the field at nine. We should probably start bringing the shit over there.” Easton says, walking over and grabbing a handful of fireworks.
Almost the entire town, at least people from school, end up going to the field to watch the boys blow off fireworks. No one else is wealthy enough to buy the good fireworks. The most people get are the little snakes that look like pieces of poop, or pop rocks.
I swear I can hear Jackson sigh behind me, and I almost want to look at him to nod in agreement, but I’m still feeling off from our last encounter. So, instead, I sigh internally and follow the boys out into the field. I’m already sweating insane amounts and I feel gross. I can feel the dampness against my back and around the neckline of the sweatshirt. It feels like it’s suctioning to me, sucking the life out of me. It’s claustrophobic.
Honestly, I wish I could just call it quits for the night and go in my room. I’ve been feeling off today, and the thought of being around a ton of people from school only makes the feeling worse.
We make our way to the field about a mile away from the park, walking through weeds and listening to the crickets and noisy bugs shouting to each other through the field. This is something about home that makes me feel good. Comfortable. The loud bugs in the silent town. The muggy, hot air creating a layer of moisture across my skin.
Once we make our way to the area of the field where the weeds have been torn down—thanks to the suckers that Easton and Logan forced to come out here yesterday and clear out for them—we start getting things set up. People start coming within minutes of us arriving, one of them bringing a stereo with them. Tupac starts blaring from the speakers, and only a short time later I begin to smell the scent of marijuana lingering in the air.
Soon the entire field is filled up with our entire school, and even some younger and older people show up as well. Easton and Logan go to set up the first firework when it gets dark enough. I look around and whip my sweatshirt over my head when no one is looking. I really don’t think anyone will notice when it’s this dark out. There are no city lights nearby, and it makes this area almost eerily dark.
“Let’s get this shit started!” Logan laughs. Easton stands beside him with a lighter in hand, ready to light the first firework. I look behind me and see Jackson standing off to the side with a blank and uninterested look on his face.
“Is there something wrong with him?” I lean in and whisper to Easton.
He looks at me with a lifted brow, glancing over his shoulder and looking at Jackson. “He’s good.” He laughs.
Jackson narrows his eyes at me, and I quickly turn my head around to face Logan. He’s puffing on a joint, and when he sees me eyeing it, he lifts it towards me. “Wanna hit?”
I stare at it and contemplate. I have only smoked weed a couple times in my life, and each of them ended with me feeling giggly and tired afterwards. But after how today has been, maybe I do need to lighten up a bit. “Sure.” I mumble.
I grab it from him, pinch it between my thumb and forefinger and bring it to my lips. The instant scent of marijuana tickles my nose as I go and take a hit. The smoke fills my lungs, the urge to cough overwhelming as I try to hold the smoke in. I fail, coughing so hard my eyes water. The smoke bursts out of my mouth and nose, burning my sinuses. Easton and Logan start laughing at me, and I flick them off as I keep coughing. “Here.” I groan through a cough, trying to pass it to Easton.
“It’s Jackson’s hit.” He nods towards Jackson, and a part of my high already simmers out.
I turn around, watching Jackson stare at me with an expectant glimmer in his eyes. He knows the fear he puts off on people, and I think he even enjoys it.
“Here.” I whisper, nearly inaudible.
He keeps his hand at his sides, and I take a baby step towards him, arms lifted, joint extended. Jackson stares at my hand like it’s covered in dog shit.
“If you don’t want it, I’ll just pass it to Easton.” I snark