I couldn’t bring myself to say “bum a smoke.” Not for my first one. I just couldn’t.
“Sure,” said Patrick. Sam stopped him. “What’s wrong, Charlie?”
I told them what was wrong, which prompted Patrick to keep asking me if I had a “bad trip.”
“No. No. It’s not that.” I was really getting upset. Sam put her arm around my shoulder, and she said she knew what I was going through.
She told me I shouldn’t worry about it. Once you do it, you remember how things looked on it.
That’s all. Like how the road turned into waves. And how your face was plastic and your eyes were two different sizes.
It’s all in your mind. That’s when she gave me the cigarette. When I lit it, I didn’t cough. It actually felt soothing.
I know that’s bad in a health class way, but it was true. “Now, focus on the smoke,” Sam said. And I focused on the smoke.
“Now, that looks normal doesn’t it?” “Uh-huh,” I think I said.
“Now, look at the cement on the playground. Is it moving?” “Uh-huh.”
“Okay … now focus on the piece of paper that’s just sitting there on the ground.”
And I focused on the piece of paper that was sitting on the ground.
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