by Eric Smith
With James I felt none of this.
It was different. It was more like somewhere within me, somewhere buried beneath conscious thought, I knew we were meant to know each other. I can’t explain how I knew this. I just did. It’s like my body was telling me the answer to a question my brain couldn’t think up in the first place. Maybe that’s why I didn’t take the acid. I wanted to see if I was right.
Shit started getting weird a little over an hour after James showed up. Everyone was giggling a whole lot more. The twins were obsessed with the bleachers. They walked up them. They walked down them. Across and back, talking intensely about golf clubs, debating the differences between a Cobra King and a Wilson Staff and other rich sports shit no real human gives an actual fuck about. I think Micah was going over his bass parts because he kept uttering “Shit” and “Fuck” to himself every ten seconds. Dropping acid before a performance sounds like the worst idea of all time, but I didn’t know him that well, so maybe this was a regular thing for him. Shannon had somehow gotten down the school’s flag and was rubbing it on her face, rolling herself into it and unrolling herself.
“You guys,” she proclaimed, “this is the softest thing I have ever touched in my entire life, and I’ve held the face of a brand-new baby in both hands.” Nobody responded. James was sitting dead center on one side of the bleachers, mainly looking at his phone but every once in a while looking up to check out how everyone was doing. I sat directly behind him, but all the way at the top next to Lucy, who appeared to be doing math homework. I could faintly hear music playing through her giant pink headphones.
I walked up to where she was sitting. “What are you doing?” I yelled. No response. I wiggled her headphones, and Lucy jumped out of her seat with both hands instantly balled into fists. She saw it was me and relaxed slightly, removing her headphones. Drum ’n’ bass was blaring violently loud through them. I glanced around at everyone. Nobody was fazed except James. He was turned around in his seat and looking up at us.
“What are you doing?” I asked Lucy again.
“Math,” she replied. “Wanna get my homework done so I can enjoy the entire weekend.”
“Are you sure tonight is the best night to be doing that? I mean, the acid is one thing, the music is another.” It was as if she had forgotten it was still on. She quickly turned down the volume on her phone.
“The music helps me concentrate. I can’t explain it. It’s like it babysits the part of my brain that can’t pay attention, allowing the other part of my brain to do what needs to be done.”
“Huh” was all I could muster. We stared at each other for what felt like an eternity, both with confused and concerned expressions on our faces. I shot a glance at James; he was still watching.
“All right,” she said, sitting back down, “get the fuck away so I can crank Venetian Snares and finish my trig. I’ll be down when I’m done.” She waited until I started walking away before putting her headphones back on and turning the music up to its original volume.
The twins were dragging these large black square mats into the center of the court and stacking them on top of one another. I made my way toward them, stopping just to the right of where James was sitting.
“Any idea what they’re doing?” I asked. He turned toward me, eyes still on them.
“I’d measure to guess they’re planning on doing something the opposite of brilliant, involving some kind of unoriginal male energy.” He looked at me. Looked all the way down and all the way up. “What’s your story?” he asked as the twins blew past us and up the bleachers.
“I don’t know how to answer that,” I responded, suddenly nervous.
“My apologies,” he started. “What I meant was, why aren’t you tripping?”
His question caught me off guard. A timid “What?” was all that escaped my lips. He stood up and faced me.
“Everyone else is starting to turn. Just wondering why you aren’t a vampire yet.” He walked past me and up the bleachers. I just stood there dumbfounded as I watched him dissuade the twins from jumping off the top-row bleachers to almost certain death. I looked around and noticed that Shannon had now gotten Micah to join her in snuggling up all over the flag. I could sense that any minute things were about to get strange.
A few blinks later and everyone was absolutely fucked. I was incredibly grateful for having chickened out on joining them. Don’t get me wrong, they all looked like they were having a blast, but something about the whole experience from this side of the sidewalk looked sad. Everyone looked sweaty. They all worked their jaws like they were chewing on something, but nothing was there. They talked incessantly about big plans and ideas. Maybe rooms like this just bring that out in people.
