“Where is it, where is it. . . . Ah. Here we go!”

He stood up and proudly held aloft a crumpled McDonald’s bag.

“That’s it?” Sabrina said.

Eric climbed out of the box and closed the lid.

“Shine the light,” he said.

He set the bag down, opened it up, and removed a used Big Mac box, two hamburger wrappers, and a used cup, still with the straw.

“I can see you’re not impressed,” he said. “But behold. . . .”

He opened the Big Mac box. The container was brimming with fresh, fragrant marijuana buds. As were the hamburger wrappers and the soda cup. Sabrina had seen marijuana before—small amounts of it, usually in the form of joints—but she had never seen this much. This was an extremely illegal amount of marijuana. A scholastic-career-ending amount. A definitely arrestable, criminal record amount.

“No one looks at trash,” Eric said with a smile. “Especially trash inside of something that also looks like trash, out in the middle of the woods. Pretty clever, wouldn’t you say?”

“I guess.”

“You guess? I’ll have to try harder. Come on. Time to get to work.”

Back in the clearing, things were looking much more inviting and cheerful. There was a fire going, and a camp lantern sat on one of the logs. Two sleeping bags had been unzipped and spread out as blankets, their soft plaid flannel insides resting upward. The portable tape player was piping more Led Zeppelin into the velvety darkness. (They were Diane’s favorite band. Sabrina didn’t like them at all, but if you hung out with Todd and Diane, you had to get used to it.) Todd and Diane were stretched out on one of the sleeping bags, munching on chips and staring up at the sky.

“Behold!” Eric said, brandishing the bag aloft. “Your milkman cometh!”

He cupped his free hand over his mouth and made the tooting sound of a triumphant horn. He and Sabrina sat down on the other sleeping bag, which had been opened up for them. Eric handed the bag to Diane, who set it down on a stolen dining pavilion tray. She moved the lantern a bit closer and dumped out the contents of the Big Mac box and picked through it expertly.

“And now, we roll,” Eric said, grabbing a handful of chips, “for rolling is a part of the service. First ones are always for us. No one beats Diane. She’s a machine.”

Diane was working smoothly, plucking the buds. In the space of only a few moments, she had rolled the first joint, which she passed to Eric. She kept right on rolling, her movements hypnotic. Eric put the joint between his lips and lit it, then took a long inhale and passed it to Todd. Todd did the same, and then passed it to Diane, who didn’t look up from her efforts as she took her hit. It ended up with Sabrina, who took it and held it. She could hear the gentle sizzle of the paper.