I don’t even think this one technically counts as erotica. Most people that read this blog, will probably find it kind of silly and juvenile, because it kind of is. I think I love this story, because it is short and I could really see a lot of myself (back when I first read it at age 17) in the main character Alli. I like the way the story is written though, it sort of sets it apart from many of the other smoking stories. Re-reading it, based on the clever one-liners delivered by our heroine, she kind of reminds me of a Juno like character. I also like the way it ends… with us not knowing if Alli ever becomes a more regular smoker.

Here is short excerpt from The Alphabet Sisters, since the story is short to begin with. Enjoy!

I’m a good girl. I’ve always been a good girl. Kind and considerate. A joy to my parents, a friend to my friends, the teacher’s pet, and all that. I still blush when someone says ‘shit,’ and run to confession when I let one slip. Oh, sorry, I’m Alison. I’m 15, in my second year at Beechwood High, an honor student with Ivy League dreams. Last year I hung around with two
friends I met in middle school, girls pretty much like me. Studious, quiet, and of course really straight. In a word, boring. Our lives are about as exciting as sand, but we like it. Happy lives may make for dull stories, but I also think sand is underrated.

My best friend Christy has the distinction of never having gotten a B in her life. Even I can’t lay claim to that. My other best friend Barbara is a reader. Whether it’s the classics or romance novels, I’ve never seen her without a book. I think she showers with the laminated edition. She’s really pretty too behind those silly glasses, and I think the boys would notice if she’d drop her book long enough for them to get a look at that porcelain skin and golden hair. Maybe later, and that’s probably just as well. Every day it seems we talk about our dream romances, but it’s just talk. We have more important goals for the near term, and we’re determined not to end up like Becki Scarvanough, who dropped out of school freshman year to have a kid. There’s time for serious romance later, maybe when we were thirty or thirty-five. Or senior year.

We call ourselves the “alphabet sisters.” Ali, Barb, and Christy. We were inseparable our freshman year, our own little clique and in our own little world. I know these things can’t go on forever, but apart from finding someone just like us with a D name, like Darla or Debbie, it’s hard to imagine our little troika being altered by anything, like boyfriends, activities, boyfriends, or change. I mean reality only bites if you let it off the leash.

I didn’t see too much of Christy the first part of the summer. I just assumed she’d been on vacation or away at camp. That’s where I was for a couple weeks. I love summer camp. I also love poison oak. You get the picture. I got back on the July seventeenth, and immediately called C. She was all excited about a club of some kind, and of course she invited me. Barbara was away on a family vacation, so I was especially anxious to see Christy for the first time in weeks.

“Sure, I can meet you tonight,” she said on the phone. “But I’m involved in this thing. It’s a little hard to explain. Just come. If you hate it, we can leave.”

“Okay,” I answered, knowing Christy well enough to gather there was an element of surprise involved here. But I like surprises and I trusted my good friend. Besides, it was either that or watching some neuron screw up becoming a millionaire.

Christy led me to the athletic fields behind the high school, and I assumed we were meeting a couple of her other friends. The trouble with “other friends,” of course, is that when my friends meet my other friends, both groups invariably fail to enjoy being with the other as much as I do, and instead insist on either monopolizing my time or standing around looking dopey. In fact, I’ve recently made it my policy that my friends are never to meet my other friends, except, I guess, at my wedding, when I won’t care about any of them anyway. But I digress, and anyway, Christy’s secret is probably that she’s set us up with a couple of really nice guys.

“Are they cute?” I asked. “Is my make-up alright? I look like shit. Oops, sorry. I wouldn’t have worn this T-shirt–”

“Relax. It’s not — You’re boy crazy.”

“I am not.”

“You are too. But sorry to disappoint you, A. This is an all-girl thing.” I was afraid of that.

“Who are they?” I asked.

“I met them a couple months ago through Stephanie Peterson.”

“Stephanie Peterson?” NOW I was freaking. I had a laser sharp image of Stephanie Peterson’s reputation. In middle school she’d been a lot like us, but last year she’d fallen in with a bad crowd. I mean BAD … Well, not BAD BAD. Sean Barraclough and Janie Monroe were BAD BAD. Stephanie was … a little bad. Just bad enough to be cool. On the other hand, I could just be overreacting as usual. Maybe she was still alright. Actually her rep isn’t that bad … Although she did go out with Paul Foster. That’s it. She’s slime … But she did have the sense to dump him …

“Hi Stef,” Christy said. “You know Alison. Ali, this is Valerie, our fearless leader, and Eve, Amie, Amber, and Paula.” Hmmm. A group already heavily laden with the letter A, except perhaps on their report cards. Paula did drugs, I knew that. Valerie was starting her senior year, which was equally scary. Pretty, smart, and popular, all in the extreme. Puts your place in the lower third of the food chain into perspective. Amber smoked. I’d often seen her smoking in the girls’ room or outside after school. I had no clue who Eve was, except she was now lighting a Salem. Amie was apparently Amber’s guest. And I was Christy’s.

“Where do you wanna go?” Eve asked.

“Let’s just hang around for a while,” Valerie replied. This immediately prompted all the girls to reach into their handbags. It didn’t surprise me that Valerie proceeded to light up, or that the others soon followed. What dropped my jawbone onto my Nikes was when a cloud of smoke drifted past me from my immediate left.

“Christy. I didn’t know you …” The girls all laughed.

“It’s a summer thing. I’m trying it out. Something different.”

“Face it. You’re hooked,” Eve said.

“No way,” Christy replied. “Wanna try one?” she asked me.

“You know I don’t do that, C. I think it’s kinda gross.”

“That’s what they all say,” Valerie replied. “It’s okay. You’ll make you own decision.” There didn’t seem to be much of a decision to make.

For the rest of the Alphabet Sisters, click here.

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