The Year of the Flood (MaddAddam 2)

people to like us, even if we don't really care about them all that much? I don't know why, but it's true. I found myself standing there and smelling all those smells, and hoping a lot that Shackie and Croze thought I was pretty.

"Here it is," Shackie said. He brought out a piece of cloth with something wrapped up in it.

"What is it?" I said. I could hear my own voice: girly and squeaky.

"It's the surprise," said Amanda. "They got some of that superweed for us. The stuff Burt the Knob was growing."

"No way!" I said. "You bought it? From the CorpSeCorps?"

"Lifted it," said Shackie. "We snuck in the back of the Buenavista -- we've done that lots. The CorpSe guys were going in and out the front door, they didn't pay any attention to us."

"There's a loose set of bars on one of the cellar windows -- we used to get in there and party in the stairwell," said Croze.

"They've put bags of it in the cellar," said Shackie. "They must've harvested all the gro-op rooms. You could get blasted just breathing."

"Show," said Amanda. Shackie unrolled the cloth: dried shredded leaves.

I knew how Amanda felt about doing drugs: you lost control of your mind, and that was risky because it gave other people the edge. Also you could do too much, like Philo the Fog, and then you wouldn't have any mind left to speak of so no one would care whether you lost control of it or not. And you should only smoke with people you trusted. Did she trust Shackie and Croze?

"Have you tried this stuff?" I whispered to Amanda.

"Not yet," Amanda whispered back. Why were we whispering? The four of us were so close together that Shackie and Croze could hear everything.

"Then I don't want to," I said.

"But I traded!" said Amanda. She sounded fierce. "I traded a lot!"

"I've done this shit," said Shackie. He used his toughest voice for shit. "It's awesome!"

"Me too, you feel like you're airborne," said Croze. "Like a fucking bird!" Shackie was already rolling the shredded leaves, already lighting up, already sucking in.

There was someone's hand on my bum, I didn't know whose. It was creeping up, trying to find a way in under my Gardener one-piece dress. I wanted to say, Stop that, but I didn't.

"Just give it a try," said Shackie. He took hold of my chin and stuck his mouth down on mine and blew me full of smoke. I coughed, and he did it again, and I felt very dizzy. Then I had a clear blinding-bright fluorescent image of the rabbit we'd eaten that week. It was glaring at me with its dead eyes, only the eyes were orange.

"That was too much," said Amanda. "She's not used to it!"

Then I felt sick to my stomach, and then I threw up. I think I must have hit all of them. Oh no, I thought, what an idiot. I don't know how long all of that lasted because time was like rubber, it stretched out like a long, long elastic rope or a huge piece of chewing gum. Then it snapped shut into a tiny black square and I passed out.

When I woke up I was sitting against the broken fountain in the mallway. I was still dizzy, though not so sick: it was more like floating. Everything seemed far away and translucent. Maybe I can stick my hand through the cement, I thought. Maybe everything's lacework -- made of specks, with God in between, just like Adam One says. Maybe I'm smoke.

The mallway store window across from us was like a boxful of fireflies, like living sequins. There was a party going on in there, I could hear the music. Tinkly and strange. A butterfly party: they must be dancing on their spindly butterfly legs. If I could only stand up, I thought, I could dance too.

Amanda had her arm around me. "It's okay," she said. "You're fine." Shackie and Croze were still there, and they were sounding pissed off. Or Croze was, more than Shackie, because Shackie was almost as whacked as I was.

"So, when'll you pay up?" said Croze.

"It didn't work," said Amanda. "So, never."

"That wasn't the trade," said Croze. "The trade was, we bring the stuff. We brought it. So, you owe us."

"The trade was, Ren gets happy," said Amanda. "She didn't. End of story."

"No way," said Croze. "You owe us. Pay up."

"Make me," said Amanda. Her voice had that dangerous edge, the one she'd use on pleebrats when they got too close.

"Whatever," said Shackie. "Whenever." He didn't seem too bothered.