Arno doesn’t answer, but something about the force with which he flicks his butt out the window tells me that he’s pissed off. “Looked like Tinsley was waiting for something when we dropped her off,” he says.

“Nothing important.”

“Didn’t look that way to me.”

“Leave it alone, man. It’s been a bizarre night. Let’s go home.”

“You’re such an asshole,” he grumbles. “And a lucky fuck.”

“Jesus, Arno, what are you so angry about? You worried that Tinsley thinks you’re a wuss because you didn’t do anything at the beach?”

“If only she knew what a wuss you once were,” he mutters peevishly.

“Robin did.”

“Nah. Back then she didn’t know you existed. Tinsley know about her?”

“What difference does it make?”

“But Robin doesn’t know about Tinsley, right?”

I stare out into the night as we pass dark house after dark house. God, how I wish sometimes that Arno would get a life of his own so he didn’t have to be so wrapped up in mine.

“Well?” he noodges.

“Arno, I don’t know what crawled up your rectum and died tonight, but either drop it or pull over and let me out.”

He responds by speeding up. “What happens at the end of the summer when Robin comes home?”

“What happens next week when the three of us go up to the festival and instead of hanging out, you have to spend every waking moment trying to unload that huge stash of acid?”

“There’s no way I’m gonna be able to sell all that shit at Bucknell.” He’s practically yelling now. “I don’t even know if there are two thousand kids in the whole student body.”

“Well, why the hell do you have to do crap like that anyway?” It’s my turn to practically yell. I’m not sure where it’s coming from. Pent-up tension? Aggravation? Frustration that Arno values the almighty dollar as much as, if not more than, our friendship? “It’s not like you need the money. The only reason you sell drugs is because you think it makes you look cool. Want to be cool, Arno? Stop wearing aftershave, start wearing bell-bottoms, and trade this stupid car in for a Volvo!”

The radio’s on low, playing Dylan’s “Visions of Johanna.” We cruise in near silence. It’s not the first time we’ve yelled at each other. Probably won’t be the last. But I’ve hurt his feelings.

“Sorry, man, I shouldn’t have said that. I just don’t know why you can’t leave my life alone. Want to know what’s really going on? Robin dumped me.”

Arno shrugs dismissively. “So? You’ve still got Tinsley.”

“No, Arno, I don’t still have Tinsley. It’s not the same. I realize this may come as a shock to you, but human beings aren’t interchangeable.”