Page 15 of Deliverance

“I don’t understand how that can be a turn on. Homosexuality is wrong. It’s an abomination. Like I don’t even know how Bridgette can stand to live in the same house as that…lesbian,” she says, hissing out the word like it’s a disease or something.

Angela’s spewing everything our parents and mentors practically beat into us through childhood. Most of us are smart enough to form our own opinions as they get older, even if our parents don’t agree. Mercy, for example, is apparently having threesomes while two men are together, and she looks absolutely tickled pink over it. The way Angela says lesbian kind of irks me, though. Maybe because it reminds me too much of the way I said it that night to Maggie.

“Get off your soap box, preacher.” Mercy scoffs. “Nothing wrong with a little fun. The whole taboo aspect of it is hot as shit.”

I scrunch my nose up at their conversation. I’m not exactly going to marches or anything, mainly because my father would no doubt hang me by my toes, but even I know both of their opinions are completely fucked up. Someone else’s sexuality isn’t just a turn on for their pleasure. It’s not a kink or something they choose, so I don’t know why we are talking like it is. Whatever.

“It’s disgusting, and I honestly am a little grossed out that you’d be into it,” Angela says with a shake of her head.

Mercy sits up, lifting her sunglasses off her head. “Well, I think it’s a little disgusting that you fucked a fifteen year old last month, but you don’t hear me judging you.”

My eyes widen behind my sunglasses as I turn to stare at them both. What the fuck?

“Okay, first off, I’m nineteen, so it’s only a four year difference. We could have gone to the same high school together,” Angela defends. “Second, you promised you wouldn’t say anything, you fucking bitch!”

“Don’t cast stones at glass houses, rapist.” Mercy shrugs.

Shaking my head, I stand up, packing my things and slipping on my swimsuit cover.

“Where are you going?” Angela asks.

“Not really interested in listening to you two bicker like old hags,” I say as I slip my arm through my bag and begin walking off.

I hear a few choice names murmured between the two of them, but I don’t pay them any attention. Frenemies, remember? I’ve come to expect nothing but the worst from them.

The drive home doesn’t take too long, but when I get there, I notice my brother’s car in the driveway, parked next to Maggie’s black Lexus. What the fuck is he doing here?

Stepping out of my Porsche, I walk through the front door when a very familiar and offensive smell hits my nose, followed by giggling. Great, my pothead brother is home.

Walking into the living room, I find him and Maggie on the couch, passing a joint back and forth. A hazy fog clouds the room and I cover my nose and mouth with my hand as I speak.

“What the fuck are you guys doing?”

My brother’s messy black head of hair whips up, staring up at me with bloodshot eyes and grinning.

“Sis! What’s up?”

“Your THC levels. Why are you here?”

“Do I need an excuse to come see my family?” He chuckles.

“Yes,” I answer flatly.

“Shit, you’re in a mood. Take a toke, baby B. Loosen up,” Maggie says as she holds the joint out to me.

I wrinkle my nose as I shake my head.

“Nah, Mags. She isn’t 420 friendly, you know what I mean?”

“She hasn’t tried my shit before. C’mon, one puff,” Maggie says as she continues holding it out for me.

Brad laughs, tipping his head back to rest on the couch. “Fuck, you’re not wrong. This shit is good. Where do you get it?”

“I’ve got a guy,” Maggie says before turning to look at me once more.

Her normally bright green eyes are glossy and hazed with a red tint, rivaling her hair. All of her curls are piled up on top of her head as she sits crosslegged on the couch wearing a black tank top and black leggings. Seriously, does she own any color? At all? I’d be amazed if I just saw white.

“She won’t do it, though. She’s too good for weed.” Brad snickers as he attempts to steal the joint from Maggie.