The Miseducation of Cameron Post

by Emily M. Danforth

She made tiny whistling noises as she breathed, like the last seconds of a Screaming Jenny firecracker.

These small offerings of food, of looking out for the kid, somehow made me feel more alone than when the secretaries didn’t remember to include me at all.

“Just wait, dude,” Jamie had said. “I’m serious. It’s fucking hard-core.” Since Jamie described everything from zombie movies to his parents’ fights to the new enchilada platter at Taco John’s as “fucking hard-core,” none of us could gauge much by it.

Bucking Horse Sale (BHS) put Miles City in the Guinness book of world records as the event that boasted “the most alcohol consumed within a two-block radius, per capita, in the United States.” Pretty impressive if you consider Mardi Gras in New Orleans or any major collegiate football game.

This is true.

In the embrace’s release I caught the scent again. Unmistakable. Marijuana. These homos were high as kites.

I didn’t want to be tricked into revealing anything important. I stayed quiet.