the block. Heather? Who knows?
 
 Who cares? I’m birthday partying
 
 with the monster, and we’re
 
 starting right this minute.
 
 OMG. The rush is beyond
 
 what I expected—hot then
 
 cool, and my head lights up
 
 like casino neon. Startling.
 
 Another whiff. Double or
 
 nothing, two somehow more
 
 than twice as good as one.
 
 I open my window to
 
 let the smoke escape,
 
 notice Scott’s car come
 
 puttering up the street.
 
 Can I get away with one
 
 more? [Go for it, quick!]
 
 I turn on a fan, spray a
 
 big dose of Ozium, dash
 
 to the bathroom to do
 
 the big three—you know,
 
 shit, shave, and shower.
 
 Crude? Yeah. And bound to
 
 get cruder as the evening
 
 progresses. It’s Bree’s
 
 birthday too, and for
 
 a change I’m going to
 
 let her cut loose. After all,
 
 you only turn eighteen once.
 
 All Spiffy