Free The Sweetheart Rules by Shirley Jump Page B

wouldn’t have screwed everything up.
    Danny chuckled. “That’s the attitude. Who gives a shit what anyone says. Right, Prep?”
    “Don’t call me that.”
    “I’ll stop when you decide to
partake
, Prep.” Danny held out the joint.
    So far, Jackson had resisted the drugs. All those useless facts he’d learned in health class, along with his mother’s warnings, echoed in his head. He worried about falling into an abyss of city streets and dirty needles, of becoming one of those jonesing addicts he saw on TV.
    The guys here were cool, though, and all mellow. No one looked ready for rehab. Pot couldn’t be
that
bad. And maybe a few hits would calm this anxiety, the tightness in his chest. Erase those walls around him, the ones built out of expectations and rules, that threatened to cut off his air supply every time he turned around.
    Then Jackson looked across the room at Lacey Williams. She was sitting on the arm of a threadbare chair, her legs draped over the opposite arm, while Rally Weaver sat in the chair below her, one arm circling her waist like he owned her. Lacey was showing Rally something on her phone and laughing that sweet, light laugh of hers. Beside them, an old Pringles lid was littered with stubs of joints and cigarettes.
    Rally leaned back, drew on a joint, and exhaled a long breath that curled smoke around Lacey’s head. Jackson hated Rally for touching Lacey, but envied the older teen for his cool factor. He made everything he did seem easy and chill. Yeah, Rally was a jerk, but he was a confident one. That was the kind of confidence Jackson wanted, the kind that drew girls—girls like Lacey—like flies.
    “Someday, Prep, maybe you’ll hang with us for real,” Danny said and began to turn away.
    “Wait. Give me some of that,” Jackson said. At his feet, Mary began to whine. He gave her an absentminded pat to say,
Soon, we’ll leave soon
. Mary sighed and slid to the floor, dropping her head onto her paws. She knew better.
    “Here, have the rest. I got another one ready.” Danny turned the pinched end toward Jackson and gave him an approving smile. “’Bout time you joined the party instead of just observing, Prep.”
    “Don’t call me that.” He hesitated a second, and felt like the entire room was watching him. Damn. What if he coughed or choked or got sick? Kelly had turned green and puked the first time she smoked.
    Danny started to smirk, like he knew Jackson would chicken out again.
    Jackson stopped thinking and just took the stub of the roach from Danny. He put it to his lips, closed his eyes and drew in, not too deep. The smoke hit his lungs with a jolt, and his throat protested. He swallowed back the cough, drew in again, and waited for the wave to hit, that sweet serenity he saw on everyone else’s face here. One hit; another; then it came in like a soft blanket, washing over the pain in his head and his gut, settling into his bones, coating the world in an easy happy haze.
    Why had he waited so long for this? Shit. This stuff was
amazing
.
    He forgot about school. Forgot about his mother. Forgot about everything but these friends who understood him like no one else did. He dropped onto the floor, pushing his back against the crumbling wall, and drew Mary against his chest and told himself that he was happy.

Eight

    The man parked the borrowed Taurus on the side of the road and turned off the engine. In an instant, Florida’s sun began to raise the temperature inside the borrowed sedan, which had carried him from New York to Florida, with a few hiccups but no major breakdowns. He put his hand on the key fob, then paused. The parking lot was empty, the building quiet. The sign, however, said he was at the right place. A sign he’d been looking for, in one way or another, for the past six months.
    DIANA TUTTLE, DVM.
    She had her mother’s last name, but he’d expected that. What he hadn’t expected was the sign below that one: OFFICE RELOCATED .
    Was he too late? Had