Well, it happened. Gina’s pot finally arrived. Not on day two like she anticipated, but on day six, leaving us boringly straight for a week. Well, not boring. At camp, you don’t notice that you’re sober like you do when school is going on. It doesn’t seem quite so important. Catalina colors are already vibrant blue and turquoise and the clouds dance without any hallucinogenic filter.
Still, I was missing that sweet flavor and the way my brain hummed after a couple of hits. Maybe that’s why they call it buzzed, because your brain buzzes like tingly static. So, when Gina held up the envelope she’d mailed herself and raised two eyebrows, I was ready.
We decided to wait until everyone crashed before sneaking out. Daytime was just too dangerous. Even though most of our counselors were cool a
