The Dragon Who Lost Her Fire...

In the Town that I live, just behind the Rotunda in the Park are the Botanical Gardens. When the flowers are in bloom it looks just like a giant stained-glassed window; according to my Sister. No one but the green-keeper's ever get to go in there; though I think the Queen has a wooden bench in there to sit on- beneath a trellis of roses- if she ever wanted to sit and enjoy the Ocean to Lighthouse views. As far as I know She hasn't yet- but that's the only reason that it's kept so nicely- even Today...

My Sisters and my Cousin and her friends were all big enough to jump over the tall stone wall; they could boost me over it but in an emergency they don't think that they'd be able to help me back out- say if the police came and we all had to make a run for it- I'd be left to fend for Myself. It doesn't matter; I can still watch them playing Tips and Stuck in the Mud if I just sit up on the hill a bit higher. And I'll never get busted either, because I'm not doing anything wrong except for not telling on everyone else for doing it.

I'm keeping an eye out for the green-keeper and for cars- it's my job. Apparently he's crazy; there's a story going round that he chased some other kids out of his garden one time- swinging his hoe at them for damaging his flower-beds and precision lawns. And if I see any headlights coming up the hillside the game will stop; the shadows of children will freeze and blend in with the statues and shrubs until it's safe to start the game again- if I was in there I would probably hide behind the Sundial.

I'm minding the stash of candles and matches; we might go back to Grandma's house via the Fort- if we don't chicken out. It's a whole other world when it's dark down there. On the ground beside me is a half-smoked cigarette. I pick it up and consider it's condition before stashing it in my pocket. It's a Benson and Hedges; the same kind as what my Uncle Boof smokes. I wish it were a Peter Stuyvesant...

I walk up the stairs towards the picnic tables. I can't let the others see that I like to smoke. No one knows. And it's the last thing anyone would expect from Me because I'm only ten and because I am so out-spoken on the fact that smoking is such a disgusting habit. I cough dramatically every time someone lights up in my presence; wrinkling my nose in distaste and complaining loudly when my Parents smoke- especially while they are driving with us Kids in the car and all of the windows rolled up.

I love the way my Mother smokes; she makes it look so glamourous when she exhales through her nose like a dragon who has lost her fire. That's how I'm going to do it once I can inhale properly; I can't yet. I light the stub with a stolen match, the staleness apparent. But I still smoke it- quickly- down to the filter before squashing it beneath my sneaker and running back to the others. I'll avoid breathing on them and they'll never know. I'll just tell them that I'm going back to Grandma's house on the Hill; and then rinse my breath before anyone gets near me. That's what I do when I'm at home...

It's easy to steal my Mother's smokes. She never even notices if one or two go missing. Sometimes the Only reason I whopped school was so that I could smoke a cigarette that I had managed to pilfer and stash; I'd hide them under the house near my collection of empty Cicada shells. Not that I really considered myself to be a smoker until I was fifteen; that's when I started buying them for Myself and smoking in front of my friends.

I was a nerd before that night at Shag's sixteenth birthday party. It was a really lame party, though, I've got to say. Me, Bbbb and Dano were itching to get away from the rest of the girls at the party- they were soooo boring- and so were we I suppose, so that's really saying something...

Then Dano comments that what she'd really like is a cigarette. When I agree with her Bbbb is stunned. She's been my best friend for ten years, since we were five, and I've never even told her that I've tried it before. We decide to go and buy some- because suddenly the need was irresistible, even though we were all non-smokers only minutes before. We buy the cheapest and smallest packet that the bottle-shop sells because we'll probably throw most of them away- and none of us had much money because we spent most of what we had on Shag's crap prezzie.

I light mine up quickly, as does Dano. We barely cough at all and both inhale deeply. Dano instructs Bbbb to breathe in hard as I spark her up and she manages to gulp down a lungful of the stuff before it splutters its way back out again. She tries again and is better; and by the end of the smoke is happily giggling that she has massive head-spins.

It's generally decided that it's least likely that my parents will search my bag, and I take home the ones that remain in the packet at the end of the night. As we were walking back to Shag's house from the shops we find a deserted trolley- and Bbbb begs us for a lift because she is feeling so dizzy, so we oblige her request for a while. Shag and the others weren't impressed that we had left so we didn't stay at the party for much longer after that- though we did meet up over the weekend to share a few more cigarettes.

We thought we had bad addictions after we smoked the whole packet in one week- between the three of us; at the rate of one each per day. It wasn't an addiction then; not yet anyway.

It was just the start...