n buys a dime bag On Tuesday after school, Nate wandered into Central Park to check out the dealers in Sheep Meadow. He?d gone a full twenty-four hours without getting high, and instead of feeling healthy and energized, he was bored out of his drug-free mind. His classes at school seemed twice as long, and even Jeremy Scott Tompkinson?s lame-ass fart jokes barely made him crack a smile. The late afternoon sun hung low in the sky, casting an eerie golden glow on the frozen brown grass in the meadow. Two heavyset guys dressed in black sweatshirts with the wordStaff printed on the back were passing a football back and forth, and a tiny old woman wearing a red Chanel suit and a fox fur stole was walking her freshly groomed bichon frise. As usual, the dealers were all sitting on benches around the perimeter of the meadow, listening to WFAN on their Discmans or reading theDaily News . Nate spotted a familiar redheaded guy dressed in a light gray Puma tracksuit with matching gray-and-white Puma sneakers, gray wraparound shades, and a fuzzy black Kangol hat. ?Hey Mitchell!? Nate called delightedly. Damn, it was good to see him. Mitchell raised his hand in greeting as Nate walked over. ?I thought you were in Amsterdam, man.? Mitchell shook his head slowly. ?Not yet.? ?I?ve been looking for you. I was almost going to buy from one of those other dirtbags. You?re carrying, right?? Nate asked. Mitchell nodded and stood up. They began walking down the pathway together, just two friends taking a stroll in the park. Nate pulled a folded-up hundred-dollar bill from his coat pocket and held it in his fist, ready to slip it into Mitchell?s palm as soon as he passed over the goods. ?I got a new shipment in from Peru,? Mitchell said, pulling a plastic baggie of pot out of his pocket and handing it discreetly to Nate. If you happened to be in the park watching them, you might have thought they were just sharing a snack or something. That is, if you were completely na?ve. ?Thanks, man.? Nate handed over the hundred and tucked the plastic baggie into his coat pocket, breathing out a deep, relieved breath. Too bad he didn?t have any rolling papers with him or he would have rolled up a big fatty right then and there. ?So,? he said, figuring it was only polite to make some casual conversation with Mitchell before taking off. ?You still moving to Amsterdam or what?? Mitchell stopped walking and unzipped his Puma jacket. ?Nah. I?m stuck here for a while.? He pulled up his gray thermal shirt to reveal his bare, freckled chest. There were wires taped to it. Nate had seenLaw & Order enough times to know what those wires meant. The bleak scenery seemed to close in on him, and he stumbled backwards. Had he blacked out or something? Was this all a bad dream? Mitchell let his shirt drop and zipped his jacket up again. He took a step toward Nate, as if he was worried Nate would try to make a break for it. ?Sorry, kid. They got me. I?m working for the man now.? He jerked his head at the benches behind them. ?Those ?dirtbags? on the bench are all cops, okay, so don?t try to run. You and I are going to wait here until I give the sign, and then one of them is going to walk you down to the precinct on Amsterdam.Amsterdam ?pretty ironic, huh?? Nate could tell Mitchell was trying to get him to smile so the dealer wouldn?t have to feel so bad for busting him. ?Okay,? Nate said woodenly. How had this happened? He?d never been double-crossed before, and it was a pretty crappy feeling. He dropped the baggie of pot on the ground and kicked it away from him. ?Shit,? he swore under his breath. Mitchell picked up the baggie and put his hand on Nate?s shoulder. He raised his free hand in the air and waved to the cops on the benches. Two guys stood up and hurried over. They didn?t even look like cops. One of them was wearing black Club Monaco jeans and the other was wearing a stupid red pom-pom hat. They flashed their badges at Nate. ?We?re not going to cuff you,? Club Monaco explained. ?You?re a minor, right?? Nate nodded sullenly, avoiding the cop?s gaze. He didn?t turn eighteen until April. ?When we get to the precinct you can call your parents.? I?m sure they?ll be thrilled,Nate thought bitterly. Across the meadow the two guys playing football and the old lady and her fluffy white dog were all huddled together, watching Nate getting busted like it was the first episode of some hot new reality show. ?You?ll be out in a couple hours,? the red pom-pom cop said, writing something in a notebook. Nate noticed the cop was wearing gold hoop earrings and he realized she was a woman, despite her broad shoulders and thick-fingered hands. ?They?ll fine you and probably give you mandatory rehab.? Mitchell kept his hand on Nate?s shoulder as if to offer moral support. ?You?re lucky,? he added. Nate kept his head down, hoping no one he knew would see him. He didn?t feel very lucky.