Crank Series: Crank Part 38

Water. Soak in.

Watch Mom and Scott drive away.

Bribe Jake to help.

I would never tell another soul about Brendan.

Direct Jake to dump the wheelbarrow.

Yank. Think.

Tug. Consider.

I would make love with Chase very soon.

Start to come down.

Disappear for a toot.

Notice my stash was two snorts away from gone.

I would make a cash withdrawal the next day.

Help Jake finish up.

Send him to 7-Eleven for c.o.kes and chips.

I would call Chase while he was gone.

No Answer

No sweat.

Okay, maybe a little sweat.

If I couldn't get crank from Chase who could I get it from?

I thought.

And thought.

And finally, one person came to mind.

I got on my bike, pedaled over to Trent's, hoping Robyn was home and in the mood to share some information. Vital information to a person desperate for a new connection.

Timing Is Everything

Mine was impeccable that day.

Robyn answered the door, quite noticeably strung.

Oh, hi. Trent's not home.

He went into town with Mom.

"Cool. I wanted to see you.

Can I come in?"

I eased through the door.

I don't know... um...

the house is a mess...

It was neat as a pin.

But it did smell like crank.

I suspected Trent wouldn't be home anytime soon.

What's up, Kristina?

Can't it wait till tomorrow?

"Relax. I'm not a narc." I reached into my pocket for the semimutilated bindle. Robyn's pupils went all the way black.

I thought you'd lost some weight.

It's better than the Atkins diet, huh?

"It's a h.e.l.luva lot more fun!"

We laughed and I offered to share the last of my stash. "Have a mirror?"

Don't tell me you're still snorting.

Have you ever tried smoking it?

She was the first to even suggest it.

Robyn the Reno High cheerleader proceeded to show me a whole new way to get down with the monster.

We Went into Her Room

Locked the door. Sat on the bed.

Robyn produced a V of crusty foil, tapped in the last crumbs of powder.

This little bit will go right to your brain and won't clog your sinuses.

Won't stay there, draining, little by little. Oh, no. You blow straight through the roof in one giant puff of smoke.

It's an awesome rush. And you won't stay awake for days.

She handed me the stub of a Slurpee straw and showed me how to hold it just above one end of the V.

When it starts to smoke, suck fast.

Hold it in as long as you can.

Robyn held a match just below the yellow powder. It browned, bubbled, smoked. A waft traveled up the V.

Here it comes. Don't let it get away.

Oh, G.o.d, that smells good!

It tasted nasty. But it took me higher than ever before. The monster pirouetted in my brain.

My turn. Don't hold the match too close to the foil. Crank can burn.

In seconds, Robyn was flying. Instant bonding. She didn't even blink when I asked if she could score.

You've got the money, I can get the crank.

For a small finder's fee, of course.

I expected no less. We planned to meet up the next day. I went home, feeling better than I had in a long, long time.

She Forgot to Mention

a couple of rather important things: Like how, if you exercised 1(riding my bike, for instance), your lungs fought to hold air.

I huffed and puffed all the way home.

Like how, when you came down (I had to eventually), your head screamed with pain and your body broke out in panicky sweat.

Like how your little brother's teasing (irritating at the best of times), would set you way off, make you jump off the deep end.

Like how parental concern (inquiring minds wanted to know), might suffocate you, might confuse you, might make you yell, "Just leave me the f.u.c.k alone!"

This Time

it was Scott who asked for the heart-to-heart. It was a rather one-sided conversation.

May I come In, Kristina?

Can we talk?

He hated confrontation. I could play the game two ways.

In-your-face. Or contrite.

What's going on? Your mom and I are worried about you.

I chose contrition. And feigned ignorance. "What do you mean?"

He came right to the point.