Heroine(50)

I’m used to waiting for my Oxy, and I almost enjoy those ten minutes or so of anticipation, knowing that relief is on the way and all I have to do is relax and enjoy it. But then Jadine pushes the plunger and I get everything, all at once, pure bliss in a rush that almost lifts me right up off the ground.

Fuck waiting.

One glance at my face and Josie is rolling up her own sleeve, though she doesn’t watch as her sister finds a vein and does the same for her, using a new needle. She makes a small noise, something in between either pleasure or pain, and I don’t know if it’s because of the poke or what comes after.

“Better?” Jadine asks, rubbing the inside of her sister’s arm almost tenderly.

“Better,” Josie agrees automatically, her voice soft and dreamy.

“How ’bout it, Edes?” Jadine asks, but at some point our host has dropped off to sleep in her chair. Jadine gets to her feet, tearing off a few more needles from the roll in her purse.

“I’ll leave you a few, sis,” she says. “Thanks for the car, and let me know when you’re ready to graduate.”

“Graduate?” Josie looks up from the string of needles tossed across the table.

“To heroin,” Jadine calls over her shoulder.





Chapter Thirty-Two


manipulate: to manage artfully or fraudulently, especially in regard to other persons

Josie is quiet in the morning on the ride to her place, breaking her silence only to give me directions, or to sniffle. Letting Jadine inject us had felt amazing, but what was in the needle had been weak and wore off quick. Neither one of us had the guts to try the needle without Jadine’s help. Instead a fair amount had gone up our noses before Josie thought to check the strength of the bottle she’d traded her car for. They were way weak—only 20s—so we blew through most of it, leaving us with red nostrils and a constant need to clear our throats.

It lingers into the morning, dripping out of my sinuses and down into my stomach. Not a good feeling, or a good taste. All I want to do is get home and stand in the hot shower.

“So what’s up with you and Luther?” Josie asks.

“What? Nothing,” I say, sounding as guilty as I looked last night standing over the sink with the Oxy Josie didn’t know I had.

“Left here,” Josie says, her voice thick and wet. “Okay, whatever on the Luther thing, but if you need to talk about boy stuff I can . . . I mean, like, maybe you don’t know a lot about . . . that.”

Josie is blushing as I make the turn, rolling into a neighborhood I’ve never visited and have no reason to go. Baylor Springs has always been the kind of place most people can’t afford to shop in, but I doubt I could even browse at Josie’s yard sales—if they do those in this town.

“I know enough about that,” I tell her. “What about you and Derrick?”

“Ha,” Josie says, confirming what I already knew.

“He doesn’t have a chance, does he?”

“Nobody does,” Josie says. “Guys have always been after what I’ve got, and that used to feel good. Now . . . I’ve got Oxy.”

“And?”

She shrugs. “And it makes me feel better than they ever did. You’ll see. Right now, Luther is a bright, shiny new thing. Everything he says is funny, or charming. But eventually you’ll fight—probably about something stupid like whether to watch basketball or baseball tonight—and then he’ll start to irritate you.”

I think of the way he looked at me last night by his car. I don’t think it’s something I could ever get tired of.

“Trust me,” Josie says, following my thoughts. “He will. And as far as that . . . all I can say is most of the guys I’ve been with had no idea what they’re doing. Oxy delivers every time.”

“Right,” I say, my own blush starting.

“Three houses down, the brick,” she says, but that’s not terribly helpful because I think everything here is brick. Or stone. I haven’t seen any siding in a mile and a half. I stop in front of the house she points at, putting the car in park.

“What does your mom do?” I ask her.

“Divorce,” she mutters, as she gathers her things.

“She’s a lawyer?”

“No, like she gets married and then gets divorced and then gets married again. Alimony is a full-time job.”

“Oh,” I say, unsure of what else fits.

Josie cracks the door, one foot on the sidewalk, then hesitates. “Do you wanna come in?”

“Huh?” The invitation is so unexpected, the idiotic syllable escapes before I can stop it.

“Hang out,” Josie says, flipping down the visor and grimacing when she sees how red her nose is. “Netflix. Maybe some pizza? Mom’s out of town. Jadine’s gone. I’ve got nothing to—”

“I can’t,” I say quickly. The idea of going into Josie’s house has me frozen. I could break something when I turn too quickly or tread too hard. In a house like that I doubt it would be as easily replaceable as the plate I shattered at Dad’s.

“Oh,” Josie says, her face shifting from the placid, detached look she had worn to something more guarded, a look I’ve seen on plenty of girls as they assess one another. “Fine.”