“Maybe I can help you feel something tomorrow night.” He leans forward and kisses me on the cheek. Normally that would send me reeling backward, but I’m too focused on the thought of Rory being angered at what I’m about to do, to notice.
19
Sabrina
After all these numb weeks, walking through the woods tonight floods me with more feelings than I’m prepared for.
But none of them make me feel alive; they all make me just feel more dead inside than ever.
I haven’t been this deep in this part of the woods since the boys left. Even when I found myself wandering down unmarked paths, it always led away from here. Away from them, away from the familiar grounds we once trod.
Together.
When I think about their leaving, it makes me feel as if the ground has opened up beneath my feet and is swallowing me into a big empty pit. The worst part is that I know that empty pit isn’t under my feet at all, it’s inside of me.
If it was an actual pit, then at least I’d know how to escape. At least then I’d know which way is up.
When I get to Tom’s appointed meeting spot, I see about half a dozen guys all gathered around a blazing bonfire that’s shooting flames up into the dark sky. There aren’t any other girls here, which honestly shouldn’t surprise me.
Tom walks toward me as soon as he spots me in the flickering light.
“Hey,” he says as he smiles and comes up to try to kiss me on the cheek again. This time I have the sense to back away and duck my face out of reach just in time.
“Where are Jess and Aimee?” I ask. “I thought they would be here too.”
“Nah, I only invited you.”
Of course he did. Not for the first time tonight, I start to think that maybe I shouldn’t have come.
“Why would you only invite me?” I ask suspiciously, even though I’m pretty sure I already know the answer—even if it isn’t what he’s going to tell me. I look up and see the other boys eyeing us from across the fire.
“Because, Sabrina; you’re the one who needs to feel something. Jess and Aimee aren’t struggling like you are. This will help.”
“I’m not struggling,” I say defiantly, even though we both know he’s right.
He laughs and puts an arm around my shoulders as he walks me toward the direction of the bonfire. “Yeah you are,” he says. “But this is going to make it better. I promise.”
I promise.
The words only serve to make me feel even more uneasy. I’ve had enough of empty words from boys.
When we get up to the bonfire, the others smile but don’t bother to introduce themselves to me. They’re much too busy pulling pieces off dehydrated clumps of mushrooms and passing them around.
Tom sits down on the ground by the fire and tugs me down alongside him.
“What is that?” I ask.
“Psilocybin mushrooms,” Tom answers. He grabs a handful from a pile sitting near the bonfire and holds them in front of me.
They’re odd looking, like the kind of mushrooms Alice would find in Wonderland … and probably also the sort of thing that’ll make me think I’m in Wonderland if I eat them. The whitish stems are all curled and curved and grown together into a big clump at the bottom that looks like a big root bulb. The caps of the mushrooms look like little phallic bells.
I watch as the boys shove small pieces into their mouths and chew as tiny flecks fall out from between their lips while they laugh.
I don’t know much about shrooms, but I think I know enough to think they’re all taking way too much. It explains the unease in the air. The sense of foreboding that is steadily growing.
“What is this supposed to do?” I ask. I’ve never taken a drug in my life, though I’m not about to admit it to Tom. Or to anyone else here.
“It’s supposed to make you feel something,” Tom says. “Stop worrying so much. What do you have to lose?”