Skipping school on Friday afternoons had become one of our senior-year rituals. With only study halls and gym left on our schedule, why the hell wouldn’t we? I didn’t have a car, but Donger did, so we’d pile in and drive around, hunting for new places to get high in a town where nothing felt new anymore. Tommy suggested we go on an adventure—hike out to the giant cross near the Russian monastery. Donger bitched about potholes and gas, like he always did, but finally caved to our relentless peer pressure.