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I grab the candy bar and break off a piece. “Break that in half,” Apollo suggests.
“Apollo, do you remember how knackered I was back in the day? I can handle a tiny weed candy!”
“You say that, but the shit is different now. It’s strong.”
“I’d listen to him,” Michael adds.
I roll my eyes and break the piece in half, “Fine, I’ll be safe,” I grumble.
“My, how you’ve grown!” Henry quips.
Half an hour later, I’m not feeling anything other than an intense fascination with the party bus’s neon lights, “I’ll be fine if I try more. Besides, what’s the worst thing that can happen?” I reassure Apollo, popping the rest of the piece into my mouth.
“Sounds good, man,” he says dreamily. He grabs my hand and squeezes, “Thanks for being such a good friend,” he murmurs, a goofy smile sliding around his face.
I am acutely aware that my teeth are bones, and while the rest of my bones reside beneath my flesh, my teeth are outside in the open.
I can feel each tooth resting in each groove in my mouth. My face is fizzing like I’m wearing a cleansing mask, but I’m not. I just have fireworks for a face now. I think this is my life. I’ll go through the rest of my days, painfully aware of how vulnerable my teeth are, how they’re left out in the cold during the winter, and how they’re forced to chew my food. And what do I give them in return? Nothing.
“You okay?” Michael asks me.
“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”
“You just ranted about your teeth for ten minutes.”
“Shit, I said that out loud?”
“Yeah, man.”
“Am I the only one who can feel every bone in their face right now?” I ask.
“Yeah, man!” Apollo calls. He’s lying on his back on the party bus couch, absentmindedly munching on a bag of chips.
I run my hands across my face and expect my flesh to melt into globs like butter on a hot pan. My hands come back clean.
“Are you alright?” Henry asks. His voice comes out slow and distorted.
“I, uh, yeah. You don’t think these things can kill you, can they?” I grab the candy bar wrapper again and study the serving size, trying to do the math in my head.
“No one’s ever died from weed,” Apollo yells.
“You say that, but what if I’m the first?” It feels like the walls are closing in on me like we’re shrinking. My throat tightens tothe size of a pinhole. Am I wheezing? Wait, why can I feel my blood moving in my body?
“Vincent, you’re okay!” Michael barks. He shoots a look at Apollo, “He’s wigging, man.”
Apollo pauses and grabs me a bottle of water from the mini fridge, “Drink this. It’ll help you feel better.” My foot is shaking so hard that the seat is vibrating. I accept the water bottle from Apollo and take a shaky sip. This isn’t fun anymore.
Eventually, the guys haul me back to Lyndsey, unsure of what else to do.
Apollo knocks on the door of our house, and Lyndsey opens it. Her solution to maternity wear has been to order a bunch of men’s button-ups online.
Tonight, a black button-up hugs her growing baby bump, and she’s wearing loose jeans. Her hair’s in a messy bun. I thought she’d be asleep by now.
“What are you doing back here already? It’s only nine!”
“Vince is on one! Apollo gave him a weed candy and now he’s on one!” Henry yells.
“Don’t blame me!”
