1.
Its starting again.
Theres a sound like an airplane descending loudly in my ear. I cant quite place it. The sweat is cold down my back. I feel my heart beat faster. My hands shake.
God, I cant take it.
I cant.
If it happens again . . .
I hold my breath, waiting.
The sound fades in and outhigh-pitched, whining.
Preston and Jackie dont seem to notice.
Theyre on his bed together, which is really just like a futon on the floor, watching this old Billy Wilder movie.
Prestons arm is around her, and her arm is around him.
They are tangled together . . . intertwined.
Two separate people joined together into someone new and different, but still the same.
Not that I dont like Jackie. I mean, shes great. Shes super great. And super nice.
They both are.
Thats why they let me hang out with them.
Cause, believe me, I bring nothing to the table.
Im totally what youd call a charity case.
They let me hang out and watch movies and play video games until finally Prestonll give me a look like, Yo, men my girl need to have some sex right now. And so then Ill leave.
And go homeback to my familys little three-bedroom house on the avenues, the opposite of Prestons palatial mansion up here near the Palace of Legion of Honor. The house is like an old Gothic castle, paid for by the network TV show both his parents were on in the nineties. They played a couple on the showa pair of married lawyers.
Theyre retired and they spend most of their time traveling.
Leaving Preston alone with no one but Olivia, the housekeeper.
And Jackie, of course.
Sometimes I like to think that Preston and Jackie are my parents. Except that Preston is such a big pothead. He has basically his own floor in his parents house with a grow room set up in the closet.
I used to smoke, too, before it made me go crazy.
But that was more than two years ago.
Im sixteen now, and its been over a year since my last episode.
Only theres this shrill, piercing scream coming in and out of auditory focus.
Its happening again.
Preston picks up his intricately blown glass bong from the carpeted floor in front of him and takes a big hit, exhaling away from me and Jackiebeing polite and all.
The thick gray smoke from his lungs smells sweet and pungent, and Preston says, Goddamn.” And then he coughs.
Jackie looks over at me and rolls her eyes, but in a sweet way.
Her eyes are this intense green color, so if I look into them when Im talking, I get distracted and lose my train of thought. She has a long, angular nose and is tall and thin with dark black skin. She could be, like, a high-fashion model doing runway shows or whatever. She is lovely. If I werent crazy maybe I could have a girl like her.
But its not just that.
Preston is . . .
I dont even know.
He is everything.
And he has everything.
If shes like a high-fashion model, then hes like some kinda rock star. He has long hair parted down the middle and a scruffy beard and square jaw. Hes tall and naturally muscular, and its just the way he carries himself, like he doesnt care at all.
Hes been this way ever since I can remembercalm and collected and unconcerned.
Preston and I met back when we were both ten years old going to this summer camp up in Watsonville right after his grandmother died. He used to stay up nights talking to me about her. Preston still makes, like, this big deal about it. I didnt think I did anything that special, but I guess it meant a lot to him.
Weve been best friends ever sinceeven though I didnt start actually going to school with him until my mom got the job working in the library at Stanyan Hill my seventh grade year. Its a private school, so otherwise wed never have been able to afford it. My mom and dad kept talking about how much better an education Id get at Stanyan, but all I cared about was being able to hang out with Preston.
I watch him on the bed watching the movie. His arm is around Jackie, and hes resting his head absently on her shoulder. Hes wearing a ripped hoodie over a vintage David Bowie T-shirt, sitting cross-legged, staring at the TV with a stoned innocencesmiling.
Jackie absently strokes his hair and then kisses him on the forehead.
They are so effortless together.
And then there is that noise againbuzzing, screamingdarting in and out.
I look around.
I am sure somehow that this noise is not a real noise at all. This noise is my diseasenothing but corroded synapses and misfiring chemical reactions.
Just when Id started to think things were getting back to normal again, the medication mustve stopped working.
The air is thick and greasy-feeling from the pot smoke and the incense and our collective breathing.
I fumble to get a cigarette out of my pack.
Miles, you all right?” Jackie whispersstaring like she wants to see inside of me to figure out the answer to her question.
I space out into her eyes for a second.
W . . . what? No. I mean, yeah, Im fine.”
You sure?”
Yeah,” I tell her. Totally.”
But Prestons room is suddenly hot and claustrophobic-feeling, and the sweat on my skin is itching fucking bad. The shades are drawn and the windows are closed, and the only light is coming from the TV. Im sitting on the carpeted floor next to Prestons bed, wanting to scratch my back, my arms, everywhere, but not doing it cause Jackie is still trying to figure out if Im all right.
You wanna go smoke a cigarette?” she asks me.
I pause, listening for that sound.
Miles?”
And thats when I see it.
Right there, on Jackies bare shoulder, a giant mosquito. I watch as it hovers and lands and then sticks her and she calls out, Ow, fuck!”
She slaps at her shoulder, squishing the thing against her so it kind of pops, leaving behind some blackish-looking guts and whatever amount of her blood it had managed to extract before getting dead.
What?” Preston asks her, his voice hoarse. What is it, baby?”
She wipes the blood and bits of splattered insect away with her hand. Aw, gross, a mosquito.”
Preston leans over to look. In here?”
She laughs a little. Uh, yeah . . . duh.”
She grabs some Kleenex out of a box near the bed and wipes her hand clean, throwing the wadded-up tissue in the small black plastic trash bin.
And thats when she notices mesmiling big, rocking back and forth.
What?” she asks, crossing her arms.
It was a mosquito,” I tell her.
She stares blankly. And?”
I laugh and shake my head.
She keeps on staring at me.
"Are you sure you're all right?"
I go on and laugh some more.
Because, I mean, thats the fucking question, isnt it?