“This is it, man. Like, this show is it, you know? We’re gonna blow their goddamn minds. Word is gonna spread like the plague. Someone’s gonna tell someone who’s gonna tell someone who’s gonna tell, like, someone important. We’ll get signed. We’ll get huge,” Micah said. “My way outta this pizza box.”
“Oh my God, I know,” Shannon said. “I want to get out of here too, away from everything. Goodbye, New Brunswick, I’m too big for you.” She waited a beat. “Pizza box?”
I was very glad to be me in that moment, hearing their plans. But what were mine? Why didn’t I have lofty visions of an unknown future? Shannon’s always had them, since her brother moved away with their dad. She’s always wanted to leave this city, this life, and start over somewhere else where no one knew her. She wanted to be an actress or painter or musician; it was honestly hard to keep up as it changed daily, but at least she knew she wanted to do something. But me?
As a general antsiness began to befall the group, James rounded them all up in the middle of the court. He then pulled out a large iPad from his messenger bag and placed it in front of them. He put on an animated show about a character named Salad Fingers who liked to caress rusty spoons. Sober, I found it terrifying, but everyone else? They instantly became silent and deeply intrigued. James then pointed at me and motioned toward the back. We made our way up to the top bleacher.
“It is of the greatest importance that we keep them constantly amused. In a moment, anything can happen, and I don’t wish for anyone to get hurt.”
“Who even talks like that?” I blurted out, instantly embarrassed. But then I doubled down. “I mean, you talk like someone from another era. It’s fucking weird.”
“I appreciate your forthright nature.” He smiled at me. Then he shifted a bit, uncomfortable maybe. “I read a lot. I dig literature from all points in time. Been reading a lot about the gold rush as of late. Maybe that’s . . . something.”
I stared at him. He stared back, only now he seemed slightly smaller.
So he’s human. Just a boy playing dress-up. Putting words in his mouth and a funny hat on his head, trying to figure out who he is, like the rest of us.
The magic suddenly evaporated, and he was reduced to my equal. And he could see that I could see it. I looked away, down at everyone.
I looked back at him. “How do you know I’m not tripping balls?”
“Huh?” he replied, as if the wind had been knocked out of him.
“You asked me why I wasn’t tripping. But how do you know I’m not?”
He simply waved his hands toward the five people glued to the bright light on the screen in the middle of the room without taking his eyes off me.
“Fair. Do you do it a lot? Drop acid?”
“Fun fact: I’ve never actually done drugs myself.”
“Same,” I admitted, surprised.
“My parents split when I was young. They were addicts. Dad’s out of the picture now. I split time between my mom in a shitty apartment complex — where I’d see her get high — and my grandfather, who lives on the golf course where I met Shannon. I don’t know, you’re around something so much, it becomes you.”
I looked at him and admitted, “I’m completely average in every way. My parents are still happily married a
nd siblings well-adjusted. We’re not rich, but not poor, either. We just run around on the hamster wheel like everyone else, happy enough, I suppose. And that’s cool, and I know I should be grateful, but . . . that’s it. I don’t have big plans like all of . . . them. I just have this mediocre ability to simply survive.”
“I don’t think you’re mediocre.”
We talked for almost an hour straight. I don’t know what made me feel so close to him, so trusting of this stranger, but being in this weird situation with a dude actually listening, well, it made me want to open up.
We talked about movies and music and books. We had that in common, a love for the “trifecta,” as James called it. Our Venn diagrams did not intersect in the slightest, but we were both extremely passionate about the things we were into. He was into ’90s alternative music. I was into bands that were still in their twenties and hadn’t broken up and gotten back together to tour for the twenty-fifth anniversary of whatever bullshit record came out before I was born. The only movie we agreed was perfect was Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, but we disagreed on the ending. I said it was beautiful and hopeful. He said it was depressing.
