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“Actually,” I say, because we’ve shared so much today already. Might as well show him more of my weird brain. “I had this list. This success guide I made four years ago that mapped out everything I should do before graduating. I’d forgotten about it for a while, until today. And I’m realizing I missed out on some quintessential rites of passage. Not pot, necessarily, but—other things.”
It’s a bit cathartic to mention the guide out loud. But what I’m wondering is how a friendship with Neil McNair fits into that list—because I’m pretty sure it doesn’t.
“Like what?”
“Prom, for one. I didn’t go.” Part of me wondered if it would have been fun without a date, without that perfect high school boyfriend, but in my head, the perfect prom was with a date who was deeply in love with me. Instead I wallowed in my FOMO all night, scrolling through social media while rereading my favorite Delilah Park, trying to ignore the twinge that felt like regret.
“You didn’t miss much. Brady Becker was prom king, Chantal Okafor was prom queen, and Malina Jovanovic and Austin Hart were nearly asked to leave because they were, uh, dancing too suggestively, according to Principal Meadows.” He rubs the back of his neck. “And… Bailey was really quiet the whole time, so it made sense when she said she wanted to break up a few days later.”
I knew they’d broken up somewhat recently. I had a couple classes with her, but she was always pretty quiet.
As though anticipating I might apologize, Neil adds, “It’s okay. Really. We didn’t have much in common. We’ve even been able to stay friends.”
“Spencer wanted to stay friends too, but we barely had fun even when we were together.” I heave a sigh, digging my feet into the pavement. It’s strange to tell him all of this, and yet I find myself wanting to. “In hindsight, the relationship was mostly physical. Which was fun, but I wanted more than that.”
Neil gives a little cough. “You two seemed… happy? You were together for a while.”
“Not the same as being happy.”
If there’s anything I’m learning today, it’s that every kind of relationship is complicated. Which explains why I’m here with Neil and not with my best friends. Their words hit me again. I’m not here because I’m obsessed with him—I’m here to finally end this between us. Only then will I be able to move on from it all. At least, I hope so.
“So many relationships are ending,” I continue, not wanting to linger on Spencer. “Darius Vogel and Nate Zellinsky broke up last week, and they’ve been together since sophomore year. I guess it’s tough to stay with someone who’s going hundreds of miles away.”
“Is that really what you think?”
I shrug, unsure of the answer, wanting another subject change. “Let’s go in.” Today’s already been filled with plenty the two of us never would have done. If I want to make it a real send-off, we might as well cross something off Neil’s list. That’s what Howl is becoming: a goodbye to high school and the boy who drove me bonkers for most of it.
Neil grins.
The guy behind the counter looks like a typical Seattle hipster, plaid shirt and thick-framed glasses, well-groomed facial hair. The lights are bright, and the counter is stocked with all sorts of edibles. Pipes in all colors and designs line the walls.
“Neil, my man!”
“Hey, Henry,” Neil says, and as both of us register that Adrian is there with him—“Hey!”
The Quinlan brothers are holding twin containers of food. Adrian waves us over.
“Our mom doesn’t love that he works here, but she still wants to keep him well fed,” he says by way of explanation. “And I’m dead, so. You guys still alive?”
Neil nods and tells him our plan.
“Sick!” Adrian exclaims. To Adrian’s credit, he doesn’t send any odd looks my way.
“Let me know if you need any help,” Henry says cheerfully, evidently not worried about selling pot to minors.
We browse the edibles and the selection of pipes, many of which look like works of art. There are caramels and cookies and lollipops, pie and gummies and even lip balm.
I am in a pot shop with Neil McNair. What is my life?
“Do you want me to ask if they have pot-laced cream cheese and a big ol’ spoon?” Neil whispers.
“Shut up,” I say around a laugh, though that does sound like it could be good smeared onto a bagel.
Neil taps his fingers on the glass case. “What would you recommend to two people who are relatively new to the world of marijuana?” He could not sound like more of a dork if he tried, oh my God.
“Are you looking for edibles, or something to smoke?”
“Edibles,” I say. Much less conspicuous.
