‘Thomas. THOMAS. Would you fucking pay attention here for just a second? Tara’s been crying like crazy and I can’t get her to sto—what the fuuuuuck man, why’s she screaming? Tara, stop screaming!’

I threw a ten-dollar antique finish Chinese vase from Target at the wall.

‘Tara, just calm down. We had too much and then the milk— it’s just that—Asher, what the hell are you doing?’

‘I’m going home. Tara’s freaking me the fuck out. Move, Thomas, I am not okay, I gotta go.’

‘Asher, you can’t go home like this! How can you go home like this?’ Thomas was starting to panic as well; I could feel it and it made me feel a little better.

‘I can’t stay here, okay? She’s freaking me out!’

‘Tara, shut the fuck up, you’re freaking us all out! The neighbours are gonna come in here!’

‘Good! They need to come and call the cops! Jane, I’m telling you, this can’t just be weed! It’s been laced with something, I can tell. Like, I think I’m dying—just listen to me!’

‘Tara, it’s only weed, okay? We just had too much. Just calm down, please.’

Asher left.

From the coffee table, a plastic car smiled at me. I held up the Happy Meal toy. ‘Should I hold on to this as my totem pole? Will that help?’

‘What?’

‘Like in Inception. The totem pole. I feel like I’m slipping between worlds—can’t hold on to a thought.’

‘Yeah, yeah, do that, that’ll help.’

Things slowed down. Jane, Thomas and I climbed into bed. We spent the night cuddled up together, panicking at intervals and eventually falling into a fitful sleep. I woke up the next day, still high, and tried to go to class. But I got lost and scared on the way and hid in the basement of the Chemical Engineering building.

We met at Jack’s early the next evening. I walked in, my mind still unsteady, and saw Asher sitting at a table, sipping wine.

The place was packed, as all bars around campus were. Our school had just won another football game. Yay, or something. To me, the streets and bars looked like the majestic home of some rich, happy cult. Which, in some ways, I suppose it was. Students milled around in college colours, talking excitedly about the football victory last night, like they’d scored the damn goals themselves, like it even mattered.

Asher and I drank our wine in disdain. Never. We would never be part of this cult. We would never walk around declaring affi liations on our clothes, never go to football games and roar investment. We were way too cool for that. We were apathy, jaded irony, Skrillex before the Rolling Stone cover, Florence before Eat, Pray Love, and moth-eaten shirts at ninety dollars a pop.