It’s hard to explain the thrill of communicating with a total stranger about the various likes and dislikes you each have. I imagined an empty vessel, the shape of James in this case, and with each topic of conversation I was able to fill that vessel up with the things that made him him. It was like we were on a talk show, only both of us were the guests, just vomiting out information, not censoring ourselves. It was a rush. I felt high, but in a good way. In an organic way, without having to put poison in me.
“So wait,” I said, promptly switching subjects. “What is the deal with the dental floss?”
He exhaled. “It’s a long story, but it’s good.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.”
He blushed a little.
Am I flirting? Is this flirting?
“Well, I have this friend. His family is rich as shit. Every year they go somewhere. This year they went to Acapulco, and each of the kids was able to bring a friend along, which is how I got —”
“How long is this story going to take?” I interrupted. “Because I’m on the verge of unsubscribing.” He laughed incredibly hard at that.
“Okay, okay. So this vacation was fucked. The parents spent most of the time drunk and hanging out on the beach or at their pool, while the four of us spent most of our time drinking and trying to score weed and drugs and shit.”
“I thought you didn’t do drugs.”
“I don’t. Look, I spent an entire lifetime taking care of my mom, making sure she didn’t die and . . . all that. I’m sure it’s fucked me up. You know, I just . . . I just want to make sure everyone is okay all the time. You know? So, basically I went along.”
I wanted to hug him. I could see that he was good. There was real sadness and worry deep within. I wanted to tell him that it wasn’t his job to take care of the world. But I said and did nothing.
I hadn’t noticed until now that the way he spoke had changed. He no longer had that formal twang and cockiness hidden under a thin blanket of chivalry. It was almost like he was speaking like me.
Man, this guy.
“. . . so my friend was freaking out and had to figure out how to smuggle six tabs of acid back to the US.”
“Seriously?” I blurted.
“In retrospect, that wasn’t the smartest thing to do. I dunno. I just felt this overwhelming need to get the drugs back to the States so I could prove to myself I could do it. But I didn’t stop sweating until I had made it back through customs, picked up my bag, and was safe at home.” He looked at his slightly shaking hands. “Just thinking about it makes me all . . . panicky.”
I grabbed his hands in mine and said, “If you hadn’t done it, we might never have met each other. And I know this probably sounds wild, but I think we were destined to meet.”
He really looked at me, and I could see the mixture of sadness and caring in his eyes. I could feel the comfort of this moment, a subtle reprieve from whatever was going on in his life. We were two people floating in space, sharing a moment, trying to figure it all out. It felt like . . . home.
That’s when all hell broke loose.
Suddenly, someone was pounding on the main gym doors. Actually, several people were pounding. Panic set in. I looked down, and everyone was cuddled up in one another’s arms as if waiting for the bombs to drop. Calm as could be, James said, “Go hide them. I’ll deal with this.”
I quickly hustled everyone through the back doors to the locker room. I kept the lights off and told everyone to chill. I went back out to the gym and nodded at James. He opened the door and squeezed out.
I returned to the locker room to wait. It felt like an eternity. Micah was crying, and Lucy and Shannon were trying to console him. Waiting for the unknown is the worst type of anxiety. It’s like a blank page. It’s the sheer variety of possibilities that overwhelms me. I checked my pulse, not that knowing my heart rate would help in any way. It was just something to do.
The door opened and James beckoned for me to come out. “Nobody told me Micah was playing at the thing tonight.”
“Yeah, he’s in Shifter Focus. They’re playing at the thing tonight.”
“WHO THE FUCK TAKES ACID BEFORE A SHOW?”
“I DUNNO? MICAH?”
“Jesus Christ! I thought he was just another eccentric.” James looked genuinely frazzled. “Micah’s band is looking for him. They’re on in fifteen minutes.” Oh God. Nightmare city.
