Stephanie was doing something bad. She knew she shouldn't but her sister used to, and his parents didn't mind when Valkyrie, and besides, it was fun. And 50 year old me is going to me miserable anyway, so who cares about a little lung cancer. Stephanie crept down her hallway, wincing at every creak and groan of the floorboards. He turned his flashlight on and began to grab what she needed to cover the smell. A stick of deodorant, (it smelled heavely of flowers and lavender) a bottle of perfume, (a present from her mom) and his bubble gum flavored mouthwash (Stephanie had already had 3 cavities). She glanced at his the bathroom mirror, briefly flexing her muscles, winking at her reflection. With a suppressed laugh, she turned off the lights and retreated to her room. Stephanie closed the door softly, hands shaking with excitement.
He reached under his bed to where the package lay. Pulling too hard, Stephanie tore the pack, wincing as cigarettes spilled across his floor. He became motionless, heart beating in his ears as she waited to hear the flick of a light switch, her parent's footsteps. After almost a minute of paralysis, Stephanie unfroze and walked to his window. It opened soundlessly. The queen looked out at her kingdom , squinting as she tried to make out the movement of strangers through their windows. Giving up after only a few seconds, Stephanie ducked her head back into his room, grabbing her lighter out from the pack. She had chosen to only smoke American Spirits, as Valkyrie had told him they were the least addictive. You'll be fine, just avoid Newports, ok kid? Her sister had also been kind enough to give him a shitty lighter, but at least she had been up front about its shittyness. It works alright, but if you've got any wind, you're fucked. Meanwhile, Valkyrie had an zippo, engraved with her initials. I'll buy you one when you're older. Unfortunately, this was a windy night, and so Stephanie was forced to light her cigarette in her room, right next to the stuffed animals that rested on his radiator. It took a few tries, but eventually the tip of the cigarette began to glow red. The smoke wound its way down into her body, tickling her chest with its long, sharp fingers. Clamping her wet mouth around the cigarette, Stephanie inhaled again. Now don't just sit in one place when you smoke, othe wise what's the point? You wanna enjoy the dizziness, the headache. Stephanie still didn't understand how a headache could be pleasurable, but she trusted her sister. Leaving the cigarette carefully placed on the grills of her air conditioner, Stephanie stood up. She giggled softly, enjoying the lightness in her head. The girl walked around for a few moments, being careful not to make a sound. Stephanie returned to the window, snatching the cigarette back from on top of the air conditioner. Taking another drag, Stephanie resumed her pacing. She suddenly laughed, realizing how ridiculous she must look, tiptoeing around his room in circles, a cigarette in hand. Walking back to the window, she tapped the cigarette, softly at first, but then harder as the ash refused to cooperate. Finally she scraped the cigarette against the grey bricks that surrounded her window, watching as the ash went tumbling down into the street. Stephanie knew she shouldn't be smoking: she had just gotten over a cold, and the last thing she wanted was to get sick again—she had a track meet in a few days. As if on cue, she felt a ball of snot tickling that place in between her throat and nose. She sucked it up, then spat it out the window. She grimaced as the smoke flavored mucus left his mouth. Gross.
Stephanie missed Valkyrie He missed sitting in her bathroom, listening to music as they passed a cigarette back and forth. He missed the friendly arguments over who was better, Dylan or Billie Joel (obviously Billie Joel). His sister still sent him letters, but it wasn't the same. And of course she came home for holidays, but then she spent all her time with Mom and Dad—there was no alone time between the kids. "Sibling bonding time," that's what Valkyrie called their semi-regular bathroom powwow. The only real dialogue she ever had with his sister was when they were sharing a cigarette—the act of smoking seemed to loosen people up, make conversation flow. The evening cigarette she shared with his sister was always the highlight of his day. The worst days were when his sister didn't want to smoke. Valkyrie would go through fazes of trying (unsuccessfully) to quit. These spans of time left Stephanie miserable, as she would be forced to go day by day without smoking. It wasn't that she craved cigarettes; she craved time with her sister. But Stephanie was grateful for the little time that she did get with her sister. After years of sitting outside her door, praying that she would play monopoly or chess with him, any time with his sister, no matter how sporadic or infrequent, was to be treasured. The thought of his sister and her grubby lighter was the one thing that carried him through math class.
Snapping back to the present, Stephanie realized she had smoked almost the entire cigarette. Now American Spirits don't have additives, so you can smoke them all the way down to the filter. Taking the final drag, she crushed the cigarette, watching as the filter tumbled down, following the same path the ash had taken. Blinking, she reached for another cigarette, lighting it with ease: the wind had died down. Inhaling deeply, Stephanie tried to blow smoke rings, just as his sister had taught him. Make your mouth into a circle. Keep your tongue pointed. No, way to hard. Blow softly. It should come from the back of your throat. Yes, just like that. Not bad for a first timer, kiddo