I remember telling myself that I'd never smoke because it was gross, but then I so wanted to fit in so I bought my first pack of cigarettes. I stored them in my purse blindly thinking that nobody would ever go in there. I think I smoked maybe two of them because I just didn't like it, so I barely remembered they were still there. Then one day my mom asked where my keys were and I told her to go into my purse, never remembering that she would discover some contents that wouldn't make her very happy upon discovery. It wasn't until I heard the shriek from my mom that I remembered they were there-and then my heart sank as I knew I was in for a serious lecture. I thought of saying they weren't mine, but that seemed so cliche so I headed into the kitchen to see what destiny awaited me as my mom began the yelling.