She inhaled, inhaled some more, kept pulling on the blunt until the end crisped down to halfway. All that green heaven in her lungs, but there was nothing as she blew it out. She remembered the first time she’d smoked, with her dad and his friend, at the back of the garden. And then Dad had leaned over and, right in front of his friend… and nobody cared. Nobody thought to care.

Somehow, the blunt had vanished. She’d smoked it down. She could hardly remember. She was so tired of feeling this way. She longed for that moment, the point when she’d told Scott about her plan. It had been perfect, everything as she’d arranged it, as though she was dreaming reality into being. She’d done it, once again, proven how much better she was.

Standing, she looked down at herself. Sometimes weed made her forget about her appearance, almost convinced her she was a scrawny girl again, her tights soaked in piss because she’d stupidly thought avoiding the toilet meant avoiding him.

“Him, him, him,” she said, thinking of Markus, of her father, of Scott, all of them useless and nothingy and hateful.

She turned, closing her eyes for a moment, steadying herself. She was getting all the physical side effects, sluggish and cloudy, without any of the mental clarity that normally came along with it. She’d left her treasure trove in the car’s glovebox; maybe she should go back.

But she was there for a reason.

That was it. Polly.

Her daughter was called Polly. That was so embarrassing she almost screamed. She sounded like a child’s toy or a pet.

She approached the school gates, taking out her phone and glancing at it. It was nearly three. That surely meant the children would be coming out soon. Casey wasn’t sure what time her daughter finished school; she only knew this was her school because she’d followed Markus a few times, just in case she needed access to her daughter.

Somebody approached, a woman who had way too many teeth. She looked like a fucking donkey. How could somebody show so many teeth while frowning?

“Hello, can I help you?” she asked, walking through the open gate.

“What?” Casey snapped.

The woman raised her hands. Casey tried to remember she had to pretend. She had to turn on the charm.

“Learned that skill from dear dead Daddy,” she told the donkey-toothed bitch.

“Excuse me?” The woman was trying to play the concerned citizen; Casey could already hear her bragging to her friends about the situation, about how well she’d handled it. There was this crazy lady outside school…

“Who are you?” Casey demanded.

“My name’s Judith. I’m a TA here. One of the parents mentioned you’d had a little exchange in the park?”

That upswing at the end of her sentence was the worst part, as if she was talking to a child.

“Have you been drinking today?”

“I’m waiting for my daughter, so kindly leave me alone.”