high-end expensive—the kind of thing my mom cut out of Sunset magazine and put on Karl's night table when he was having a good run at blackjack—but the place was disgusting. The hardwood floors were stained and sticky with spilled who-knows-what, and the upholstery on the couches and loungers was filthy. Take-out bags and boxes lay everywhere, and the room smelled like an odd combination of old food and something else pungent that I couldn't really place.
Nate and I weren't alone. A tweener boy sat in one of the loungers playing a Wii game that involved Pikachu and I think Sonic the Hedgehog battling for dear life.
"Dude, you've got to see this!" the kid said to Nate as we entered. Then he saw me. "Hey."
"Hey," I said.
Shouldn't he be in bed?
"That's Thackery, my little brother," Nate said as he rummaged through one of the coffee table drawers.
"Great," I said. I couldn't help asking what seemed like the obvious question. "Um ... are your parents around?"
Thackery snorted. Nate shot him a look, then turned to me. "Not so much. Mom's in a coma and Dad's out with his girlfriend."
I shook my head. I felt completely disoriented. "What? Your mom's in a..."
"Coma," Thackery finished. "It's okay; you can say it. It's been five years. Yes! Pikachu is going down!" He jumped onto the cushion of the rocker and did a little victory dance.
"Car accident," Nate said, completely matter-of-fact. "Drunk driver. The other guy, not her."
"Oh my God, that's horrible," I said. "And your dad..."
"Got a new girlfriend about a year ago. I think he feels guilty about it, so he mostly stays at her place. There's a housekeeper who comes in and cooks for us and stuff." Nate must have caught me looking around at the squalor in the room, because he laughed. "She won't even touch this room. Says it's too far gone for her. The rest of the place is nice, though. Really. Aha!"
He grinned and pulled out a baggie of small tapered paper rolls and a lighter. "You smoke?"
I froze. Nate was asking if I smoked pot. Nate was holding a baggie of pot, and he was asking if I smoked pot like he would ask if I drank water. "Surely you drink water, ma'am, do you not?" "Why of course I drink water! Who doesn't?"
Except I didn't smoke pot. I had never seen pot except in the movies, and I had never smoked anything in my life.
Nate read the answer in my face. "You don't, do you?"
Did he look disappointed?
"No," I said. "I mean, I never have or anything..."
"It's cool. You don't have to. It's just that, uh"—he glanced at his brother, who was back into another round of the video game—"certain... things are really, really good when you're high."
Certain "things"? Did Nate want me to take drugs and have sex? I didn't care if leaving would make me look like a dork; this was getting insane. I had to get out.
"I don't ... think I'm ready for ... certain things. I don't know, maybe I should just go."
"No, no, I'm not talking about ... I just mean..." Nate seemed embarrassed to have to spell it out, especially within earshot of Thackery, but he did. "Making out is really good when you're stoned. It's more intense."
More intense? If kissing Nate got any more intense, I'd be the one slipping into a coma. Ouch—I winced at my own thought. Way inappropriate.
"Not that you have to do it," Nate said. "At all."
He meant it. I could tell. I liked that. And I really didn't have any desire to try ... mostly. Except for the part of me that was a little curious. Especially since for Nate it seemed to be a prelude to really good making out.
"What's it like?" I asked.
"Really cool," he said. "It's not scary or weird or anything. It's just mellow and ... nice."
I reached out, and Nate handed me the baggie. I took out one of the joints. It had an odor to it. I recognized it as the pungent smell in the room I couldn't place before.
"Nice, right?" Nate asked. "Do you want to try?"
There was no pressure in the question; I could see that. I could also see that Nate was kind of hoping I'd try.
And I was curious.
And it's not like I was alone. Nate was with me, and he knew all about this stuff.
And it's not like a couple puffs would hurt me, right?