He shook his head. “Better.” Opening his hands like a magician, he revealed something small and oblong, rolled up like a messy straw wrapper and pinched at one end.
Shaila giggled. “Yes!”
“You blaze before?” he asked her. I shot her a look. It was a line we hadn’t yet crossed.
“Once with Kara,” she said. “She had dank shit from the city.”Dank shit.Two words I’d never heard come out of Shaila’s mouth, especially not when referring to her chic family friend who also summered in the Hamptons.
Adam nodded and raised his eyebrows at her, impressed. “Et tu, Jill?” he asked, jabbing the little cigarette my way. I shook my head. “Well, then. Big day.” He gave my knee a squeeze and my stomach clenched. The joint dangled from his mouth, so pink and full, and he flicked on a lighter, inhaling deeply.
“Ah,” he breathed out. The air smelled of musk and dirt andfaintly like Mom’s pottery studio, and I wondered if my parents had done the same back there, if I was the one who was slow, always catching up. I took the nub from Adam and followed his lead, inhaling until I thought my brain would combust. My lungs expanded and I wondered how long I was supposed to hold this odd air inside me. Adam nodded, and I let it go, releasing smoke. My limbs were heavy and I felt good. Another task completed. Another line crossed.
We passed the joint around and around, and when that one was finished, Adam revealed its twin. Soon, we polished that one off, too. We were starving and silly. Adam made nachos and we danced around the kitchen to Motown music. Shaila and I sandwiched Adam between us, holding hands as he jumped up and down. We collapsed onto the couch and Adam cackled furiously when I insisted we watch a clip of pandas rolling down a hill.
“Jill! I can’t, I can’t!” he said, gasping for air. Tears rolled down his cheeks, he was laughing so hard. And through the haze I felt accomplished and satisfied. I had made Adam Miller laugh. It was I, the funniest freshman at Gold Coast Prep.
Shaila soon fell asleep on the couch. When Adam noticed, he turned to me and said, “Let’s sit outside.”
I followed him to the deck, but this time he walked down the stairs and to the white woven hammock on the edge of our yard, hung between two cedar trees. He motioned for me to join him. Slowly, I sunk down next to him so we were lying side by side, head to toe. His mouth was so far away but I could see it taunting me.
I tilted my head to the sky, trying to spot something I recognized. But a fog had settled over the inky night. There were only clouds. I was alone with my tangled nerves.
He rested his head against my feet and I said a silent thankful prayer that I had painted my toes a bright canary blue earlier that morning. The breeze from the bay picked up and I nuzzled into his legs. They were warm and the little hairs tickled my chin when I got too close.
“You’re not like everyone else,” he said.
“Neither are you.”
He stroked my feet, closing his fist around each toe. “You should come hang out with me and my friends sometime.”
“Okay.”
“They’d love you.”
“Maybe,” I said.
“I’ve been telling people about you,” he said.
A lump formed in my throat. “What do you say?”
“That you’re the shit.” He laughed and wrapped a whole hand around my foot. I bent it at the arch so he knew I was there. “That you’re one of us.”
I mulled over his words, unsure of what he meant.
“I see you looking at lunch,” he said. “The table will be yours one day. Don’t worry.” I felt a tiny prick of moisture and snuck a look at Adam just as he planted his lips on the tender side of my foot. The movement sent a spark through my body and heat rushed to my thighs. I flinched and in an instant, we were both on the ground in a pile of limbs and hair and blades of grass. Adam’s eyes found mine. They were fiercely blue, bloodshot. He wrapped his hand around my wrist.
“I have a girlfriend,” he whispered.
I inhaled sharply as my heart cracked open. “I know.” I ducked my head so my hair shielded me from his gaze.
“We’re friends. You and me.” The way he said it, the wordfriends, had a cosmic, tender pull, as if there were no greater honor he could bestow.
“Friends,” I said.
Adam touched his forefinger to my chin and raised my face to meet his. “Friends.” His lips softened into a smile. Headlights flashed, a signal Mom and Dad were home, and Adam released me. He entered the house and I was left alone.
THREE
“BIG PARTY TONIGHT?”Jared leans against the doorway in my bedroom and reaches into his hair, wrapping one of his curls around his pointer finger. They’re the color of ink, just like mine, and in photos we look like twins even though I’ve got three years on him.
