Cigarettes

Walking across the forecourt of the garage was a bit like walking out on stage. The attendant would spot you from a distance and watch you, while you played at trying to relax and look older.
Normally, I didn’t buy anything. I just pretended to look at the newspapers stacked in the compartments outside while my friend, John, did the business. He had the height and the build to pass for 16, even 18, no problem.
It was the woman this time. I hadn’t spoken to her before, which gave me some advantage, but she eyed me just as suspiciously as the others.
I shoved my hands in my pockets and tensed my brow just a fraction. I noticed John doing this whenever we came here or there were girls around. If you got it right, it made you look as though you had something slightly more adult on your mind than whatever else was going on. And if that involved trying to get served then it could be just the edge that you needed.
The woman stared me down from over receptionist spectacles as I reached the window of the counter. She had the remains of a perm, which hung over her face like dog ears.
“Ten B and H, please,” I said, looking up at the rack of cigarettes to avoid her gaze.
“Got any ID?”
I dropped my head.
It was a crap ID. John’s brother had stolen some student cards from college and stuck a print out of a Prove It card, over the top. My photo looked like a screenshot from an Atari game.
I took the card out of my wallet and slid it through the hatch. The woman studied it for a moment, then took a packet from the rack and dropped it in the drawer.
“£3.25.”
For a moment, I was dumbfounded, but managed to fish a creased up fiver out of my pocket and slide it through the hatch. She slapped it into the till and poured my change in to the drawer. I gathered it as quickly as I could, managing to drop a few coins in the process.
‘Leave it,’ I told myself and went to walk away.
“Excuse me,” she called through the perforation.
My heart froze mid-beat.
“Don’t you want ‘em anymore?”
I went back and picked the cigarettes out of the drawer, heat rising in my cheeks. I tried a laugh, but it just came out as a splutter.
She was probably laughing her head off, but I didn’t look back to check.

Gloucester road was always bustling, even on a Tuesday night.
The bars had terraces out the front and were spilling over with office workers, still wearing their suits.
Behind restaurant windows, couples were having romantic dinners, the guys topping up the woman’s glass with wine before refilling their own.
Normally, I would be turning off about now to head up to John’s house. He had a garage where we could go and smoke and a little pool table that he had got from Danny’s Retro store.

Tonight felt different, though. Suddenly, the street seemed alive, more accessible to me than before. I had passed a test that had initiated me into adult territory. I could do anything.
I headed for the promenade, where the coolest bars were. The thought of trying to buy a drink even crossed my mind, but I had spent all my money on the fags.
I liked cider, but beer was rough. The nicest thing I ever drunk was a Babycham. I just wish I never mentioned it to anyone because I got the piss taken out of me for weeks.
I decided to stop outside the Flying Goose. People were flocked around the doorway, pints and fags in hand.
In between the pub and the building next door was the entrance to the car park. There was a little wall separating it from the table area out front, so I perched myself on it and took out the packet.
The plastic wrapper gleamed brightly under the street lights. This was the best bit, especially when you popped the foil cover.
I lit one up and instantly started coughing. I looked about hurriedly to check if anyone had noticed, but luckily the noise of the pub had drowned me out. I took another drag to try and quell the tickle and it seemed to work, but my chest was burning.

I wondered what people thought of me as they passed by. Maybe they thought I was at the pub too, just popping out for a quick fag like everyone else. Maybe I even looked like an adult.
Suddenly, I caught the eye of a girl standing with a group of lads. She had long wavy hair and was wearing a blue hood halfway over her head. We held gaze for just a moment, until one of the blokes shouted, “ain’t it past your bedtime, mate?’
I dropped my eyes and pretended not to notice them laughing. Then I chucked the butt on the ground and put it out with a twist of my foot, before walking off. That probably looked cool, at least.