Gray's packed with people, last-minute partiers intent on getting as much brain mushing done before the launch of the fall semester. Without social gatherings like these, fake IDs and copious amounts of liquor, teachers would be out of jobs. School and summer vacations are very codependent. Summer mushifies, deadens, dulls, weakens—whatever--the mind, and school is there to mold it back into a respectable state. Got it?

Aiden is good on his word. My stalker, Gabby, is mui hot. She's trying so very hard to impress me and although her attempt fails to make its mark, the semi-degrading way she's throwing herself at me does much to turn me on. Her lips graze my earlobe as she says something dirty to me. Honestly, the music is way too loud to make out her words, but I imagine them to be indecent because of the way she's giggling. I'm about to form a response when I see my mother stalking towards my table, Spencer trailing awkwardly behind her. How many rails did I bump? I must be more gacked than I thought.

But it's not a drug-induced delusion because my very corporeal mother clamps her hand around my forearm and drags me into the bathroom. "Oh for God's sake, are you high?" She's peeping into my eyes, no doubt referring to my dilated pupils.

"Get with the times, Mom," I laugh. "We call it spun, twa—"

I'm cut off by a slap to the face. I don't register the pain, just a loud clap and the fact that her palm is colder than the precious metals and stones of her ornate jewelry. I hear Spencer suck in a quick inhale from somewhere behind me. "I can't deal with you right now, Ashley. Not like this," she hisses. "You're embarrassing me." She catches her reflection in the mirror and straightens her blouse.

"No, Mom, you're embarrassing yourself. You could never deal with me so cut the bullshit. What do you want?"

Her face tightens up worse than when she gets her Botox treatment. "I'm leaving town for a few days. Your grandmother is ill, not that you'd care. I need you to act the part of capable hostess while I'm away. Do you think you can manage to pull yourself together, Ashley?"

"Tell Grandma I said hi."

She eyes me and nods her head at Spencer. "I'll see you next week," she says to her. "If you have any problems with Ashley, any at all, please feel free to contact me. I want to apologize for her behavior in advance." And then her noisy heels carry her further and further away until it's just silence and self-hatred flooding this space.

I forget Spencer's in the room with me until I hear her shuffle around. She clears her throat. "Are you okay?" she asks. She looks sympathetic and uncomfortable at the same time.

The tenderness in her eyes unsettles me. "Let's get a few things straight," I snap. "I'm going to be here for a while so don't get in my way. If you want a few drinks, I'll vouch for you, but that'll be the extent of my hospitality. Are we clear?"

She stiffens, and the tenderness is gone. "And to think, for a few seconds I actually felt sorry for you."

"That's where you're wrong. I don't need anyone to feel sorry for me. Especially not you."

I force myself out of the potentially explosive situation and head back to the table where Gabby and Aiden are seated. "Do you have anymore shit? I need another rail." I'm talking to Gabby of course. A part from alcohol and the occasional blunt, Aiden's drug free.

Gabby hands over her snuff bullet. It's glittery and peppered with stickers of cute fruit, mainly strawberries and cherries. "As much as you want, baby," she purrs, playing with my hair. "I get it cheap. My cousin's a cook," she says it like it should impress me. It doesn't. See, I'm plugged into every cog and wheel of the drug trafficking trade, from king pins, to cooks and farmers, to large time buyers, to middle men and corner pushers, and everyone else in-between. State your poison and I've got a connect. As far as quality goes, Gabby's shit is mediocre. And price? That's just not an issue.

Aiden frowns as I twist the dial, loading the chamber. It burns my nose in, but the drip tastes like fruit punch. It's probably been flavored with Kool-Aid. "Ash, take it easy," he pleads. "I think you've had enough."

"I don't," is all I say. Aiden's worry is not misplaced. There's a solid reason why I try to limit my drug intake. After a binge, I'm scathingly cranky and 'flipping psychotic, man'—his words, not mine. Okay, I'll admit I can get kind of testy. I've been arrested for getting caught up in car chases, fights and general domestic disturbances, and a few months ago, twacked out of my mind and all rational thought, I was so confident of my invincibility that I flung myself off my friend Jasmine's house. I only managed to dislocate my leg and break a couple fingers. The bruising and scrapes were icing and sprinkles on the hellish cupcake that is my life. When the paramedics arrived, I was laughing my ass off, too amped off speed and adrenaline to feel the pain. If it wasn't my drug of choice, I'd have kicked it a long while ago.

I fill the chamber and snort some more to spite him and Spencer, who's sitting at a corner table. Spencer sticks out like a lady in a room full of whores. There's no pretense about it, Spencer looks like the minor that she is. Apparently, some of the people here tonight are into that because I've watched her fend off three advances. A guy in a sleazy suit just won't let up. He comes back with two drinks. She shakes her head and he takes a seat. He scoots his chair closer. Spencer's eyes dart around the club and finally land on mine. They scream 'help me,' so that's what I do.

"Leave, asshole," I growl at Mr. Sleazy. His eyes dart from me to Spencer, and back. "Are you retarded?" I ask. "You must be if you think that this girl is legal, or are you just a perv?"

"Uh, sorry. I didn't, um," he mumbles as he scrambles away, tail tucked between his legs.

"Come on," I tell Spencer, cutting off her stuttery 'thank you'. "I can't have fun if you're in constant danger of becoming a rape statistic."

She follows me to the table and weakly waves at Gabby and Aiden before ducking her head and taking the only other empty seat. "This is Spencer," I introduce. I steal a sip of Aiden's drink.

I see his face light up over the rim of the glass. "So, where are you from?" he asks.

"Ohio," she says. "My family's moving to Los Angeles in a few weeks."

He nods his head, pretending like it's old news. "Cool. How's Ashley been treating you?"

Spencer's face flames up. "She's—"

"Don't answer that," I warn. "Aiden, shut up."

Gabby's feeling my leg up under the table. She's batting her best bedroom eyes at me. If Spencer wasn't here, I'd have taken the bait and excused myself to go fuck her in one of the bathroom stalls. Spencer's noticed Gabby's forwardness. I've caught her shooting me questioning looks, like she's trying to figure me out. I can't take sitting still anymore. I need to move. The speed in my system fuels my restlessness. I grab Spencer's arm and tug her with me. "We have to book. I told my mom I'd have Cinderella home before she turns back into a pumpkin--or something like that." I ignore Gabby's shattered face, and peck Aiden on the cheek. "I'll call you," I say.

"Bye, Spencer," he yells after us. "It was nice meeting you!"