Cruel Summer - Conrad Fisher

eleven

    Belly and I have never been able to hold grudges against one another. We'd go maybe an hour tops before getting over our petty fight and going back to normal. However, this fight felt different than the others; her words were harsher and have been replaying in my head for days, like a movie on repeat. She hasn't spoken to me in days, no matter how hard I try. Not even muffins from the good place in town could coax her into talking to me again. She merely pushed the box away before walking back upstairs.

Conrad and I haven't spoken either, and it's killing me. The thing is, I don't know what to say to him... I liked kissing him. I can't look at him without thinking about it, making me feel like an even worse sister. He tried talking to me the following day, and I had to pretend I had some writing thing to do and rush away. Since then, things have been awkward; I can't talk to him until I sort things out with Belly, making me unsure of how to act around him.

And today was the day I was going to turn things around. It's her birthday, her favourite day of the year. How could Belly stay mad at me when I'd woken up early to make her Mickey Mouse pancakes and decorate the table with flowers and balloons. We're all in the kitchen, waiting for her to come down. Mom's sticking candles into the stack of pancakes I made while Steven and Susannah set the table.

Conrad's sitting at the counter, his hair is falling over his forehead as he leans over, eating a bowl of cereal. Memories of how he looked the other night flooded my mind, his hair messy, his lips parted as he got his breath. I wish things were easier, that I could talk to him without having to worry about my little sister hating me forever. Instead, I stand near the coffee machine, watching as coffee pours into the pot, not daring to look over at Conrad out of fear of him catching me, "has Tripp talked to you since your date?" Jeremiah asks in a hushed tone, pulling down two coffee cups.

"Huh?" I look up at him, pulled away from my thoughts of his brother, "uh, no. Why?"

"You've just seemed kind of upset these last few days," He shrugs, a concerned smile on his face.

"I guess I'm just a little overwhelmed," I shrug, not a complete lie. Life has been very overwhelming lately. Between the deb, Conrad, Belly and writing my book, I felt like I had no time to just sit and relax. Today was my first day working with Cleveland, though, so hopefully, the sailing lessons will help me feel a bit more inspired.

"Well, if you ever need another milkshake drive to vent, I'm here."

For the first time in days, a genuine smile makes its way onto my face, "thank you, Jeremiah."

Before Jeremiah could say anything else, Belly walked into the kitchen, a broad smile on her face, "Morning, everyone." She greets. She chuckles as everyone greets her in unison, and for the first time in days, things feel somewhat normal with her.

"There's the birthday girl," Susannah rushes to hug her, "looking like a vision in floral."

Jeremiah leaves me to hug her, leaning down to be closer to her height, "Happy sweet 16, Bells."

"Now Belly Button's getting old finally," Steven teased, taking a bite of bacon, "happy birthday."

Mom moves to hug Belly, and I hesitantly walk up behind her, my hands anxiously clasped in front of me, "Happy birthday, sweetheart. Your Mickey Mouse pancakes are ready. I hope you're hungry."

Jeremiah walks up behind me, loosely swinging his arm over my shoulder, "Florence made them this year, and it's a birthday miracle she didn't burn the house down." He teases, ruffling my hair.

Belly finally looks over at me, and her impossibly happy grin falls, "Actually, I'm not really hungry," she looks away from me, replacing her bitter expression with a small smile. She doesn't say thank you or laugh at Jeremiah's joke about my terrible skills in the kitchen. Instead, she just looks away, pretending I don't exist.