to the other. They'd been on the road for a while, and now a smoky haze, together with Paul Rodgers' bluesy vocals, filled the cabin of Rick's station wagon as it sped south along the Garden State Parkway.

A few minutes earlier, Lilly thought nothing of it when Rick removed his hand from the steering wheel, leaned his body across Regina's lap, popped open the glove box and withdrew a narrow, zippered pencil case. The case looked just like the one she'd used in middle school, only this one was black, and she was pretty certain it didn't hold No.2 pencils, or cheap Bic pens, or a protractor that never got used.

She watched from the back seat, curious now, as Rick worked open the zipper. He first pulled out a tiny metal pipe, not much bigger than the palm of his hand. This was followed by a lighter, and finally a clear plastic baggie filled with something that looked like dried herbs from her mother's kitchen.

Lilly had a pretty good idea what Rick had just pulled from the pencil case and dropped into his lap. She had no personal experience with grass, nor knew anyone who did. She was only a freshman, like Regina, so while she'd heard about it, even read about it, she'd never seen the real thing until now. Rick and Eddie were seniors, though, so while it both disturbed and intrigued Lilly, it didn't at all surprise her when Rick prepared to light up.

Eddie and Regina both saw what Rick was doing, yet neither said a word. Their only reaction was to casually look away, as if watching, or otherwise acknowledging his actions, might make them appear naïve, out of step, less cool. But from the back seat, Lilly's eyes fixed on Rick. She watched, engrossed, as he rolled open the baggie, fed the dry shards of plant into the pipe, and then held it to his lips. All this he did while the car continued speeding down the Parkway. His bare and boney knees, protruding from the shredded bottoms of cut-off jeans, squeezed the steering wheel, nudging it this way and that to keep the vehicle moving straight, or straight enough, in the far left lane. She watched how, with a practiced hand, he thumbed the wheel of his plastic Bic lighter, placed the flame above the pipe, and inhaled in short puffs. As he did, the flame pulsed, dipped down, and was drawn into the bowl with each breath until a red ember glowed briefly there, faded, and then was replaced by a steady, delicate wisp of smoke. Rick inhaled deeply, held the smoke in his lungs for a few seconds, and then let a cloud slowly billow from his lips.

Lilly caught the scent right away. It was an odd but sweet, herbal aroma. Not disagreeable in small quantities, she thought, and somehow familiar. Yes, in fact, it was recently familiar. She'd caught a whiff of that same scent just last week at school when she passed the girls' restroom on the second floor of C Hall. She wondered about it then, but not anymore. Now she knew, and understood.

Rick's eyes darted to the rear view mirror and locked on Lilly. She hadn't realized she was staring at him, focused like a camera lens on what he was doing, until his eyes fell on her, caught her. She quickly looked away, out the window to the Parkway where the trees rushed by in a blur.

"You want some, Lil'?" Rick said evenly. His tone was not unkind, but not inviting either. To anyone else, his mind would be difficult to read, but to Lilly it was very clear. Those words and their tone were testing, probing, questioning, laying a trap.

Where do you stand?

That was the real question.

Are you going to judge? Are you going to give us shit for smoking shit?