Jawbreaker ❆ Tom Kaulitz

[ 08 ] Burnt Cigarettes

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08. Burnt Cigarettes
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                I don't know how to have fun. That's what Tom used to tell me back when we were in high school. In all honesty, he might be right — I've always been straight edge, what most people my age would consider to be downright boring. I can safely swear on my life that I have never had a drop of alcohol. It's a small price to pay to secure my future, and avoid turning out like daddy dearest.

                The only one who knows about my dad (and Eli, by extension) is Alba. It's my dirty little secret.

When we were sixteen years old, he found out that I'd never smoked weed before (is that weird at sixteen?) and wore me down until I finally tried it. Then when I ended up greening out and throwing my guts up in Gustav's front garden, he mocked me for weeks.

                Dad had already been 'sick' for a while, and I knew better. At least, I do now.

You'll never guess who gave me my first cigarette.

                For some reason, I've never really had an issue being around drunk people. I have no troubles differentiating between my father and a bunch of kids enjoying themselves. It's just not really my style. Despite what Tom Kaulitz thinks, I'm not really the judgemental type.

That side of me is reserved purely for him.

My brother, on the other hand, has always had more of a tendency to succumb to peer pressure. He takes after dad, while I'm more like mum — but I'm not so sure if that's a good thing, either.

Despite my absolute best efforts, Alba convinced me that I needed to wear the white mini dress that had been hanging up in my closet for months, completely untouched. She's the only reason I bought this skimpy little thing in the first place. To be clear, I have no problem showing a little bit of skin, but the idea that Tom likes this dress is making my skin crawl.

                Okay, so maybe I'm not as good with peer pressure as I thought I was.

                I silently fight the overwhelming urge to rip out my perfectly curled hair and go back home to sleep for another two days.

I dig my heels into the ground as we line up outside the club, fiddling with the strap of my bag, freezing my tits off, even though I'm tightly wrapped up in a leather jacket that swallows my frame. A flimsy pair of black stockings hide my legs, chilly against the cold air. When we reach the front of the line, I pull out my drivers licence and pass it to the bouncer, who eyes it off carefully before deciding that I'm not lying about my age.

Alba leads the rest of us in; Paula close behind her, Ellie next, and then me at the end. Alba and Paula both head directly towards the bar, while Ellie checks her phone to see where Georg is waiting.

She quickly tells me that they're around the back in the smoker's area, dragging me along with her by the sleeve of my jacket before I can tell her that I want to stay inside and wait until the others are ready (even though I do want a cigarette right now).