smokeSCREEN : book6.1

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4:20

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you're looking down again / and then you looked me over / we're laying down again / on a blanket in the clover / the same boy you've always known / well i guess i haven't grown // same boy you've always known //

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* * *

After two weeks, we're suddenly a family.

Given that it's year fourteen, it falls to Floor One to make a new claim for leadership. Seeing as Floor One's leader is Phoebe, she's back in the saddle again but infinitely more easygoing. We have a steady rotation of scouts in the city around us, plus a full compliment of sentries around the tower walls, but most of the effort is put into repairing our way of life. With Martha wanting more work on cars, I opted to get our greenhouse working again and headed to the basements.

In my Fortress of Underground Solitude I'm keenly unaware of the social goings-on around, but I observe a lot through my floor. The boys are integrating, perfectly.

Josh has developed a keen instinct for keeping Lisa satisfied as she either regains her health or gets worse – we really can't tell – and Phoebe was kind enough to assign him as Lisa's personal Nurse until she's up and about again. He makes sure she's well-fed, clean, entertained and anything else he can set his mind to. Justin, strangely enough, quietly goes about his menial duties as a scout and guard without complaining. Much like Cypress, he's strangely serious about it all, but enjoys it nonetheless.

I'm staring at him over one of Cypress's old National Geographics right now – I like the pictures. Or that's my explanation – I'm staring at Justin, who is eating a breadstick.

What right does he have to be so cheery?

"So you're down in the Growhouse now," he says suddenly – I purposefully look up from my magazine.

"Why?" is all I can think to ask.

"Maybe… Phoebe thought it was best?"

"No, I mean why do you ask?"

"Nothin', just… I hear you guys were all into growin' pot." I cock the brow over my eye.

"Uh-huh?"

"Well, it's been like, a long time, and I could…" he pauses, like he's not sure if he should proceed, but adds, "I could sure go for a good hoot."

My cocky eyebrow has settled – what?

"I thought you guys never smoked pot."

"Well, you see magazines, you find it, you try it – whatever."

"How many of you?"

"Smoke?"

"Yeah."

"Three that I know of, self included."

A broad smile spreads across my face, and I point a finger.

"You're totally a chronic, aren't you?"

"What's chronic?"

"Gram a day."

"Well, yeah."

"Fuck – let's go smoke a bowl." I thumb over my shoulder towards the stairwell and he nods, munching on the breadstick as we go.
He needed a redeeming quality.

We share that bowl, and many more as the days start to swing by. Phoebe's impressed with my work, and when Reiko from Floor six applied for my post as an Alpha, Phoebe shot her down and let me pick a new assistant instead. Reiko was assigned to the courtyard garden.

For first few weeks she came down here every few days, borrowing this or that, all the while making snitty comments about my fledgeling crop. Reiko all tall and perfectly-proportioned and cute with her almond eyes and full lips and the only thing that gets that bitch out of my mind wears a worn-out baseball cap.

Today, he comes up behind me as I lean my jaw on my knuckles, staring at a little budlet that's seen fit to pop up.

My vision goes black, and I bat Justin's hand away, not looking from my tiny plant.

"Stop doing that," I tell him.

"This place looks so much better."

"Well, they fucked up the lights pretty bad, I had to do some running around to replace 'em."

"What's that?"

He's looking over my shoulder, I can tell.

"It's my plant."

"What kind?"

"Tobacco."

"Wacky tabacky?"

"The wackiest." I finally turn to him, and smile as he presents me with a plate of food. Good food, too – the kitchen's been running for ten days, now.

"This is all you guys grow?"

"We keep the veggies one floor down," I tell him through my food. "I'll get to that in a couple of weeks."

"So, I'm doin' my circuit, right?"

I know this voice – this is 'Justin's-got-something-he-thinks-is-important' voice, and I roll my eye as I eat.

"And guess what trots right up to me, not growlin' or nothin?"

"What?"

"A big fuckin' black wolf."

"Fuck off."

"Phoebe's got it upstairs – it's friendly as all Hell, too. We think it's Cypress's."

"This I gotta' see," I put my plate down.

"What, right now?"

I pause. Should we…?

"Alright, one bowl," I nod.

"Atta girl."

* * *

Stoned out of our minds, my toque and his baseball cap pulled down low over our eyes, we wander, giggling, upstairs.

