Destiny lit up, and the aroma of sweet-smelling smoke startled Shawna for a second. If they got caught doing a joint, they would be in what Destiny referred to as "bang-dead trouble." But, as Destiny also said—"Who cares?" No camp rules, no nosy mother or father, and no Bible verses were going to keep Shawna from doing what she wanted to do.
Destiny offered her the smoldering joint. She cautiously sucked a little smoke into her mouth, held it there as long as she could, and blew it out in Destiny's direction. "Mm, nasty," she hummed, pretending to enjoy it. Shawna liked the idea of smoking pot more than she liked smoking it.
"We've got to get going," Destiny urged. Relieved to end the marijuana cigarette charade, Shawna dropped the joint to the dirt and ground it out with the toe of her boot. Destiny swore. "That was no cheap Camel smoke you just pulverized; that was five bucks' worth of primo weed," she complained. "Sorry, that was dumb," she mumbled in embarrassment, "I'll pay you back, I swear." Destiny didn't reply. Instead, she waved Shawna to follow her to the road.
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