Her First Cigarette

Candy Cigarette, Sally Mann

Word Count: 692

“She was being a bitch!”

“Sally! That’s not the kind of language we use! I told you to go down to the principal’s office,” my teacher yells back. “Do I need to escort you?”

“Mrs. Carr, you’re not even listening to what happened.” She gave me ‘the look’. I turned away, disgusted. Grabbing my bag without another word, I left to Dr. Arnette’s office - the second time this week.

“Sally, what are you in for today?” Arnette scoffs at me.

Not even a hello.

“Jaime called me a whore. I told her to fuck off. She told me to go take a seat in the corner where a poor bitch like me should be and I pushed her. Mrs. Carr of course only saw me push her so I’m the only one who got sent here. Jaime’s the victim - as usual.”

“Well I am very disappointed to hear such vulgar words from the mouth’s of twelve year-olds.” she replied. “I have to ask, have you acted in anyway that would provoke Jaime to use such language?”

“I’d bet you it’s my dress. It’s old and I grew so now it’s short but that’s not my fault! I don’t understand why she’s so mean about it!”

“I know things are tough at home right now for you, Sally,” Arnette acts like she understands it. “You don’t deserve to be made fun of for something out of your control, but you do need to learn to control your temper. You’re going to have to start staying after school with the guidance counselor to work on this Tuesdays and Thursdays.”

“Dr. Arnette, I have to get my brother off the bus. I can’t stay after.” She really can’t be doing this to me.

“Then you’ll go at lunch.” The final bell rings. “You’ll start next week, have a good weekend.”

The bus rides usually feel like hours, but today I could feel my skin wrinkle. Finally at my stop, I push through idiots carving into the seats and throwing the nerdy kids’ backpacks around. At least I’m getting off this axe-masked BO ridden bus. I go to sit on the curb and take out my History folder, but I can’t think about History or Math or Science, or English. All I can think about is the blood boiling in my veins and Jaime’s stupid face and her perfect hair and superiority complex and rich daddy and how much of a fucking bitch she is. I can’t stop thinking about how much of a fucking bitch Dr. Arnette is.

The elementary school bus arrives, an hour after mine. When my little brother gets off, I take a deep breath and I ask him how his day was, praying it was better than mine. His was good. They started learning multiplication, which he thought was cool. I get him a pudding pack and a bag of chips from the cabinet when we get home and retreat to my room - still unable to concentrate. I try washing the dishes, but it doesn’t calm me down. It was just a push. I try vacuuming, but it doesn’t calm me down. She won’t even have a bruise.

I try wiping down the counters, but before I do, I see Dad’s stockpile of cigarette packs neatly piled in the drawer. He always comes back inside calm after one of these. He can always have a real conversation after one of these. I hesitate, knowing they’re the devil’s candy, but ultimately reach for a pack. He won’t notice if one pack is gone. I grab the lighter next to the pile, check the time, and go outside - about an hour before he comes home and half an hour before Mom comes home.

Which side am I supposed to light? Imagining my infinite memories of him storming out and chain smoking half a pack, I think I’m supposed to light the white side and inhale from the tan side. That’s what I do. I slide one of the cigarettes out of the box, stick it between my teeth, hold the lighter up to the white end, and let the small flame burn it.