Above The Influence

We all sat indian-style on the cold ground in my backyard. We formed a circle, knees almost touching. The sun shined bright that day. It felt like a spotlight was on me. The pressure to fit in shoved me into that deadly circle. They were sharks, and I was lonely krill. We were waiting. They were waiting. I squished the seemingly wet grass through my fingers. I nervously looked around. He was back.

The boy stood over the circle, like a game of duck, duck, goose. He took his place next to the girl. They touched lips. From the backyard, I could see the driveway. I was the lookout. The boy pulled a small square box labeled 'cancer sticks' out of his back pocket. The end ignited, a small stream of smoke hovered over the circle like casper. Inhale. Next person. Inhale. Next person. My turn.

My palms were sweaty. All eyes were on me. My mind said no. My body said no. This was completely unsanitary! An ash fell to the dirt. I followed it with my eyes. An ant scurried over it without hesitaion. I heard yelling, rushing me. I licked my lips. Exhale. Next person. I didn't do it. I heard my mom pull up in the drive. Everyone scattered like roaches. The boy and girl skipped through the bushes. I greeted my mother. She asked what was I doing. I replied, "Just living above the influence."