7
But I don’t do drugs,” said Toby.
“I don’t know anything about drugs and I don’t want to,” Julie added firmly.
“Neither do I,” I admitted. “But the Code says no drugs, so if we’re going to break every rule, we have to find some. I know who to ask.”
“Who?” asked Toby.
“Ice,” I said.
Ice was already in Grade 6 when we started kindergarten. Now he was at the high school. I knew him — sort of — because just after I’d started kindergarten, I got lost on my way to class and ended up down by the gym, where the Grade 6 students used to hang out in the changing rooms. One of them came out and said, “There’s a baby in the hallway.” Another looked out and said, “Bring him in here. Give him a smoke.” One took my hand and started to lead me into the changing rooms when Ice came out and said, “Quit it.” They let me go immediately. Ice bent down to me and said, “I guess you’re looking for Miss Little’s room. Go down there and turn right — you know which is your right? — and you’ll see it in front of you.” He watched me walk uncertainly back down the hallway. When I reached the place he’d told me to turn right, I looked back, and he gave an encouraging nod. After that, although we never spoke, whenever he saw me he’d give a tiny wink of his eye. When he went to high school I saw him only occasionally, around the town, or watching our soccer games, and he was always with a bunch of older students. But we still acknowledged one another, he by lifting his index finger and carving a small arc in the air, me with a little nod of my head. I wouldn’t say we were friends — but it was a kind of acquaintance.
“How do you know Ice has drugs?” asked Toby.
“Everybody knows,” I said.
Julie nodded in agreement.
“How do you know where to find him?” Toby persisted.
“Everybody knows that, too,” I said.
Julie nodded again.
“Everybody except me, I guess,” said Toby.
It was two days after the kiss-in and we were on Main Street, walking home from school. I led the way as we cut down the alley between Valley Hardware and the Main Street Convenience to Main Street Parallel, a dirt road that runs behind the businesses on Main Street. Ice was on the other side of the road, at the edge of a patch of dense, scrubby woods. He was huddled with two high school students, and they were smoking. I beckoned to him. He said something to his friends and they laughed. He sauntered over. His jeans and his sweat shirt and his long trench coat were black, and his long, wild, curly hair was black, too. It hung over his eyes. His face was thin and carved inwards under his cheek bones.
He sucked on his cigarette, threw it on the ground, and trod on it. “What’s up, guys?”
His voice was low and raspy.
I took a deep breath. “Do you have any drugs?”
He looked us over and grunted, “What sort of drugs?”
“Any sort.”
“Dextromethorpham?”
I nodded. “Sounds good.”
“That’s cough medicine.”
“Oh.”
“You want something a little stronger? This stuff’s good.”
He produced a small plastic container and shook some white powder from it into the palm of his hand. “Try some.” He held his hand towards Toby.
Toby looked from the powder to Ice. “Do I lick it or sniff it?”
Ice laughed. “You can do what you like with it but it won’t give you much of a buzz. It’s baby powder. I use it to stop my collar chafing.” He rubbed it on his neck and went on, “I’d guess you guys are new to the drug scene.”
“We’ve used plenty of drugs,” Julie retorted quickly.
“Like what, darling?” Ice challenged.
“Don’t call me darling,” she snapped.
“What do you want me to call you — sweetheart?”
Julie snorted, folded her arms, and looked away.
Ice laughed again. “Look — I know what you’re doing. You’re breaking all the rules — right? We heard about it up at the high school, and it’s cool. Of course, all your little rebellion is going to get you is a load of trouble, but it’s cool. Now, if you want to break the rule about drugs, there’s an easier way than getting into any stupid bad stuff.”
“What easier way?” I said.
“Like just smoke a cigarette — a regular cigarette — and swig a beer. Nicotine and alcohol are drugs.”
“I hadn’t thought of that,” I admitted.
“How were you planning to let the principal know you were doing the drugs thing?” Ice went on. “I suppose you were going to take the stuff down to the playground and do it there.”
“Well …” I started.
“That’d be really smart. I’ll do something else for you. I’ll put the word around you’ve been drinking and smoking, so it gets back to your school.”
“How will you do that?”
“Leave it to me.”
“But we’ll still have to do it.”
“I understand.”
He fished in the pockets of his trench coat and produced a cigarette and matches. He lit the cigarette. “Here. Take one puff each and don’t inhale. I don’t want you puking over me.”
We passed the cigarette around. When it was my turn I sucked briefly, and quickly released the smoke. I felt like a dirty stovepipe.
Ice said, “Smoking’s a stupid, dirty habit.”
“So why do you do it?” Julie challenged.
“Don’t ask, darling,” he growled.
“Don’t call me darling,” she snapped.
Ice chuckled and produced a can of beer from his trench coat — I wondered what else he had in his pockets — and said, “You’d better do your drinking here, too.”
He flipped it open and ordered, “One mouthful each. Leave the rest for me.”
I was last to take a swig. It tasted like flat pop mixed with dirt.
I passed the can back to Ice and said, “What do we owe you?”
“You’ve given me a laugh. That’s enough.”
We didn’t speak all the way home.
I don’t know how Ice did it, but Mr. Justason had learned about our latest rule breaking by the following morning. Before first class even started his voice on the intercom ordered Toby, Julie and me to report to the office, where he told us he’d heard about our party of the night before.
“Party?” I said.
“Your party on Main Street Parallel, where drink and drugs were consumed,” he said.
“Oh,” I said. “That party.”
Mr. Justason consulted a paper on his desk. “With the demerits you’ve already accumulated you won’t be playing soccer for a long time.” He looked steadily at us. “There can’t be any more rules for you to break.”