The kind you’re born with, the kind you choose, the kind that teach Catholic school
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Samantha Schoech spent portions of her childhood on a commune in northern California, at a meditation center in Vermont, and in a fishing village in Mexico. She now lives in San Francisco with her husband and their dog. Her fiction has appeared in Zyzzyva and the Gettysburg Review, and she is currently working on a novel about some of the characters in her story “Dances.”
We are supposed to be asleep in the van. Instead we are sitting up in the bed our mother has fashioned on the floor and peering out between the paisley curtains at three people splitting a joint. It’s Friday night, and the community-center parking lot is full. Inside, a band from Sebastopol is playing Country Joe and the Fish covers. My mother comes out every half hour to check on us, and we pretend to be asleep. She is due in another ten minutes.