You took out the packet of fags and offered them round your mates, but they didn't want any. You shrugged, more for you.

As you lit one, Laura said, "Since when do you smoke?"

You rolled your eyes before answering, "Since I was fourteen."

"How come we never knew before now?" One of your mates, Sam, asked.

"I don't know. I guess I never smoked in front of you three before." You took a drag of your fag. It's nice.

They looked unsatisfied. Weird, you thought. You'd answered their questions with acceptable answers. You're sure that they don't want to hear about your gang and how you started smoking because of them. You're sure of it.

You breathe out the smoke and they look disgusted. You said, "If you don't like it, go away."

They looked at you and then walked off, down the road into the darkness.

You are left in the cold, illuminated by the street light and you ring your gang, saying, "My friends are gone, you can come now."

A/N: Please review? They make me happy.