They had always taught me to set examples for my younger brother, Warren. He's seven, by the way. Wavy blond hair, brown eyes, if we weren't related, and he was a little older, I might have been attracted to him. I got that thought out of my mind, like that was going to happen! After the third day, I couldn't take it. I had to tell someone. I called my boyfriend, Andy, and told him everything. "Wow, so you have a bunch of smoke in your lungs, and you didn't even bother to tell me?"
"Are you mad?"
"Well, not really, but we should do something about this."
"But what?" I said. That's how far that conversation lasted until I used up all my minutes. So much for that. I thought about what Andy said, and he was right, I had to tell my parents.
That night at dinner, I came right out with it. "Warren," my mom said, "could you go into the other room for a while, please?" He went, with a look of disbelief on his face. Of course he knew what smoking was and what it did to your health. "I thought we taught you better," said dad. "I know, but Miller pressured me, she told me to take chances, and I did."
"Yah, but smoking is one of the most dangerous and stupidest activities you can perform." Oh great, another lecture from dad, I thought.
"I need help. I never wanted to smoke. I don't know how to stop. Will you help get all this smoke out of me?"