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The Grass Stains, the Cigarette Is Lit, a Plastic Coke Bottle Needs to Be Filled
Grass stains. Spots on my white shorts, I did not notice until the morning after when I stripped off my clothes from the night before and folded – scrunched – them and tucked them under the rest of my clothes in the back of the drawer.
Cigarette Smoke. Sitting on the sidelines that night the smoke went in and out of my lungs. Refreshing. One, two, three, then the pack was empty. I didn’t finish it myself; the Other Girl helped me. My hair smelt like it. My clothes smelt like it. My breath smelt like it.
A plastic coke bottle. Next to me on the bleachers with the Other Girl. You’re my best friend she told me. I did not know her name. We sat there looking out at the darkness that covered the soccer field or the lacrosse field. Sips from the bottle, puffs from the cigarette, stares with The Boy who came down and sat next to me on the grass.
Grass stains. Blonde. Blue eyed. He looked familiar. The Boy is The Boy who told me any girl was lucky to have him. The Boy is The Boy who said he could have anyone; everyone loved him. I didn’t.
Cigarette Smoke. He lit my cigarette with the lighter and then he held up his cigarette to mine as we sucked in simultaneously; I lit his. We pretended to talk. The Other Girl and Another Girl sat on the bleachers behind us talking. You’re my best friend the Other Girl screamed at me. I don’t even remember what she looked like. The Boy was so proud he was able to make rings with the smoke from the cigarette; I tried but I just choked on the smoke.
A plastic coke bottle. I brought it down from the bleachers when The Boy and I went to go sit in the grass; now it lay between us. It was our common ground. Now only half way filled it hurt to take another sip.
“I have to repeat my junior year.”
“No, why does everyone thing I like her? I hate her.”
“I don’t remember anything that happened this week”
Force it down.
Grass stains. Rolling in the grass, wet. He was on top of me. The darkness covered him like a blanket. The Other Girl and Another Girl had left. It was just us on the lacrosse field, or was it a soccer field? He looked up at the lights from above – not stars, just the lights from the houses on top of the hill.
Cigarette Smoke. He smoked one while he kissed me. I rolled over it on the grass and burnt my back. He apologized – so unlike him.
A plastic coke bottle. Now empty lay – thrown – somewhere in the field.
Grass stains. My back rubbed against the wet grass.
“Are you a virgin?”
“So we are not going to have sex?”
Not outside. Not in a field. Not for my first time with you.
“What are we doing then?”
Grass stains. On my white shorts I took off the next morning. Who knew where those had been? A kiss. Blue eyes.
Cigarette Smoke. My breath smelt like an ashtray did I not brush my teeth?
A plastic coke bottle. It was on my bed. I don’t like coke. I threw it in the trash.
Grass stains. A new pair of shorts. The same spot. The spot I sit in when Another Girl shows me the spot I sat in.
Cigarette Smoke. What The Other Girl held in her hand when she told me what the Other Boy told all his friends.
A plastic coke bottle. Lay on the field. Another one? I wished it was full.