Page 65 of The Last Special Thing

She shot Weston a text before he summoned another wellness check for her.

Amelia

Don’t text my mom again, weirdo. Can’t today, but I’ll see you this week.

She slammed her phone down and got out of bed. Her body cramped all over, and it took an embarrassingly long time to reach the en-suite.

Opening her medicine cabinet, she pulled out a variety of pills in different sizes and colors. On the counter, she spilled the Adderall that she had removed from her car, a birth control pill, a multivitamin to help mitigate the damage she was causing in her life, and two Tylenol pills to help with the body soreness.

How many people took this many pills? Without them, who would she be? Someone different? Someone better? Someone worse?

She tossed them down her throat, chasing them with sink water, ending her internal self-analysis. An assessment was better for a day when she didn’t feel like death.

Stepping into the shower, she cranked the heat and set the steam. It was the closest she could get to a spa without leaving the house. She fought to remember the last time she had showered. It had been before the rave, which was now, she countered, two days ago. Had it really been two days?

The water beat against the glass door, and she leaned into the calming sound. A break from the perpetual chaos she had been living in. The steam filled the shower, clouding her vision and activating a rose-petal shower bomb. She inhaled, thankful the residual ketamine had finally subsided. She would put herself back together again, one piece at a time. Her fingers raked through her dirty blonde hair, and she massaged a hair mask to the frayed ends.

Scooping out clay for a face mask, she took her time, rubbing it into each area: cheeks, nose, chin, and forehead. Letting the charcoal detoxify her skin, she worked on her body.

With every inch, she recalled the sticky rave floors, dried sweat, and hungry kisses. She rinsed and slid her razor against her legs, section by section. Her routine was slow and methodical, peeling back the layers until she felt new.

While it didn’t fix everything, Amelia felt better than she had in days. Almost normal. She didn’t know how much she enjoyed being normal until she spent so much time unlike herself.

Dressed in loungewear, she fell onto her plush mattress and called Art.

“What are you doing right now?” She inspected her nails, the next order of business.

“Running errands, then I have work.” As an afterthought, he added, “Hey, you want to drop acid tomorrow? I still have some left.”

She scoffed. “I don’t think dropping acid should be a casual plan you make.”

“Okay, I formally invite you to go on a trip of a lifetime tomorrow. No passports required. Bring an open mind and your beautiful face.”

The way he teased her made every bad idea sound like a good one. She paused in consideration. Her body still felt like it had been in a head-on car crash from the ecstasy.

“It’s not like it's needles. It’s a little tab for an epic adventure.” His words were gentle.

Art had done both at the rave. Certainly, taking one drug would be fine. Then, she would take a break. She would eat clean, hit the gym, and avoid all brain-altering substances. Be a better daughter, be a better friend to Weston.

“I can be there at ten?” she asked.

“Better make it noon. I have the late shift tonight.”

“Cool, will do.” Then she asked, “Cherry red or indigo for my next nail color?”

“Cherry red, definitely. They’ll still be like that for my show, right?”

The inaugural Honey Cat show was coming up, and she buzzed in anticipation of Art’s big performance. “Cherry red for Honey Cat it is.”

“Dope. Love you, Princess,” he drawled out the term of endearment.

“Love you more.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

The next afternoon, Art and Amelia met at the picnic table. The same one where they had smoked weed a month ago. A group of surfers walked by, then the park remained eerily empty.

Art took out a purple blotter paper with white psychedelic swirls. He carefully pinched the strip of acid, which resembled a Listerine strip more than it did a drug. Unlike the rest of her experimentation, this was the first one she couldn’t see. Her chest pounded, warning her this was not a good idea.