---September 17th, 2008, 9:57 PM, Outside Amy Riley’s Home---

 

Evan watches as the police sirens fade into the distance, his arm around Amy’s trembling shoulders. He begins to lead her to his house, all the while listening to her frightened murmurs.

 

“Find me…kill me….gonna get me….not safe…”

 

In an attempt to comfort her, Evan squeezes her shoulder, speaking soothing words.

 

“He’s not going to kill you, he’s probably not even conscious at this point. You really did a number on him. By the looks of him, he’ll either be blind in one eye, have trouble speaking, or both, and he’s in excruciating pain. It’s very unlikely that he’ll be able to see through the pain. You don’t have to worry anyways, my house is like a fortress, and there are so many locks on all the doors that the frame would have to be ripped clean off for anyone to get in.”

 

Evan leads Amy up his walkway and to his door. He removes his arm from her shoulders and looks down into her fear-filled eyes.

 

“I’m gonna go inside and explain what’s going on, you wait here. I’ll be back in a bit.”

 

Evan opens his front door and steps inside, closing it behind him, leaving Amy on the doorstep, eyes looking all around the street for any sign of a threat. Back and forth, up and down the street her eyes go. She spots a flash of movement to her left, turns towards it, sees only a squirrel. Hoping to calm herself down, Amy sits on the concrete porch, leaning against the door frame. She draws her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them, hugging them close to her. She rests her head on the frame as well and closes her eyes, waiting for Evan to come back with news. After Several more minutes, the front door opens and Evan sticks his head out. He looks around for a few seconds, before looking down, finally locating her.

 

“Okay, all set, come on in.”

 

Amy looks up at him from her perch on his porch, a look of surprise on her face.

 

“Really? You weren’t in there for very long.”

 

Evan shrugs, leading her inside as he responds.

 

“What can I say; my grandparents are very accommodating people.”

 

Evan leads her down to his room in the basement, turning on the chain of halogen lights embedded in his ceiling, bathing the room in fluorescent light. Evan flops down into his leather office chair, spinning around slightly due to his odd way of sitting down, while Amy sits on the edge of the bed, still very tense. She holds her arms across her chest, shoulders drawn up tight, looking all around for any kind of threat, though, just a few days ago, she felt completely safe in Evans room. Evan easily notices her posture and comes to a decision; he gets up from his chair and looks at Amy.

 

“You need to relax, and I think I’ve got just the thing…”

 

Evan gets up and walks over to a door set under the staircase, Amy’s eyes following his movement. He opens the door, concealing its contents from Amy. He reaches in and grabs something from off the wall. He turns back towards Amy, his hands behind his back, and kicks the door closed. He sidles up to his bed goofily, jamming to music that wasn’t there. He sits down next to Amy, the concealed items now on his side, still out of Amy’s viewpoint. Amy begins to peek at the concealed items, but Evan blocks her view more.

 

“And here we….go.”

 

Evan pulls out one of the concealed items, handing it to Amy as he does.

 

“A Coke can?”

 

Amy looks up at the half crushed can in her hand, noting that there is a slit in the dip in the can, and that slit appears to have been blackened by direct contact with a flame. She gives Evan an odd look and hands the can back to him. He winks at her as he places the can down at his side. He reaches back to his other side, grasping something else, the slight crinkle of plastic exhuming from it. He whips the item up into view, unrolling the baggie as he does. Amy peers close at the baggie, which appears to have dark green oregano in it.

 

“What’s with the oregano?”

 

As Evan opens the bag, he picks the can back up. He reaches into the bag and grabs a pinch o the stuff. He sets it on the can, over the slit, forming it and shaping it as close as he can to the center.

 

“Oh, this isn’t oregano….”

 

Something suddenly clicks in Amy’s mind, maybe the smell did it, maybe it was from some television commercial, but she figures out what it is in a hurry.

 

“I never took you for a pothead.”

 

Evan pulls a Zippo out of his pocket and holds the can close to his face, studying his homemade bong.

 

“I’m not, not really anyways. I don’t do it very often; I've had this baggie for about six months now. I only do it when I’ve had a shitty day, or need to relax, and you, my dear, need to relax. Since I now know you’ve never done it before, I’m going to assist you.”

 

“But what if I don’t want to do it?”

 

“Why then, I’m not going to make you. You can just sit there and watch me do it.”

