I knew it was wrong. I knew I was being bad. I knew I would get in trouble when I got home. Like they would sniff me out. I had crossed the line and there was no going back.
I drank a diet Pepsi at my friend’s house, just because.
My parents never let me have soda unless it was my birthday party or unless I was sick – it was supposed to excite me to drink more and stay hydrated. And never, never, never caffeinated and absolutely never diet.
I had them both and it was surrounded by the cool, crisp of ice cubes straight from the freezer, cracked perfectly, fresh out of the tray.
I could taste the sugary syrup mixed with lord only knows what else and every neuron from the top of my tongue right through to the tip of my fingers and right on down to my toes buzzed with excitement and doubt and guilt and absolute happiness.
I think I even smiled (giggled more likely) and let out a loud belch. It was everything that was wrong and yet so right with my world at 12 years of age.