Kate took off racing toward Belle River Park, as Griff belted out the chorus to “Born to Run.” Eventually Kate disappeared around a corner. Griff and Aubrey looked at each other, then took off after her. Griff shot Aubrey some side-eye and it became a race. They sprinted, neck and neck. Her legs were longer, but he was stronger and faster. Aubrey’s lungs stung from the cold. She laughed and squealed, the rumor already forgotten.
A few minutes later the two of them passed through the gates into the hush of Belle River Park. The shadows of the trees on the snow were ghostly as Aubrey caught her breath. They wound their way to the sledding hill, where they found Kate standing in the shelter of a copse of evergreens, her face lighting up and going dark as she flicked her cigarette lighter. The park officially closed at sunset, but it was deserted and rarely patrolled, so they had no fear of detection.
Kate succeeded in getting the joint lit.
“Here,” she said, and handed it to Aubrey, who drew the pungent smoke deep into her lungs.
Aubrey had never touched drugs or alcohol before freshman year, but under Kate’s tutelage, she’d quickly become a connoisseur. Pot seemed like part of a Carlisle education, like studying Buddhism or going to art films dressed all in black. She’d smoked enough dope that she could now get a contact high just from breathing the air in the vicinity of someone else smoking, or putting her lips to the mouthpiece of a well-used bong. Or so she believed. A psychopharmacology major she knew from Sanskrit class swore there was no such thing as a contact high, that it was only a placebo effect. If that was true, why was Aubrey soaring off the first hit from Kate’s joint? The joint came her way again, and Aubrey took another toke, then grabbed the dining hall tray from Griff’s hand.
“Me first,” she said, and ran for the sledding hill.
As she ascended the steep hill, Aubrey’s feet sank into the snow, making each step an effort, and she slowed to a trudge. Man, she was high. Every step sent strange vibrations up her legs and spine. The cold felt warm on her exposed skin, and the snow looked indigo in the moonlight. She lost track of time. The hike up the hill seemed to go on forever, but then suddenly she was at the top, looking down. Where were Kate and Griff? Her eyes were having trouble focusing. The spot where she thought they should be was swallowed in the darkness of the evergreens. What if they’d abandoned her, here in the freezing cold? Suddenly that seemed likely, and then virtually certain. Her heart seized up. She imagined the park police finding her tomorrow morning, frozen solid, in a fetal position, and alerting the RA in Whipple, that biology girl they barely knew, who’d have to inform Aubrey’s roommates. Would Kate feel guilty at all? Would she cry? Probably not. Then something moved below. Aubrey stared right at them; she’d been staring at them the whole time. Wait, Kate was kneeling in front of Griff. Were they, could they be—?
Aubrey threw the tray onto the snow and plopped down on top of it. The impact against the hard ground made her teeth clatter. She tasted blood, and pushed off before she quite had her balance, immediately spinning around and barreling downhill backward.
“Aaagh!” she screamed.
As much as she kicked and flailed, she couldn’t right herself, and in what seemed like a split second, she crashed into Kate and Griff at the bottom. They toppled over into the snowbank, limbs tangling, voices crying out, hoarse in the wind. Aubrey hit her head on someone’s boot hard enough to see stars. Griff’s pants were down around his ankles. Kate got to her feet, laughing.
“Gimme that, you spaz, I’ll show you how it’s done,” she said in her luscious voice, made deeper by smoke and cold. Kate grabbed the tray from under Aubrey’s thighs, and ran off toward the hill.
Griff picked himself up and turned away quickly. Aubrey saw a flash of smooth white butt as he yanked up his pants and rearranged himself. She stood up abruptly and staggered, reaching out for the nearest evergreen for support, rubbing her forehead.
“You okay?” Griff asked, turning back to her.
“I guess,” Aubrey said. She was high enough that even though she knew intellectually that she’d really cracked her head, she couldn’t feel it, and she wasn’t alarmed. “What about you?”
“Fine.”
“You didn’t get frostbite in a sensitive place, did you?” she asked, and giggled.
Marijuana had amazing sedative properties. She was bitterly jealous of Kate, of the way Griff adored Kate, of how cavalierly Kate squandered his attentions. The resentment hibernated somewhere deep in Aubrey’s chest, but at this moment, she couldn’t access it, and it didn’t matter. It just seemed funny, how their signals were so crossed. Kate would never love Griff, and Griff would never love Aubrey. Sad, sad, sad.
Griff laughed, but then stopped short. “She only has sex with me when she’s high,” he said, suddenly maudlin. “Do you think that’s a bad sign? Sometimes I’m not sure if she really cares about me, or if she’s using me for my money.”
You’re the only one who isn’t sure about that, Aubrey thought to herself. Griff looked at her with such profound sadness that Aubrey worried she’d mistakenly spoken aloud.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“It’s not your fault. I’m the idiot who lets her.”
“Everyone thinks it’s a privilege to get abused by Kate,” Aubrey said. She thought she was trying to make him feel better. But as the words came out and hung in the icy air, Aubrey felt their truth in her own case.
The wind gusted, and Griff swayed on his feet, listing in Aubrey’s direction. For one mesmerizing second, she thought he would kiss her. Then she realized: They were both totally baked, that was all. His balance was off. She was imagining things. Why would Griff kiss her? The guy was utterly crushed, he was so obsessed with Kate, who didn’t give two shits about him. He wouldn’t kiss Aubrey.
She could kiss him.
Aubrey was experiencing a strange disconnect between thoughts and actions, and didn’t realize she’d acted on her desire until their lips met. His mouth was warm and firm. Her lips parted, and so did his. They were French kissing. He smelled of pot, but tasted like peppermints and snow.
Griff pulled away, rubbing his eyes. “Whoa. Did that just happen?” he asked.
“I’m not sure,” Aubrey said. But she was sure. She had the memory now, and he couldn’t take it away from her.
At the top of the hill, Kate turned around and settled onto the tray, calling out to them to watch.