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Aiden stopped on the grass, put Johnny down, and watched Caro walk with the kid toward the house.
He hadn't expected to have any fun at this stupid cookout, but Caro was cool. She worked at some little pizza place in town, and she'd told him about some hangout for teens where she liked to go. For a few minutes there, he'd almost felt normal.
Then he'd thought about that teen hangout. He could probably find something there, something he could use to take the edge off.
And now, he was thinking about getting high. Getting lost in the high, where all the bad feelings were dulled, all the good feelings better.
What he'd told the dude at rehab earlier that day was totally true. He didn't want to need drugs. But he did need them. Right now, he needed them bad.
He pressed his hands together, then pulled them apart. He wanted to punch something.
Fine. Someday, he'd quit. He wasn't going to lose his future to painkillers. He wanted college, a good job, a family, and he wasn't going to be a screw-up parent like his mother. He would definitely quit. Just not today. Not yet. He was still in high school, still enjoying the best years of his life. No reason why he couldn't party, have a little fun before he had to behave like an adult. And besides, this feeling—being sober? It was awful. Painful. His stomach was all jumbled again. His whole body ached. Before he'd tried drugs, sober was fine. Now... He couldn't do sober now. Not anymore. Not for long.
He and Caro had taken the little kid for a walk. Johnny kept trying to shove sticks and crap in his mouth. Was that normal? Maybe the kid was brain-damaged or something. When he suggested that, though, Caro only laughed.
"That's what babies do."
He thought it was weird. This was all weird. The fact that his dad was friends with all these people in New Hampshire was weird. It was like his dad had this whole other life Aiden knew nothing about. He wasn't sure what he thought about it. But Caro was fun and pretty, so the night wasn't a total bust.
Caro climbed the steps to the porch and handed Johnny to his father. Not his real father, though. The kid was really dark. Aiden would guess black, except his hair was straight. So maybe Indian or Middle Eastern or something. And the mom and dad were both totally white. So at least one of them wasn't the kid's actual parent. And even though the skin color was wrong, Johnny looked like his mother, the lady who lived here. Reagan. It was the bone structure, the shape around the nose and mouth. So obviously the dude the kid called Dada wasn't actually his dad.
At least Aiden knew his real parents. At least he didn't have to learn to live with any step-parents. That was something.
That might change if his father and Sam continued on their path. It was pretty obvious they both wanted to be more than friends. How long until they gave up pretending?
Dad walked away from Sam, probably because he saw Aiden coming. Didn't want him to get the wrong idea, or the right idea. Like Aiden was an idiot and didn't see right through their stupid charade. She should just move in, stop pretending this trip to the backwoods of nowhere had anything to do with Aiden and getting him clean.
Rage poured over him. Hot. Stickier than the humid air. Dad didn't care about him. He just came here to see Sam.
Crap, Aiden needed an oxy. Just one to make all these feelings fade. Better yet, two so he could enjoy himself. And think straight again.
The thought of it started his hands shaking like he was right back where he'd been on Saturday.
His father jogged down the back porch steps and across the yard. "Hey, kiddo. How was your walk?"
He fought the urge to scream at his father, to shove him, to run... But Aiden wasn't mad at his dad. He just needed...something. Maybe somebody'd brought tequila. He wasn't a fan of the swill, but just a sip or two to keep him from wanting to kill everybody in sight.
He forced a smile, knew it must look totally fake. "Fine. The kid likes me."
"Obviously. You get your charm from your old man."
Dad was being nice again. For months, he'd painted his father as this cruel, hateful tyrant. All his rules, all his questions. But these few days with him had reminded him that his dad was actually a pretty cool guy.
Aiden was the screw up. He'd ruined everything.
Maybe just a beer. Somebody must've brought beer. Everybody drank beer at cookouts. Even Dad did that. Aiden scanned the patio for a cooler, for evidence of alcohol. Saw those red plastic cups, which could have had anything in them.
But he could practically smell beer, keg beer dripping over the edges. Reminded him of the party Friday night. Beer everywhere, and he'd had his share, especially after he dropped the acid. He'd done LSD before, but it had never been like that. He'd hated the feeling, like he couldn't figure out what was real, what wasn't. Like his body would never be the same. He'd hoped the alcohol would soften its effects, but no. The beer hadn't helped, and then... Then he'd started laughing. And he didn't remember what happened next. Knew he must have freaked out, based on the texts he'd read on his way to rehab this morning. All his friends had said was that he'd started screaming stupid stuff, got really aggressive.
