We were all fourteen and eager for adult fun. My neighbors Kelly and Sean visited one exciting and rebellious summer afternoon. We were close friends since kindergarten, and would start high school in a few weeks. Thankfully, my dad was at work. Mom’s focus was on her cheesy soap opera, so we could sneak into the woods and have some fun in peace. I had a naughty thought and grabbed a half-full bottle of brandy from the pantry.

Kelly wagged her finger back and forth, whispering, “Bad girl, Jill.” She was smiling, like Sean.

As we walked across the back yard, he asked, “Did you get ‘em, Kelly?”

“Yeah. My dad smokes regulars, but it’s easier to start with menthols.” She passed each of us a Salem 100, the brand her mom liked.

We reached the dark thicket where the ground was soft from thick layers of pine needles, then the small pond past it. I opened the brandy bottle, and we each took a burning sip. It reminded me of furniture polish and gasoline, but made my cheeks feel warm. Kelly flicked the lighter, and I lit my first-ever cigarette. I coughed, but only once, like Sean did. Kelly inhaled and blew out a cloud smoothly. She’d clearly tried cigarettes before.

Sean looked at Kelly with a bashful but hungry expression. He reached into an oversized cargo pocket and pulled out a glossy magazine. “My big brother left this under his bed. Take a look.” He opened it to a page with a blonde woman’s breasts spilling out of her pink dress, and her hand on a Black man’s implausibly large penis! We all crowded around, our shoulders touching, and I felt a strange electric pull toward Sean’s side.

“Wait, look at the guy in this one,” Kelly said, pointing to a muscular man. Her voice sounded breathy, and she leaned closer to me. I could smell the menthol and the brandy on her breath, which made my stomach flip. I looked at Sean, then back at Kelly, and wondered if they were thinking about the same thing.