Teen

The sun was gone, too far to seek at the late hour on Gatestone. But I went looking, putting on my jacket and stepping out, ignoring Eroica as she called out: “Where are you going?”

At the playground by the Catholic school, Sol Maris was there. She looked up from a loose printed page, wrinkled from its tribulations in her small backpack, and smiled as I took the swing next to hers.

“You’ll be yelled at again,” she teased.

“By Vesper, if anyone.” I took out a cigarette, lighting it with the matches Catherine put in my pocket. Blowing smoke away from the girl in the wig, I tried reading over her shoulder. “What do you have there?”

“Something I found online,” she said, handing it to me. “Read it, and pass me one.”

“One . . .” I took a second to understand. “You finally asked.”

“Long time coming,” she said. “Give me yours right now, before I change my mind.”

I gave her the dart, and watched her take her first inhale, hold with a grimace, and exhale smoothly, as if she were a veteran. “You didn’t cough,” I said, impressed.

“I’ve been imagining this for so long,” she said crisply. “First nail in the coffin. First of many, I reckon, if you don’t hurry up and start reading.”

I read what she had given me, not bothering to tell her the smoke was getting in his eyes. She probably knew, and that was appealing. I let myself be bathed in her vapors, and let the words on the page carry me off to another world.