Justin's great being stoned with – I do get the vibe, but everyone else probably does too, he's so Goddamn friendly. Point is, he makes you laugh a lot. It takes us a while to get out to the courtyard, and when we do a circle's already formed around Phoebe and the wolf.

It's weird, even though she sold us out to the old ones, everyone's had a renewned faith in Phoebe. She seems to be making all the right calls, though I personally don't buy it.

She's sitting in front of the wolf, stroking it's head. As soon as I step into view the beast jumps to her feet and trots over to me.

"Hi Douglas," I say politely. The wolf isn't as scary as Crow made it out to be.

"How did you know his name?"

"Her name – Crow told me."

Phoebe shakes her head and stands.

"I thought you knew what to do when and if this dog showed up," she says.

"He just told us to wait for the wolf," Justin recites, kneeling to the shaggy beast. "Now what? Woof."

Douglas is not amused. She looks up at me, puzzled as she pants.

Now she looks questioningly, asking 'why did you leave them?'

"It's not like she tried to get me to follow her or anything," Justin shrugs.

"But still, he sent her up here," Martha says. "That means they're alive."

"That means he's alive. Michelle and Richard could be dead," Justin says.

"And the others."

"We're a decent size already – sixty can hold its own."

"That's not the point-"

"Sophie – what does the dog want?" Phoebe snaps at me.

Pressure.

I look at Douglas, and she pants up at me in the hot sun.

"The dog wants water."

* * *

Douglas seems to like me. I say this because she won't go away, not that she's offered deeper insight into Cypress's situation. The Alphas are meeting right now up in Fourteen with Phoebe to discuss a broader plan. Do we stay and wait for Cypress? Do we continue the River plan? Does Justin like me? Like, like me like me?

"Who are you talking to?" Anze pops an eyebrow at me.

"What?"

I just noticed her. She's carrying two five-pound bags of weed. Her hair, once a brilliant green is a pale, pale off-white. I'd never noticed how white it was before – but her natural color is closer to silver than blond.

For some reason, it makes her eyes greener.

"Why are you staring at me like that?" she asks, stepping back.

"I'm not." I pull my toque down.

"You're totally stoned."

"I'm the official Tower Potgrower, d'think I'm a nun?"

Her jaw drops and she shrieks, "You fucked Justin!"

My jaw drops and I shout, "What? I'm stoned! Who fucked Justin?"

"You."

"Since when? I hope it was good."

I find a smoke – it's real good. Smokes are always better when you're stoned.

"Well did you?"

"I just said, no. He's not sayin' that, is he?"

And now she blushes a deep pink as she says;

"Well, no, you just hear things."

"From who?"

"Wwww…. Where do I put these?" she asks.

"Hold your arms out."

"How?"

"Hold the bags out – stretch your arms."

"Ah… okay…"

"Okay – hold it," I tell her.

"What?"

"The bags go right there. Now who said what?"

She drops her arms, and sticks out her tongue.

"You can't torture me, it's against Tower rules, I'm not tellin' you shit."

"Did he say something?" I ask as she trots off to the Dry Room.

She spins, walking backwards as she goes, sticks out her tongue again and says, "Not shit." The whole thing might have been very sharp if she hadn't smacked right into Him, of all people.

As he helps her up, she whispers, "Did you sleep with her?"

"Anze!" I bark.

"Did she say that?"

"Sorry – I'm stupid," she tells him, giggling. He hands her the second bag as she adds, "I'm stoned," and walks off.

Huh… she didn't seem stoned to me. But it does explain a lot – she's been acting weird, despite working out well as an assistant.

Nevermind – Justin's walking up now. I can't pull the toque quite low enough, but before I try I can tell he's smiling.

"Are you goin' around tellin' people we're all together?" I ask quickly, dryly.

"Never said shit. But whatever – people talk, it's what they do."

"I guess so."

Let me say, firmly, that Justin and I have never held hands. Never kissed. Neverwhatever. It's been five weeks, and there've been no signs, no hints. Just a vibe – sorta.

I turn around and look back to my plants. They're getting big pretty quick.

And why would there be signs, or hints? I remind myself. 'Cause who wants a five-foot-cyclops, covered with scars?

"Jesus, you're good at this."

"It's a miracle," I nod at them, proudly.

"Pfft – act of God?" He shakes his head, and says, "It's an act o'Sophie."

I grin widely, but inside take a long, sad sigh. I'm glad he's on my left side, 'cause he won't be able to see my patch when he invariably-

"Give it back," I snap.

