… the things it does to your lungs, your heart, makes you short of breath, plus your breath smells, teeth stain. Plus it’s expensive. Plus it’s disgusting, sucking smoke into your actual body, exhaling it to pollute the air for others.

Okay, Mom. I get it.

Last week at school. Decided to test my willpower, leaving the Juul at home, hidden in my bureau.

Like, I am no addict. (I just like how e-juices taste.)

First hit of the day, early morning in the bathroom. Fantastic!

It’s the chill cloud, the chemical fruit smell. Like some kind of sci-fi.

Actual fruit—strawberry, pineapple, melon—has a sickish smell, like rot. Like, you can smell the rot to come.

But vapor, fruit-vapor, that’s pure. No rot, ever.

But then by noon fucked-up and feeling like shit. Staring at the classroom clock. Mouth so dry, compulsively swallowing. Fuck fuck fuck fuck. Instead of going to lunch had to bicycle home from school, sneak into the house so Mom didn’t know, take a hit, one two three, savor the high, return on my bicycle to school at top speed, Spider-Man fast, but fuck it, ran out of breath on the Cedar Street hill, vision blotched and reeling, but made it, walked into geometry class while the fucking bell was ringing because of course I was going to get back in time, flying high.

All that week I left the Juul at home. Goddamn determined not to bring it with me to school. Goddamn determined to exercise willpower. And all that week, middle of the day feeling so fucked had to bicycle back home two point six fucking miles and having a hard time pulling uphill.

By Friday I was too fucked, tired. Just borrowed Carlie’s Juul.

Hey okay. I owe you—okay?

That’s cool, Jacey. No problem.

The guys are, like, bemused with me. Everybody knows e-cigs are not addictive, so what’s the big deal?

Not like we’re junkies. Pathetic loser addicts.

First, kids at school that vaped were creeps. Losers. Then later, kids I knew, and some of the guys I hang with. Then, guys on the team.

How I was turned on, last summer. At the pool with the other lifeguards. Observed them taking hits, e-cigarettes, weird concoctions—nicotine and fruit flavors—Christ! Sucking strawberry mist, not smoke, then exhaling—evaporating.

That’s so cool, like magic, the way the smoke evaporates before your eyes.

And Ben Marder says hey Jacey, want to try?—and I kind of sneered Nah. Why’d I want to do that shit.

You’d tried cigarettes, your dad’s butts he’d left in ashtrays. Never got any nicotine rush but choked and coughed and felt like puking. Nasty-tasting tobacco shit.