Fitting in can be difficult, boys, girls, all trying to find themselves at a judgmental teen age. Not knowing if peers will accept them, not wanting to be a disappointment to family.
Walking down Deadman’s Hill, an appropriate street nickname, I was with two very popular girls in my high school. Two girls my parents weren’t sure were good role models in school.
At the bottom of the hill, down a dirt path, my friends brought out a pack of cigarettes. One friend lit up and then the other. I was the odd man out. Friends.
Silence, standing with them, I was nervous. Wanting to be popular, not knowing what to say. One girl turned to me, teasingly holding the pack. “Don’t you smoke? Everyone does it.”
I took a cigarette, held it and looked around, wondering if I should light it or leave. I didn’t want to smoke but I didn’t want to go back home alone. The cigarette felt smooth to the touch. One friend blew smoke in my face. Laughing, my supposed friends said I could go. “No,” I stated, “I’m fine.”
The cigarette tasted bitter as the flame licked the end. I breathed in and coughed, tears pricked the back of my eyes. Deadman’s Hill, an appropriate place I probably shouldn’t be.
Walking slowly going up my front steps, I turned to see those girls skipping away. Walking into the house, my parents happy to see me, my dad asked, “What’s that smell?”
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Marie Corcoran wrote this piece for a creative writing class she is taking at Asnuntuck Community College with Edwina Trentham. Having written for many years, she has a completed mystery manuscript and several children's manuscripts that she is looking to place with an agent. Marie love making up stories.