"Why do you always wear this thing?" He twirls my toque on long fingers.

"Why do you always wear that stupid cap?" I point at his old, worn red hat.

"It's not stupid! Bubba-Gump Shrimp! Don't you remember that fuckin' movie with the on on the bench – the guy from Saving Private Ryan? My dad made us watch it a million times, it was awesome."

And I'm taken aback. But still I point at my toque and say,

"That's a… it's mine."

I open my hand for it, and he drops the his BubbaGump cap into it, pulling my toque over his eyes.

"Christ, it fits," he grins. "Trade?"

"Are you serious?"

"Would'ja?"

I try the cap and it fits.

"Totally." I'm grinning too, now.

"This is why people think you're sleeping together," Anze calls – we peer back at her. She's holding another two bags.

"Get back to work, Babe," I snap at her, and she continues on.

"'Babe'?" asks Justin.

"It's her rank, 'cause she's so much younger than all of us."

"She's nineteen."

"No she's not, she's seventeen. In three months she'll be eighteen," I tell him.

"Are you sure?"

"Positive – I was her babysitter."

"You were not a babysitter…" she hurries off to the Curing Room for another pair of bags.

"No, I just had to teach her everything because she couldn't figure it out."

"Yeah? Like what?" she calls back. I wait 'till she's out of earshot and whisper,

"Like her period."

Justin nods, and says; "What's a period?"

"Nevermind – make yourself useful, grab the end of this and help me move it."

"I'm just fuckin' with you – I know what it is," he leans down and places his hands deep underneath the table and lifts the whole thing, plants and all.

Ooh, tough guy, I'm thinkin'. Way to impress me. That's right – hold it for a second.

"…really," I grin.

"Yeah – I can read. The period comes at the end of a sentence."

"You can read?" I nod, giving my best I'm-impressed face.

"S'why I got busted down to nurse," he nods.

Keep holdin' it up, tough guy.

"…really."

"Where would'ja like this?"

"Too heavy?"

"No, just wanna' be productive."

"Down that hall, a hundred yards – tenth door on the left."

"Fuck off…" He sets it back down again, and frowns at me. "You're messin' with me." Accusing eyes. Have I told you about his eyes?

"Anze?" I call over my shoulder. "Where's the Blueberry Room?"

"Hundred and twenty yards – eleventh door on the right."

He glances down at the picture of blue berries, stuck into the middle of the trays of plants. Not the colour of real blueberries – more of a sky blue.

"You were gonna' have me go a hundred twenty yards?"

I pout and bat my eye, and do my best ingenue; "Well I'm so weak and helpless, you strong manny-man."

"This is why people think you're- "

"Shut up, Anze!"

He looks down, and nudges the concrete with the steel toe of his boot.

"…I'm not all tryin' to impress you."

"Well if you are, I'm totally not fallin' for it."

"This is why people-"

Justin spins to her and says quickly, calmly;

"Anze, I'll smoke a bowl with you later if you just… shyaddup."

She mimes locking her lips and throwing away the key, and returns to moving the bags.

Justing leans against the countertop and looks back at her with me.

"Since when is she out of the kitchen permanent?"

"She asked for a transfer," I say. "One of the guy soldiers wanted to go in for kitchen duty, as a chef. The guy soldier was replaced by Donna, the old assistant, who wanted more action. Phoebe offered me a new assistant, so Anze's here full-time."

He nods, "Phoebe's real cool about that stuff, huh?"

"She is now. She's totally different."

"Anze's comin' along as a good little stoner," he says, lighting a cigarette.

"I know – I even have her passing a joint the right way."

I light a smoke for myself, and we're content to puff for a moment or two.
"…and I wasn't all tryin' to be sweet when we traded caps," he reassures me.

"Well don't think I was," I shrug. "I got ten more of those upstairs." For some reason his face goes limp, and he nods.

"Oh," mumbling, "…that's cool."

"Hey," I punch his shoulder. "I like it. It's cool. Now help me move this. Lift at the knees, here we go…"

* * *

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dead leaves and the dirty ground when i know you're not around / shiny tops and the soda pops when i hear your lips make a sound

thirty notes in the mailbox will tell you that i'm comin' home / and i think i'm gonna' stick around for a while so you're not alone

if you can hear a piano fall you can hear me comin' down the hall / if i could just hear your pretty voice, i don't think i need to see at all

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* * *

And so, it finally becomes clear to me, what everyone else had known for weeks;

I love him. Previously, I'd acknowledged to myself I had something of a crush on him, being such a damn nice guy and all…

But now it's clear to me, so naturally I'm depressed – wallowing in my plants. Because even having established that I'm all about Justin, I'm still left with the fact that Justin treats everyone as nice as he treats me. And so I wallow in my work.

