One day, however, things were pushed just a smidge too far. After Math class on a Friday afternoon, Georgia was re-fluffing her hair for the 31st time that day by her locker. Suddenly, the pungent aroma of smoke wafted past her nose. She glanced around madly, looking for fire, but instead she spotted Mickey and a jock boy she had been crushing on, puffing on a cigarette each. A few moments after Georgia saw it, Taylor popped up beside her with one in her mouth, too.
“Aren’t they so cute together?” she asked, pulling the cigarette box out of her pocket. “Here, have a light.”
Georgia arched her eyebrows as she tried to hold in her cough, but the scent and thickness of the smoke made her eyes water, and she let it out. “N-no, t-thank y-you,” she said, turning away. “I d-don’t s-smoke.”
Taylor laughed and blew out a puff right into Georgia’s face. “It’s never too late to start,” she said, putting a stick in Georgia’s mouth and pulling out her lighter.
Georgia spat it out, and then stepped on it with her new stiletto’s heel. “No, thank you,” she said, slamming her locker shut and leaving for Geography. As her shoes clicked through the halls, a trace of mascara slid down her cheek as she made the decision that this group was not for her.