Chapter Eight

“Why do you suppose Margaret wants to have dinner with us?” Mark asked taking a deep breath from the hookah pipe blowing brilliant circles. “Check that out!” He laughed.

“I don’t know.” Hayley lay back on the couch staring at the ceiling. “I didn’t like the tractor ride the hay was itchy. It’s a good thing I brought my moisturizing cream.”

“Your turn,” Mark passed the pipe to Sarah who didn’t seem too keen.

“C’mon Sarah, you gotta chill,” Hayley said. “You did promise me that you’d try it.”

She grimaced, “Alright.” She took a long deep breath as she sucked on the pipe and began coughing relentlessly. The back of her throat felt like it was burning. “I don’t like this.”

“Hey, not like that.” Mark took the pipe away from her. He sucked on the pipe slowly, the bubbling of the water in the hookah made a slurping noise; he held for a moment and blew out another circle. “Like that.” He nodded his head proudly. “Go gently, don’t pull hard. Try again.