Rhys lay on his bed on Wednesday night, aimlessly tossing his Hacky Sack up and down. It was kind of cool the way the colors all merged together as it turned in the air, he thought. He pulled out the monogrammed Tiffany lighter he’d embarrassingly stolen from his dad’s office and lit up the roach he had in his pocket. He couldn’t tell if it was good or if it was—tapped out? Smoked out? He took a drag and held the smoke in until he could almost feel his lungs expand, then exhaled easily. It was as if his years of swimming had primed him for being a champion pot smoker. He’d been baked since the other day and finally, for the first time, felt relaxed. He’d skipped school to hang out in the park, and suddenly, he felt like the first sixteen years of his life had been a mistake.
“Rhys?” The strident voice of Lady Sterling carried down the hall.
“Come in,” Rhys muttered, stuffing the Hacky Sack inside his Frette pillowcase. He certainly didn’t want to wind up demonstrating his Hacky Sack skills on an episode of Tea with Lady Sterling.
What about his champion pot-smoking skills?
“Darling, we need to know if you’re coming to the wedding this weekend? I know there are a lot of people who’d love to see you.” Lady Sterling walked into his bedroom carrying a Domino’s pizza box in one hand and Estella, one of her many corgis, in the other. At least it was probably Estella—they were kind of hard to tell apart. Usually the corgis spent all their time at the Sterling compound in Bedford unless Lady Sterling was shooting a segment with them.
“I’ll take that,” Rhys said, swinging his legs off the bed and grabbing the pizza box. He’d never had Dominos before, but after smoking up, it was all he could think about. It was like his life wouldn’t be complete unless he had a pepperoni and pineapple pizza. And now it was here. Rhys grinned tenderly at the greasy cardboard container as he set it on his desk. Estella emitted a low-pitched whine of protest at being separated from the pizza.
“You ordered that? I thought it had been a mistake, but…” Lady Sterling shook her head sadly, her gold Cartier necklaces clinking against each other.
“Thanks, Mom!” Rhys added, hoping Lady Sterling would just go away. Luckily, the pungent smell of pepperoni and greasy cheese seemed to mask the thick scent of pot that Rhys was sure was clinging to him.
“You could have had Anka make something.” Lady Sterling narrowed her eyes. Anka was their stern Romanian housekeeper and the only person in the world who could stand up to Lady Sterling.
“Ah well, you’re a growing boy, so I suppose it’s fine. Right, Estella?” Lady Sterling cooed toward the dog, who was clawing her way out of Lady Sterling’s arms, desperate to get to the pizza.
“Thanks again, Mom!” Rhys repeated himself desperately, hoping that she’d take the hint and leave.
Instead, Lady Sterling sniffed the air suspiciously. “Are you planting something in here? It almost smells like the herb garden,” she mused.
Wonder why?
“Um, no,” Rhys said uncomfortably. God, he was hungry. The smell of the cheese wafting from the pizza box was practically killing him.
“Okay, then. Well, I’m off to prepare for the trip back across the pond! And I do wish you’d reconsider coming with us. I was speaking with your father and we thought maybe if you came, we could tour a few of the schools over there. Boarding school might be what you need, although of course, I’d miss you terribly….” Lady Sterling trailed off.
“I’m fine,” Rhys said, shaking his head. It was true. Ever since he’d met the Darrow kids, everything had seemed so much easier.
That happens when you skip out on everything hard.
“Ah, well, your father and I may do a tour ourselves, then. You know he loves to relive his boarding school days.” Lady Sterling shook her head fondly. “Feel free to invite some of the swim team fellows over while we’re gone. Even if you’re not on the team anymore, you’ve known those boys for years. You seem like you need some cheering up. You can have Anka prepare,” Lady Sterling offered. She looked softly at her son. “I know things have been hard for you lately.”
Oh, she has no idea.
“Thanks, Mom.” Rhys nodded, not looking up until he heard the sound of his mother’s Prada flats disappearing down the cherrywood hallway. He hurriedly stood up, shut the door, and locked it for good measure.
He pulled up the white top of the flimsy pizza box and inhaled the scent of the cheese. He placed a slice in his mouth with one hand, logging on to his e-mail with the other.
Swim Team Throwdown, read the subject line of the only e-mail in his inbox. He clicked on it. Grease fell on the keyboard as he scanned the e-mail announcing a pasta party for the team before their big meet against Unity. Suddenly the greasy cheese in Rhys’s mouth made him feel sick.
Fuck it. Fuck the swim team and their lame parties. Rhys scrolled down to the bottom of the e-mail and deftly hit the unsubscribe link to make sure he wouldn’t get any more e-mails about the swim team. He didn’t need them. In fact, he was going to throw his own party. With his real friends. He opened another e-mail, typing in Lucas’s address to spread the word. Maybe he and Lisa would end up being lovers and have hippie babies and then move to Canada and live on a farm and raise alpacas. Snow-boarding alpacas.
Aw, don’t we love stoner daydreams?