 

Evan puts the drinking hole of the can to his lips, lights the lighter, and sets fire to the pot on the can. As he breathes in, the green leaves ignite, burning black, the smoke filtering through the can and into Evans lungs. With his lungs full, Evan lowers the can, holding the smoke in. With a choked cough, he says something to Amy.

 

“Shotgun!”

 

“Wha-mmmphm!”

 

As soon as she opens her mouth, Evan lunges forwards and plants a kiss on her open mouth. He holds her in place, breathing the smoke into her lungs for her. After several seconds, he breaks the kiss and watches as Amy coughs the smoke out. She gets off the bed, still stuck in a coughing fit, while Evan chuckles at her, preparing to take another hit. Just as Amy finishes her coughing fit, Evan draws in more smoke from the can. Amy walks back to the bed, a very pissed off look on her face. Evan looks up at her and allows the smoke to billow out through his nose, attempting to get her to laugh, but he only makes her angrier. She punches him in the shoulder and sits back on the bed, arms crossed over her chest, back to him. He laughs at her and starts coughing himself, the smoke exploding out of his mouth. He gets over the cough easily and sets the still-smoking can down. He turns towards Amy and scoots closer to her. He wraps his arms around her stomach, pulling her close to him, resting his chin on her shoulder, kissing her on her neck as he speaks to her.

 

“Come on now, don’t be mad. You’ll thank me in about fifteen minutes, I promise. I’m not going to do that again, so just relax and wait for the enjoyable effects to come.”

 

She leans into his kisses, her body language softening.

 

“You’re lucky you’re so good at that…”

 

Evan straightens up, pulling her into a seated position next to him, unwrapping himself from her. He reaches down and grabs the can off the floor. He relights it and takes another hit, this time blowing smoke rings in the air. Amy watches on, face twisted in a mixture of disgust and curiosity. Evan takes a final pull on the can, the marijuana in the center reduced to blackened ashes. He stands up, walks over to his trash can, and grabs an empty Coke bottle. He opens it and blows the smoke into it, sealing the lid as fast as he can. He sets the smoke-filled bottle on his desk, the smoke swirling all around in it, trying to find a way to escape. Evan grabs a full Coke bottle off his floor, ripping it from the plastic packaging. He opens the bottle and drinks from it, draining a quarter of the bottle in one gulp. He walks back to his bed and sits down next to Amy again. Coming to a decision, Amy sighs. She looks down at the floor, before surprising Evan.

 

“Reload the can.”

 

Evan looks at her incredulously, not believing his ears.

 

“I’m sorry, I must be high already, what did you say?”

 

“You heard me; reload the can. Cant have you be the only one not feeling like shit.”

 

Evan grabs the baggie off the bed and takes another pinch of the leaves out of the bag. He sets them on the can and shapes them, before handing the can to Amy.

 

“Okay, you’ve seen me do it, you know how, but, here are a few tips. Breathe in as much as you can, hold the smoke in for as long as possible to maximize the effects. Release the smoke slowly, otherwise you’ll cough some more. Now, it’ll burn when you do it, so don’t panic, its normal, and that’s what the Coke is here for.”

 

Amy puts the can to her mouth, waiting for Evan to light it. He sparks the Zippo and ignites the plant, watching as Amy breathes in, taking a mighty hit from the bong. She pulls the can away from her mouth and holds the smoke in, clearly struggling with it. She finally coughs the smoke out after several seconds, though not as bad as when Evan surprised her.

 

“Not bad for a beginner. It’s your lucky day; you get to finish this one off.”

 

Evan hands her the lighter and gets off the bed, heading over to his desk. He sits in hi chair and begins to rummage through the drawers, hearing Amy spark the lighter again. Evan tosses out item after item, searching for something. He finds the object and sits back up just in time to see Amy exhale more smoke, this time without the coughing fit. Evan closes the drawers and gets up from his seat, heading over to Amy, who had just finished off her round at the can. He plops down on the bed next to her, bouncing her into the air a bit. She sets the can and lighter down, noticing that she had burned all the grass. She scoots onto the bed all the way, crossing her legs under her knees, staring at Evan.

 

“Now what?”

 

“Now you get to se a product of my boredom.”

 

Evan opens his hand, revealing the object. It is a white contact lens container. He pops it open, revealing two ordinary looking contact lenses. A confused look comes over Amy’s face; she voices this confusion, her voice a bit gravelly from the smoke.

