“Put that damn thing away, you know it’s bad for you.”
Adam looked helplessly at the cigarette in his fingers. “You don’t need to tell me, Surgeon General’s already taken care of that. Truth is I hate these things.” He took another short puff and made a face. “Tastes awful.”
“Then why did you even start?”
“Dunno. Stress?” Smoke blew from his mouth as he spoke. “It’s funny, you know? I think I’m the first person in my family to smoke.”
“They don’t know you do, do they?”
“’Course not!” Adam replied sharply. He paused to consider it. “Not that dad would care, but mom works for the VA for crying out loud. She’s spent half her life convincing ‘Nammies to quit before their lungs turn to beef jerky.”
“What do you think she’d do if she found out?”
“Ground me until I’m eligible for Medicare,” he said flatly. His eyes flickered from the cigarette to me. “You’re not gonna blab on me, are you?”
“Depends,” I said, blowing a small bubble with my gum, which didn’t work since it was chewing gum. Instead I watched Adam take another drag on the cigarette, little wisps of smoke unfurling around his nostrils, until I couldn’t stand it anymore. I waited--his head turned away for just an instant; I plucked my gum from my mouth and stuck it on the ashy end of the cigarette.
He looked at the cigarette, shrugged, and dropped it to the ground.
“That was real dirty, you know?”
“No, what’s dirty is your habit.“
I held out a hand. He feigned confusion.
“C’mon, doofus, the pack,” I demanded. With another shrug, he reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out a half-empty carton of Marlboro. “You’ll thank me later,” I added, taking the pack of cigarettes and sticking it into my own pocket.
“I thank you, but my body doesn’t,” Adam said dryly. “What about you? Your parents would kill you if they found those, you know.”
“They won‘t. These little cancer sticks are heading straight for the Dumpster as soon as we reach the apartment.”