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slams into me hard. No
way could she have heard
the commotion. “Great
song, but Darla wants you
to turn it down. What is it?”
Erica reaches for the volume.
“Bad Girlfriend.” By Theory of a Dead-
man. I just downloaded it today.
She looks at me, and her eyes
repeat a too-familiar story.
Erica is wired. Treed, in fact.
I TOTALLY KNOW TREED
In sixth grade, the D.A.R.E.
dorks came in, spouting stats
to scare us into staying straight.
But by then, I knew more than
they did about the monster
because of my dad and his women,
including my so-called mom.
Her ex, too, and his sister and cousin.
Plus a whole network of stoners
connecting them all. The funny
thing is, none of them have a fricking
clue that I am so enlightened.
Tweakers always think no one
knows. Just like Erica right now.
“Shit, girl. You go to dinner lit
like that, you’re so busted.
Darla may be a bitch. But she’s
not stupid, and neither is Phil.”