No. Not thinking about that.
Aiden didn't like beer, but his mouth watered anyway. He'd have to drink a lot to feel better, but it would be worth the hangover.
"You okay?"
He looked at his dad again. "Yeah. Fine."
"The girl's pretty."
"She's cool. Is there food yet? I'm starving."
A lie. He wasn't a bit hungry. He was...he didn't know what he was. If he didn't get something to take the edge off soon, he'd go crazy.
"We're about to eat." Dad looked at the patio, where guests were headed inside. "Too many flies out here so we're eating in."
The flies were nothing compared to the crazy stuff flying around Aiden's brain.
They climbed up to the patio, and Dad stepped aside to let Aiden go first into the house. He'd have preferred to stay outside until this...this urge passed. It usually did. The ache was always there, but sometimes his cravings were so bad, he had to hide. Didn't want Dad to see what a weak little loser he was.
He wanted to run. To escape. But he had to stay, be nice, be cooperative. Had to prove to his father he could be trusted.
He told his dad he had to use the bathroom, and his father pointed him in the right direction. He closed the door behind him and opened the medicine cabinet. Nothing in there.
He looked under the sink. They had to have something. But this was a guest bath. They probably kept the good drugs in the master bathroom, and that'd be upstairs.
He came out of the bathroom and looked at the staircase, then toward the living room. Caro waved from her seat on the couch. Okay, he'd try later. Stupid. He should have thought of that when everybody was outside.
Seriously, what was wrong with him, thinking about stealing drugs from his father's friends? That Brady dude was the police chief. Aiden had to get a grip.
He fixed himself a plate in the kitchen. Cheeseburger, potato chips, and some kind of pasta salad. The adults pushed chairs around a kitchen table, but there was no room for him. Not that he wanted to sit with them anyway. Aiden took his plate to the living room, where Caro was seated on the couch by herself.
Aiden set his plate on the coffee table. "You need anything? I gotta get a drink."
She looked at her plate, then at his. "I'm all set, but you should get yourself a brownie. They're wicked good."
He nodded like he gave a crap about the stupid brownies. Unless they were laced with something. He stared at Caro a little too long. She was young, she was normal. Maybe she could help him out. He smiled like he was about to share a joke. "Where can a guy get a beer around here?"
She sorta smirked. "Haha."
That was helpful. He returned to the kitchen, grabbed a Sprite while he checked out the other drinks. Tea, soda, water. No alcohol.
He was totally screwed.
He chose a brownie, not because he wanted one, but because Caro had said to, and he didn't want to be a jerk.
He sat in the chair beside her and dug into his food. The burger and chips were good, but the pasta salad tasted gross. At least the food took a little of the edge off.
"Tell me about that hangout, the Nuthouse."
Caro swallowed her bite. "Yeah. Stupid name, I know. It's attached to the pizza place. There are arcade games and pool and ping pong and stuff."
"It's just for teens."
"Yeah. The church runs it."
"Oh. So it's all church kids?"
"Everybody goes."
"Not much to do in this little town."
She shrugged. "Probably not compared to New York."
It might be just what he needed. Where there were teenagers, there were drugs. He just had to find the place, to find the right person. But he could. Matty'd supplied most of his drugs, but he could usually tell who used and who didn't. He was pretty sure Caro didn't, but she could still help him. "Where is it?"
"You planning to go?"
He shrugged. "Kinda boring hanging out with Dad all the time. I thought he might take me."
She eyed him like she wasn't sure. "It's downtown. Did you see the old white church with the steeple?"
He'd seen it on their way back from rehab earlier that day. He nodded.
"It's next to that."
"So not far from the lake?" He couldn't remember.
She shrugged. "I don't know. Couple miles, maybe."
"How late's it open?"
"Midnight in the summer."
Could he get there by midnight?
"I'd offer to go with you tonight, but I have to be home early."
"Oh." He took another bite of his burger, tried to ignore the fresh wave of craving. Just thinking about what he might find at the Nuthouse had his hands shaking again. He needed something, anything. "It's weird they're not drinking beer. Nobody drinks in New Hampshire?"