“He’s fucked out of his mind. I mean, they all are. What do we do?”
“Do you have any diazepam?”
I shrugged and started walking around.
James whipped out his phone. “Okay, I’ll look up alternatives. Meanwhile, can you calmly tell Micah he needs to start getting ready for his show? I’m gonna try to figure this out.”
I walked into the locker room. I turned on the light and acted the shit out of the moment.
“Hey, gang, coast is clear. Just the janitor,” I ad-libbed. “James told him there was a crew of us with detention, and our punishment was to miss the Battle of the Bands and clean up the gym. All is good.”
Give me my fucking Oscar.
I turned to Micah, who was sobbing uncontrollably in a puddle of his own emotions on the floor. “Speaking of the Battle of the Bands, Micah, I believe your band is playing shortly.”
“I KNOW!” was all I could make out between the sobbing. The oblivious twins were feeling each other’s muscles. Shannon was staring sadly at Micah, taking in all his sadness. Lucy was staring at him as well, but like Rosanna Arquette in Pulp Fiction during the adrenaline-shot-to-the-heart scene. There was a happy hunger in her eyes.
I snapped my fingers at Lucy and Shannon. “Maybe we can get Micah up off the floor already, huh?” The girls whipped into action, as I knew they would, hoisting the limp carcass of Micah into a standing position.
“Let’s walk this way,” I directed, moving back into the gym. James walked up to us, his hair looking even more disheveled than before.
“Any one of you have any Valium or Xanax? Prozac even?” Everyone shook their head no. “Fuck,” he muttered. We walked Micah back to his bass.
“You wanna put this on, honey?” Shannon asked him in her best motherly voice. Micah sniffled and nodded yes. Lucy and Shannon draped the heavy instrument over his body. He came to life a little bit, holding it. So far, so good.
“All right,” James continued, making his way toward us. “Where’s the nearest Whole Foods or, you know, hippie food joint, or fuckin’ pharmacy, even?”
Lucy raised her hand but didn’t say anything.
“Yes, Lucy,” I permitted. She put her hand down.
“There’s a Walgreens like two blocks away from the school. I hang out there on Thursdays.”
James looked at me. “Okay, one of us needs to go get some magnesium — apparently it’s a natural Valium su
bstitute — and one of us should stay here . . . just in case.” The way he said “just in case” shocked me back into reality a bit. Seven of us were illegally squatting on school grounds. Five were tripping on LSD. This was a terrible idea. What the hell were we thinking?
“I’ll get the magnesium,” I heard myself say. “I know the area. You seem to know what you’re doing with this stuff.”
James nodded, but I could sense that beneath his seemingly cool exterior he was just as rattled as I was.
“Gimme my keys.” I held my hand out. He turned and hustled to where he was sitting earlier in the evening. After a few seconds he said, “Uh, my hat is gone. Everything is gone.”
Real panic set in. Adrenal glands doing their thing. Fight or flight.
“I had everything in my bag and there’s nothing there.” He held up his bag, opening and jostling it for dramatic effect.
“Scavenger hunt,” Lucy said, as if remembering something from decades ago. “I think Handsome Eliot and his brother said something about a scavenger hunt.”
“Jesus Christ!” I yelled. I stormed into the locker room and grabbed the first twin by the arm. He screamed like a little boy.
“WHERE ARE THE FUCKING KEYS!” I shouted.
“Scary, scary, scary, scary . . .” he began to nervously chant, closing his eyes tightly as if awaiting impact.
The other one tiptoed up to me and said, “It’s somewhere in this room, I’m pretty sure, man.”
“THAT’S SO HELPFUL.” I stared daggers. He inched away like he saw the devil in me. I let the first one go and started opening the lockers. “LITTLE HELP IN HERE!” I shouted. Lucy and James came into the room. Within minutes the locker room was thoroughly trashed. We had found the hat, the iPad, and a few other items that belonged to James, but no keys.