 

“I must be more stoned than I thought, because all I see are contact lenses.”

 

“Close, but way off.”

 

Evan removes one of the lenses and puts it in place, repeating it with the other lens one he finishes with the first. He blinks several times, getting used to the lenses, before looking at Amy.

 

“Once again, I must be more stoned than I thought, because I see no change.”

 

“That’s because I haven’t turned them on yet. Give me a second to do so, and you’ll see. I tied them into my watch, same thing with all my inventions, it’s the only thing I can easily take apart and mess with without it breaking.”

 

Evan pushes one of the dozens of buttons surrounding the face of the watch and, right before Amy’s eyes; his own eyes flash blood red, then return to their normal brown color. Amy’s eyes open wide, clearly impressed.

 

“Nice trick.”

 

“Just another thing I do to deflect the terrible terrible boredom. Whenever I activate them, it flashes like that. I tied to make them stay that color, but, I never could. I’ve messed with a few people with them before, always scares the hell out of them, so, a flash isn’t so bad, plus, they’re self moisturizing, so, no discomfort. Hell, sometimes I forget to take them out.”

 

“You have too much free time on your hands.”

 

“Yes, yes I do.”

 

Evan glances over at the clock on his nightstand, which reads 2:06 AM. He turns back and notices that Amy’s eyes have taken on the classic stoner look: bloodshot, milky, pupils dilated. After several seconds of silence under Evans continuous stare, Amy begins to feel odd.

 

“What? Is my hair on fire?”

 

Evan shakes himself out of his daze, blinking several times, focusing again.

 

“Huh?”

 

“You were just staring at me, not blinking, not saying anything, so, I figure, something must be wrong.”

 

Evan shakes his head quickly.

 

“Oh no, no no no no no. Absolutely nothing is wrong right now. I was hypnotized by your beauty, that’s all. I just can’t get over it, even at 2 AM, even with those stoner eyes, you are incredible.”

 

Amy blushes under his praise, smiling a small, embarrassed smile. She forces the blush away and takes a deep breath, deciding to pull a geek move.

 

“Face it, tiger, you hit the jackpot.”

 

Evan immediately catches the reference and begins to chuckle, trying to keep It from escalating, but is unsuccessful. He bursts out into full blown laughter, flopping back on the bad, overcome with happiness. After several minutes of laughter, Amy having joined in, Evan sits up, his laughter fades out. He sighs, before killing the mood.

 

“Okay, bedtime. Its 2 in the morning, and we’ve got school tomorrow, which will suck anyways. You’ll probably want to shower, so, it’s through that door there. I’ll probably be asleep by the time you’re done, if I’m on the bed, just shove me off, I’m going to sleep on my chair.”

 

Amy nods and gets off the bed. She grabs the black duffel back she packed before attacking her father, taking it into the bathroom, giving Evan a wink before she closes the door. Evan shakes his head, a smile on his face. Evan pulls himself off the bed and walks over to his dresser. He opens the bottom left drawer and removes his pair of dark red pajama bottoms, the words ‘Coca Cola’ emblazoned on them in various places. He nearly hops out of his jeans and into the pajamas, leaving his Kill Em All t-shirt on. He walks back to his bed, his steps heavy with marijuana-induced weariness. He falls onto his bed, head flat on his pillow, leg hanging off the side of the bed. Almost as soon as his head hit the pillow, he was asleep.

 

Ten minutes later, the bathroom door opens, steam billowing out it. Amy steps out of the room, now dressed in just a mid-thigh length t-shirt, hair still damp, hanging in a loose mass at her back. She creeps up to Evans bed, not wanting to wake him. She grabs the cover from where it had been hurled during their toke session and drapes it over him. Making a quick decision, she throws a corner of the cover back, climbing into bed beside him. This extra person beside him quickly wakes Evan up. As he begins to climb out of the bed, a word from Amy halts his process.

 

“Stay. Please.”

 

Evan lies back down, facing Amy’s back. He extends his right arm across her abdomen, drawing her close to him, her body now pressed against his. The smell of her strawberry shampoo fills his nostrils, drowning out the smell of the pot. He feels her breathing steady out, knowing that she is now asleep. He quickly follows her example, having set his lights on a timer earlier that day; they shut off ten minutes later.