I, for one, can't wait until she leaves again. Hell, maybe she'll be gone by the time I get up in the morning. I plan to do a lot in the way of self-medication.

Funny term for getting screwed up to the point of passing out. I need to be that messed up to get to sleep at all tonight. I'm totally wound.

Besides, I want to feel desired for more than what I can bring to a campaign. A campaign that only fills our lives with pain.

100.

There's a Party Up on Figueroa. That's a mountain not too far from here, but far enough so parents and cops rarely want to take the drive, especially at night.

Even if they did, we have our favorite party place, well off the main road, and a mile or so back on a dirt track, not something they'd happen upon.

Great place for hide-and-seek.

Great place for a kegger, too.

And that's our destination.

Mick drives like a maniac, which would be all right except I really, really want to get high, and smoking dope and speeding don't exactly go hand in hand.

I could be bitchy, and it may come to that. But I'll try sweet talk first.

"If you slow down a little, I'll roll a nice big joint. And after we smoke it, just maybe I'll mess around with your nice big joint too."

Okay, so it isn't eloquent, but it works.

101.

He Slows To right around the speed limit as I fumble under the seat, searching for his stash.

This slow enough for you?

Damn, I feel like an old woman.

"Ha. Sound like one too."

Finally, pay dirt. I reach into the baggie, extract a big bud.

Hurry up with that, would ya?

Hey, I saw you on TV tonight.

I keep crumbling dope.

"Really? You watch the news?"

No frigging way.

He snorts a half laugh.

Nah. I was channel surfing.

Ah, but of course.

"So how'd I look? Like a movie star or what?"

He reaches for my left boob.

More like a rock star, baby.

102.

God, he's a player. A lousy player. "Give me your lighter."

Delectable smoke fills the cab.

Hey, man. You never told me your mom was so hot.

My body stiffens and I shove his hand away. "Shut the fuck up." I take a giant hit of pot.

Jeez. Pushed the wrong button, huh? Sorry. But she is.

"Mom is not hot! She's fucking frigid!" Why is this bugging me so effing much?

Okay, okay. Really sorry.

Now give me the damn doob.

103.

Needless to Say I don't feel much like messing around with Mick's "nice big joint,"

not even after killing off the nice big joint wrapped in a rolling paper.

Maybe after a beer or ten.

And hey, lucky me, looks like the beer's flowing up here on Figueroa Mountain.

Twenty or so vehicles are parked helter-skelter, like misaligned zipper teeth. Some I recognize.

Some I've never seen before.

It's an older crowd. Several people graduated with Mick, and a few last year. Not too many my age. Fine by me.

I see enough of those people every day at school. Who wants to socialize with them? What I want is to leave them in my dust.

Suddenly a familiar whine threatens my jocular mood.

104.

Hey, Mick! I hoped you'd be here, even if you had to bring her along.

You guessed it. My delightful friend, Madison. She rubs up against Mick like a hungry cat.

Is she trying to piss me off?

And here I just got unpissed.

Two choices. Jump into the ring.

Or turn away, move on to that really cute guy over there.

I turn to assess Mick's reaction to the fur-free feline at his arm.

He looks vaguely intrigued, and totally unconcerned about me.

So fine. No use getting into a scratchfest. I wander over to the keg, top off a twenty-ounce cup, and go say hi to Prince Charming.

105.

Turns Out He's not particularly charming, but at the moment, charm is not a prerequisite. I'm not looking for a life partner, just a good time.

"What's up?"

His eyes, the color of creamed coffee, hold mild interest.

Not much. You a friend of Mick's?

He tips his head in the direction of said Mick.

"Not really."

Hmm. Got the idea you were.

Didn't you come together?

He smiles at the loaded question. I mean, didn't you arrive together?

"Doesn't make us friends.

But yeah, we did actually."

My turn to smile. "And we've come together a few times too."

He looks me up and down like he's shopping.

I see. Any plans to come together tonight?

106.

"Nope." I part my lips bravely.

"Not with him, anyway."

He nods his head, stands.

How's that beer? Need a refill?