Love at 11 - By Mari Mancusi Page 0,43

hopped back on the motorcycle and hit the road. A few miles out we saw an orange glow on the horizon.

“What’s that?” I yelled at Jamie, to be heard over the roar of the bike. I pointed to the glow.

He slowed the bike to a stop. With the land suddenly quiet, we could hear the faint, but pounding beats of techno music.

“I think it’s a rave,” he said.

“Ooh, we should get video for our story since we already have the undercover camera set up. I mean, raves are great to show the effects of drug use.”

“Sure. No problem.” Jamie gave the bike gas, and we headed for the light.

The area for the rave was a roped-off section of desert, not seemingly any different from the rest of the wasteland except for the crazy generator-powered lights and pulsating sounds. Under a small tent, a DJ spun techno and house tunes for a group of about fifty college-aged kids. They were all dressed like Lulu—with extra baggy pants, colored sneakers, and gobs of plastic kids’ jewelry worn around wrists and necks. Most had several piercings—some in pretty interesting spots.

We paid our ten dollars and walked past the ropes. Someone had lit a huge bonfire and the ravers were dancing around it like shamans at an Indian tribal dance. I was delighted. This would make great video for our story.

We wandered around getting shots of the ravers. No one seemed to mind being videotaped—in fact, several kids begged us to turn the camera on them so they could watch themselves through the view screen after a rewind. We were happy to oblige. A few were curious as to what the video was for, but a vague mention of some kind of reality something or other worked to appease them. This was the YouTube generation. They were used to cameras invading every part of a person’s existence.

I walked over to a vendor and waited in a ridiculous line to pay an obscene five dollars for a tiny bottle of water. As I headed back to Jamie, bottle in hand, I saw him talking to a small blond girl in pigtails, dressed in a candy-colored jumper. Jealousy burned my gut. After all, if Jamie were going to cheat on his fiancée, it should be with me. Not some random chick.

“Who was that?” I asked. The girl had scurried away at my approach. Little desert rat.

Jamie shrugged. “No one.”

I narrowed my eyes. “You look like you were having a pretty intense conversation for no one.” The moment the words left my lips I regretted them. Who was I to say who Jamie could talk to or not? Even if we were together, I was not that kind of girl. What had gotten into me? Jealous of the attention someone else’s guy was getting from another woman? Lame, Maddy. Truly lame.

“If you must know, she was trying to sell me drugs.” My eyes widened. “That girl? She was a drug dealer?

She didn’t even look sixteen.”

He shrugged. “I guess they must be slacking down at the drug dealer licensing department.”

“Ha, ha.” I took a sip of my water and offered some to Jamie. He slugged a good portion down. I grabbed it back. After paying five dollars I wanted more than one sip. “Still, that’s sad, don’t you think? I mean, she could be one of Lulu’s friends.”

She probably was one of Lulu’s friends, now that I thought about it. I guess thank God for small favors that my sister hasn’t gone down that road. Yet.

“Dude, you took the wrong water bottle.” A dread-locked, scrawny guy with really weird tattoos interrupted as he stalked over in our direction. He held out another, identical-looking bottle and looked expectantly at the one I was holding.

“Oh.” I looked at the two bottles. Between Jamie and me, we’d drunk most of ours. “Oh well. Might as well keep it, right? I mean more for you that way.”

Scrawny guy frowned. What was his problem? “Dude, I paid like thirty bucks for that.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You paid thirty bucks for water? I think you got ripped off, man.” I laughed and took another sip.

He rolled his eyes. “Not for the water, idiot. For the drugs dissolved in it.”

I choked.

“What drugs?” Jamie demanded. “Did you dose her drink?”

“Dude, it’s my drink. You think I wanted to waste my X on this chick? She’s not even cute.”

I sputtered, spitting the water out of my mouth onto the ground. Ohmigod. Ohmigod. Ohmigod. I’m drugged. I’d been