Right now I'm going over a table of budding plants, searching for the males. I patiently going from plant to plant with a magnifying glass, squinting my one good eye.
Allow me to let you in on a little marijuana horticulture; it's the female plants that produce THC – the chemical that gets you high. They produce this to attract the male plants – to entice the males to start making pollen. Once the females are pollenated, they shut down THC production. If they're not pollenated, they'll continue until it's dripping off. Obviously, the male plants are kept on a separate floor.

But in every new crop of plants, there's bound to be males, and it's always best to find 'em before they even start to really leaf. So I squint into the magnifying glass with my one good eye.

"You okay?" Anze sips her morning coffee. She was up late with Justin last night – he shared a lot more than one bowl with her – their chatting in the common area kept me up 'till two or so.

"Got one of those for me?"

"Is that my job now?"

"Yes – you're the assistant."

"Losta cream, lotsa sugar?" she holds up a big mug.

"Yeah…" I reach for it. "Thanks."

She leans against the counter with me and we each take a long sip, and a long breath.

"Who made this coffee?"

"Some ex-soldier guy Herskie," she shrugs.

"It's pretty good."

"Yeah, all this time we thought they couldn't cook…"

"You're really growing up," I tell her. She shrugs again.

"We all grew up. Why is that dog always here?" Anze points her toe at Douglas, who lies sleeping under a table of plants.

"She's a wolf, Anze – give her some respect."

"So she's yours now?"

"She likes me, for some reason."

"Do you get anything from her?"

"Nothin'. She just sleeps," I say. In response, Douglass huffs and turns her head in the opposite direction. "…but she listens to me."

Anze frowns and says, "That's creepy. So Justin and I talked for a while last night."

"I know, you kept me up."

"So you know what he said?"

"No, I just heard the sound of it – just natter-natter-natter-natter-natter-natter for like, three hours straight."

"Whatever, he said he wanted to party a little before he had to go out on that big three-day scouting run…"

She sips her coffee, nodding. Green, green eyes sparkling. I wish my eye was as bright as… one of hers.

"What did he say?"

"About what?"

"About me."

She sips her coffee and says, "So you're curious, now."

"Gimmie a break, Anze," I sigh into my mug. She's a good head taller than me now, finally had her last growth spurt – my baby girl. "What'd he say?"

"He doesn't understand why you don't like him."

"He thinks I don't like him?"

"So you do?"

"Of course I…"

"Hm," she grins. "I'll have to pass that along."

"Anze. Come on."

She shrugs, sets her mug down and finds a cigarette. Lighting it, she takes a drag before telling me, "He actually said… he said he doesn't understand why you never visit him."

"We talk all the time."

"No – he comes down here all the time. You never go see him on his shift."

"He's all the way out on scouting runs, how would I find him?"

"He does guard shifts at night."

"I sleep at night."

She throws up her hands before grabbing the coffee cup – she's done.

"That's just what he told me," she says, walking off to the dry room. "I'll be finished the bags today, what am I starting on next?"

"You wanna' learn how to grow?" I ask.

"Well – yeah," she nods.

"Good, you'll plant your first crop." I flip open a binder of symbols and trace my finger to a particular group of bags. The previous grower kept perfect records, based on a system of symbols of her own design – a series of coloured pictures with a series of numbers. I grab the crayons and quickly copy the crop name and location to a card, and hand it to Anze.

"This is the number for an O-bag," she says, and I nod.

"Yeah – I'm gonna' show you how to process seeds straight off the bud. After that, I'll show you how to find the male plants – it'll be fun."

She grins and hurries off to her work as I sip my coffee. Shit – I should have asked her for a cigarette, and I sigh down at my plants.

Why would he want a cut-up midget?

The dark clouds storm over my head again until Anze comes back in with the O. As I remove a stick of bud from the bag and she seals it back up before sitting beside me and saying,

"He's totally into you."

I needed that.

* * *

Stupid scouting runs. Why go all the way south? The dogs could be back. They could be back. There was way too many of them, and Cypress couldn't kill them all.