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Nick introduced her to cocaine.

He showed up most afternoons, like Shane used to. Unlike Shane, he had no qualms about being in her bedroom.

The first time they’d fooled around, she’d been surprisingly nervous. She’d never been a self-conscious girl, but she clammed up a bit, her legs stiff, her brain spiraling.

Nick didn’t seem to notice. He just shoved his hand between her legs and asked if she liked it. She couldn’t help but compare, even though she tried not to; Shane would have noticed. Shane would have talked her through her nerves, working her up with lust and heat until she forgot to worry about her body and was begging for it.

It wasn’t bad with Nick. He’d made her come a few times once she’d started to loosen up a bit. But it wasn’t like with Shane, even if she’d never gotten that far with him. Nick didn’t make her bone marrow melt. But at least he didn't make her cry.

He liked to do a bump before they fooled around. In the beginning he disappeared to the bathroom, but she’d been around Cary and his crew long enough to know what was going on and told him he didn’t need to bother. He’d laughed and poured out a line on her stomach, snorting it off her skin and then licking up after himself.

She didn’t let him fuck her. She could tell he was annoyed about it, but he never said anything apart from a heavy sigh and an ‘okay, baby’.

He’d been surprised when she asked for a hit. It was the week before school started.

“Have you done this before?” he asked, tapping out a tiny line half the size of the ones he usually snorted onto the book beside her bed, the new Nick Hornby called About a Boy . It was from a different container, not the one Nick used.

“No,” she said.

“Maybe I shouldn’t be the one giving it to you then…”

“Why not? You’re the first for everything else.”

Nick looked sheepish, at that. Like it had never occurred to him that she’d never fooled around with anyone. They really didn’t talk much – he never had asked how old she was, never mind asked her anything else – and he opened his mouth like he was going to say something but she leaned over, grabbed the little black straw he’d tossed on her nightstand, and snorted it. They lounged around for a few minutes, Nick running his fingers back and forth under the hem of her shorts, tickling her thigh.

It made her feel anxious, but kind of in a good way… Her heart was racing, she felt wide awake for the first time in months, and more than anything else she felt urgent. She’d pulled Nick to her and kissed him fiercely as he laughed into her mouth.

She finally understood why he skipped the making out and got right to business – she was in a rush rush rush and couldn’t get their pants down quick enough.

They spent most of their time together doing blow and fooling around.

Things with Dustin were tense. He never said it, but he blamed her for Shane not coming around anymore. Between that and the amount of time she spent going out or in her room with Nick, she didn’t see him much. She missed her brother, but being around Dusty made her think of Shane, now, and she couldn’t help but find herself avoiding him.

Dustin still called Shane almost every day, and sometimes Shane came by and picked him up. But he never phoned the house, never came inside, and didn’t even park around the corner to check up on her anymore.

Even Ma couldn’t shake her out of her gloomy reverie. Laney barely noticed Linette blowing through most days, just counted the minutes until she’d leave so she could call Nick and tell him to come over.

By the end of September, though neither of them said it, Laney knew that her time with Nick was wrapping up. Cary was bound to be home, soon; Laney would be back under leash-and-collar and Nick was unlikely to come sniffing around.

“Let’s go to the city,” Nick had said.

“Okay,” Laney said. “Party favour?” She held up the straw.

Nick grinned. “Not that kind of party.” He reached into his pocket and produced a small clear baggy with two white tablets in it.

“What’s that?” she asked.

“Trust me, baby. You’ll have a good time.”

Laney shrugged and popped the tablet, laying back down on the bed and looking up at her ceiling. “What should I wear?”

He eyed her oversized shirt with mild distaste.

“Maybe borrow something from your mom,” he said.