You'll feel different in the morning.

Twelve seems a little young to start smoking. Emily, always having done exactly as she wanted, has been hanging out with some older boys. Bryan’s dad smokes Camels, Aaron steals Myste’s from his grandmother and Adam, at 15 could nearly grow a beard. On the best days of their nicotine infatuation, he could get away with buying cloves from the 7-11.

     

Currently, Emily is sitting at the waters edge enjoying such a prize. She likes the way your lips slightly stick and taste exotic. She stares out at the water and wonders if  the big eyed, brown skinned boy from her dreams could be smoking as well, just across the ocean. She takes a deep drag in and watches the cloud float out of her and wander over the waves. She paints her nails a deep maroon and wears dozens of anklets. She imagines a castle for a home with marble echoing hallways and how he could hear the song of her approach.

Bryan tried to kiss her, but he was all light skin and freckles. She felt his wiry  beard hair on her chin and hated it. He wasn’t nearly mysterious enough. Too obvious, earnest, in his desires. She would kiss no more boys, she decided, until she met the one from her dreams. Or if the chance to kiss her math teacher, Mr. Hill, ever presented itself. His kiss would be warm and soft, his skin fresh and smooth. He would taste like coca cola and explain the mysteries of algorithms and what makes airplanes work.

It’s after nine and the beach is deserted. Emily likes it best this way. No tall healthy girls in small bathing suits making her feel self conscious. The big waterfront houses loomed behind her. The sliding glass doors like giant reflective mouths that would swallow up the ocean when hurricane season hit. Her mother was constantly worrying about hurricane season, and the volume of her hair. Emily’s was thick like her fathers and deep down it made her mother jealous. 

Emily didn’t worry about hurricanes, or her mother. She concentrated on inhaling and exhaling the smoke with the rhythm of the oceans waves. She hoped that eighth grade was more interesting than seventh and that maybe soon she would start her period. (and that when it happened it would trigger the development of her breasts.)