Page 34 of 16 Forever

Everett cracks up as he unscrews the top of his vape pen and opens one of the new boxes. “You’re fricking funny, dude.”

So Mom and Dad were right—I kept an open mind, and school has become a lot more interesting. I’ve found my purpose.

And that purpose is to be the fricking man.

Once Bodhi opened my eyes to the power of my state ID (when shown to the right people) (a.k.a. NOT the scary lady at Buy Rite), everything changed. In the span of three short weeks, I’ve somehow—well, it’s because Bodhi told everybody—become the go-to guy at Ridgedale High for all your illicit needs. You want beer? I’m on it. Hard cider? Sure! Vodka? No problem. Weed gummies? You betcha! Or, in the case of this giggling skater boytaking a deep pull from his newly replenished magenta vape pen: Here, have some fruity smoke juice!

My condition means I have a special talent. Or, at least, something I can do that few others can. Which means other kids actually, like,needme.

It’s a good feeling.

Bodhi and I have turned it into a quasi business. Depending on the request, people will pay an extra $5, or $10, even $20, so that we can procure items that their age would otherwise prevent them from procuring. Or sometimes the payment is just giving us a can of whatever they’re drinking, and that’s fine too.

I’ve discovered that alcohol can be fun.

I’m not out of control with it or anything, but after that first successful mission at Vespucci Liquors, Bodhi and I sat in his bedroom downing hard ciders, and I was able to forget about the shitty reality of my existence. We just drank and laughed and watched stupid videos of people puking after eating ghost peppers.

Since Lincoln’s back at college, I’m extra grateful for Bodhi. Without him, I don’t know what I’d be doing. Probably sitting around like a lonely, depressed piece of human furniture. Instead, I’ve got Bodhi, and Robbie and Amir, and we act like idiots together.

And earn some spending money by taking advantage of my special gift.

“You’re so lucky, bruh,” Everett says after a poorly aimed exhale that slams me in the face with a sickly sweet stream of air.

“Why’s that?”

“’Cause you get to be sixteen forever. But with all the legal powers of being an adult. That’s, like, sick as hell.”

“It’s—” I’m about to launch into a rant about why the reality of what I’m experiencing is much closer to the traditional definition of the wordsickthan the one he means. But it’s clearly not what he wants to hear. And in some ways, I can see how he’s right. “Totally sick as hell.”

“So jealous, man.”

As I get in the car and start driving home, I listen to a voice memo Bodhi just sent.

“Heyyyy,” he says. “Got a new request through Amir. It’s pretty dope. Some senior needs us to be the keg hookup for her party Saturday. She’s willing to pay us fifty smackers! We’d just have to get two kegs, which I think they sell at Vespucci? So it should be easy. Or, if not there, they’ll definitely have them at the brewery. That dude with the lazy eye loves us. And here’s the best part: If we do it, we’retotally welcome at the party.I bet we’ll be some of the only juniors. Oh shoot, you’re a sophomore again. So that’s even cooler! You’ll for sure be the only sophomore. I’m so hype. Let me know if you’re in.”

I nod and smile, as if Bodhi can see me or something. A party sounds nice.

I cue up “Old Town Road” on my phone and reroute the car toward Vespucci Liquors.

Maggie

I can’t fall asleep.

Even though I’ve been steadfast in my determination to avoid Carter since he waved at me a few days ago, he always seems to worm his way into my brain every night as I’m lying in bed.

Lindsey! Right?

It’s actually Maggie!I shout back at him in my mind.Let’s make out once more and then never see each other again, ’kay?

Luckily, every time I’m in one of these missing-Carter moments, I have a surefire antidote for eliminating the feeling: I remind myself of our last night together. The night before he forgot me.

It was less than two months ago, but it feels like another lifetime.

We ate at the Cheesecake Factory. We considered going somewhere fancier, like this Italian place Vincenzo’s that makes all their pasta fresh, but we decided a more casual dinner was the more optimistic choice—if we made less of a big deal of our evening, then maybe it would, in fact, turn out to be not that big a deal. Maybe the next day Carter would wake up seventeen, and we would still be a couple.

But as I took bites of my Thai chicken salad, it was hard not to think about the distinct possibility that Carter would forget me by the morning, along with every experience we’d had together.

We didn’t talk about that, though.