She held out the last bite of hers and Liam took a whiff. The cookie smelled like chocolate with an underlayer of skunk.

“What’s it going to do to us?” That time they’d tried his mom’s pot, Liam could barely walk.

“I don’t know. Eating it is probably different from smoking it, and this is different pot. Come on.” Shy jumped to her feet, popped the rest of the cookie into her mouth, and led him over to the swings.

“I have a calculus test tomorrow,” Liam complained.

“I’ll help you study,” she joked. Shy was so behind in math she’d probably never take calculus. She pumped her legs and swung back and forth, looking cute and spidery in her black jumpsuit and Gucci sneakers.

Liam tried to relax. Why was he thinking about calculus?

He sat down on the swing next to hers and kicked it back and forth. “Fifteen minutes and then I better head home to study.”

Shy twirled her swing around and around so the two chains it hung from twisted. Then she let it unwind, spinning fast and violently, her pinkish-blond hair flying out around her head. “In fifteen minutes you won’t want to go anywhere.”

Liam kicked at the ground some more. “Have you done this before?”

“No,” she said simply. “But the dad is famous. I don’t think his stuff is weak.”

Peaches had gone home to shower and change the minute school got out. She’d emailed Greg and Liam to tell them she wouldn’t be home for dinner. Texting was too immediate. Whenever she didn’t want her family members to hear about something right away but wanted them to know she’d made the effort to keep them informed, she sent an email. Greg wouldn’t be home until seven. By then she’d be naked in bed with Stuart Little or eating canapés with Mandy and Stuart and Ted. What did one wear to sleep with a man she’d just kissed, or alternatively, eat dinner with his wife and child? Were her V-neck maroon sweater dress and knee-high boots too un-nurse-like? Fuck it. She left the house again before she could change her mind. What should she bring? Flowers? No, flowers were in poor taste if Mandy was sick and wasn’t ever getting better. Wine seemed like a worse idea. Peaches kissed people who were not her husband when she drank alcohol. She’d bring dessert, a key lime pie.

Never before had she felt this nervous. Her hands shook as she passed a twenty to the checkout guy at Union Market.

“Do you need a bag, ma’am?”