Caro laughed. "Not this crowd. Why, do you?"
"Not much."
She watched him a minute. Her eyes squinted. "You prefer other stuff?"
Now she was talking. "Can you hook me up?"
She set her plate down. "I stay away from that."
Great. Was she the type to go running to her mommy and daddy about the druggie at the party? He hoped not. The way she was looking at him made him think there was more she wanted to say. He didn't want to hear it.
"My dad's in prison for dealing."
Great. Everybody had a story.
"My mom's an addict, and my sister..."
The sister. Caro'd mentioned her. Maybe she could help him out. What had Caro said about her earlier? She lived nearby. If the Nuthouse didn't work out, he could track her down. He just needed to figure out her name, her address...
"My sister's clean now, so stay away from her."
Was his need written so clearly on his face? "I don't even know her."
Caro grabbed her brownie and took a bite.
He bit his, too. Then looked at it. Chocolate and caramel. It was delicious.
"Wicked good, right?" Caro's smile was back.
"Yeah."
"Samantha's specialty."
Sam. Of course. He thought about putting the dessert down in protest, but it really was good.
"So like, just so you know," Caro said, "I'm against drugs. They totally ruined my family. I live with my grandparents because my mom can't take care of me. I think you're a nice guy, but I'm just saying, if you're going to use drugs, I'm not really interested in hanging out."
"It's not like I even live here."
"I know. I'm just saying, while you're here."
Fine. What did he care if the girl wanted to hang out with him? He wasn't going to be here very long anyway.
He thought of Matty. His friend had sounded really scared, like there was something seriously wrong. Of course, Matty was the worst exaggerator in the whole world, telling Aiden how he was going to buy a car with all the money he was making from dealing. Yeah, right. And what would his mother say about that—the kid had no job but could afford a nice car? Whatever.
But this was different. Matty hadn't been bragging. He'd sounded scared. If he wasn't careful, he was going to end up in prison. Like Caro's father.
"It sucks your parents are so messed up," Aiden said.
Her frown softened a little. "Yeah. Your dad seems cool."
"He's okay."
Aiden considered telling her about his mother but decided against it. Mom used drugs sometimes, but she wasn't a druggie. She could still take care of him, hold down a job. She'd totally screwed up their family, but that probably wasn't all the drugs. Mom wasn't a real addict. Aiden was like his mother. He liked the drugs, needed them, but he could manage his life. If he'd stayed off the LSD Friday night, none of this would be happening. He'd tried it before, but he'd never had that kind of reaction. So now he knew—acid wasn't for him. He could just stick to oxy, and everything would go back to normal.
How to convince his father of that, though.
The craving had settled back to a dull ache. Good, because he needed to think straight. He needed to take the edge off these cravings. Then, he had to figure out what was going on with Matty. Aiden had been as cooperative as he could be these last couple of days, even trying to make nice with Sam. He'd agreed to visit the stupid rehab place. He didn't want to go. Couldn't imagine himself there. Wasn't willing to try. He'd back out somehow. But not yet. He had to figure out how to earn back his father's trust and convince him he didn't need rehab.
No idea how he was going to do that. He couldn't even get his father to take him home for a day to get clothes.
When he'd suggested it, Dad had said they weren't going back. Like, at all. Aiden could still feel his father's huge hand on his shoulder, a weight as heavy as his words. They'd been anchored in the middle of the lake, taking turns jumping off and swimming. It was fun, hanging with his dad like that. Maybe if they'd done more of that over the years, Aiden might have made different choices.
Right. Blame Dad. What a freaking cop-out.
After they'd tired of swimming, they'd just floated on the boat, getting sun. Everything had been going well until Aiden had suggested a trip back home.
And Dad had refused.
He shouldn't have gotten mad. He probably shouldn't have called his father those names, but he wanted to go home. Needed to get away from here, back to his friends.
He needed an oxy.
The afternoon had been ruined, and Aiden figured his father would be mad at him the rest of the night. But no. Dad was nice as ever, understanding even. Wouldn't let him use his phone—and no matter how hard Aiden tried, he couldn't figure out where his father had hidden the stupid thing. Wouldn't agree to take him home. But he was nice about the whole thing.
It made Aiden feel so much worse about what he had to do.