Cruel Summer - Conrad Fisher

fourteen

    Dinner was brutally awkward. For starters, Belly brought Cam, who is by far one of the sweetest boys I've ever met. He spoke to me on multiple occasions throughout the meal, wanting to get to know Belly's big sister a bit better. He asked about how my book was going when an awkward silence fell over the table, and before I went upstairs, he even apologized for how we met, claiming that he appreciates that Belly has a big sister looking out for her. He clearly knew nothing about the fight Belly and I had, while everyone else at the table was very much aware of it.

Now, I sat on my bay window, my laptop on my lap. I'd started writing my novel and was way behind on my word count goal. I figured since Belly obviously doesn't want me going to the party with them tonight, and I've screwed things up with Conrad more than they were, I might as well get as much writing done as I can. The stories became more clear as the days went on. I knew who my character was, who the people in her life were and what I wanted to happen. Now I just had to write something that, in theory, sounds easy, but once I'm actually sitting in front of the word doc, my mind wanders.

Belly and Taylor are giggling in the next room, getting ready to go to some parties at Nicole's. Unlike the two girls freshening up their makeup and getting changed for the party, I'd thrown on a pair of PJ shorts and a cousin's sweatshirt that I'm pretty sure used to belong to one of the boys ages ago before I claimed it as my own. I take a sip of the steaming cup of coffee that I'd made to help me stay up for writing before allowing my fingers to hit the keyboard of my laptop. One thing I learned from Cleveland today when we talked about writing was just to write, don't worry about perfection or whether something makes complete sense. Edit later. Write now. I've gotten most of my writing advice from mom, who's a perfectionist, and too stressed not to double-check her work as she is writing.

Something about writing relaxes me. Unlike my own life, which is currently messy and confusing, pulling me every which way, I can control what I write, nothing the characters go through is a surprise to me, and no matter how bad things might get for them, I can always guarantee things will get better. For the first time all day, I'm not thinking about Belly or Conrad. Nothing about my own day takes over my mind as the characters come to life on the page, my fingers rapidly moving around the keys.

I only stop typing when mom knocks on my door, peeking in before I can tell her to enter, "can we talk?" She asks me hesitantly, moving into my room without an answer.

I shut my laptop, placing it down beside me. Mom sounded serious, which isn't unusual, but concerning nevertheless, "yeah, what's up?" I ask her, twisting the quilt Susannah made me between my hands.

"I wanna talk about what's going on between you and your sister," Mom doesn't beat around the bush, as she sits on my bed. I guess we were bound to have a conversation about this at some point, "she seems really upset. I don't know what you did, but you should apologize."

Of course, she thinks this is my fault, "b-but-"

"I really don't want to argue about this, Florence," Mom cuts me off, raising a tired hand, "you're her older sister, but quite frankly, not apologizing to your sister is childish."

I want to argue so badly that I actually hadn't done anything. Belly was the one who said the offhanded comments and terrible things about me. I've done nothing but care about her, "Okay," I nod, biting back my words.

"Thank you," She stands up, nodding at me, "and I get you're busy with your novel, but it's your little sister's sweet sixteen. You should've been there tonight, I know it's hard to believe, but some things are more important than your novel."

I know she means well because she's been in that place where her novel comes before everything. She doesn't want me to be that way. Her words still sting, though, as if I was some selfish person who put herself before everything and anyone. Finally, mom leans over, kissing the top of my head before walking over to my door with a grateful smile. "Goodnight, mom," I say, pulling my laptop back onto my lap.

"Goodnight, Flo," She nods before closing my door behind her.

I sigh, running my fingers through my hair. It seems that no matter what I do, I'm disappointing someone. I talk to Belly and keep an eye on her, Mom's happy, but if I go to the party with Belly and interact with Conrad, Belly's pissed off. I can't win, no matter what I do.

As if my best friend can sense me needing someone to talk to right now, my phone rings beside me, a picture of Isla and I taking over my screen. We took it at Christmas, in the matching PJs I'd bought us. Steven had sneakily taken it without either of us noticing. Both ducked under our blankets in the living room, our onesie hoodies pulled up and sheet masks covering our faces. We laughed at how ridiculous we looked in this photo for hours before deciding to make it our contact photos for one another.

I expect to see her goofy grin on my screen my I accept, but instead, I'm greeted by a teary-eyed Isla, her freckled cheeks blotched with tear stains, "what's wrong?" I ask her immediately, sitting up straighter.

"Just my parents being my parents," She mutters, angrily rubbing at a stray tear. Her parents have always been strict, but I've never seen Isla cry because of it. They were this way because of her oldest sister, who'd got pregnant as a teenager and moved away when she was seventeen. I think they were scared Isla, their youngest and only other daughter, would end up the same somehow, which resulted in them keeping her on a very tight leash.

"What'd they do this time?"

"We were eating dinner with Jason at his and Maggie's new place," She explains. Jason's her middle brother, who's in his twenties and just moved in with his fiancé, "and he brought up visiting you for fourth of July... he teased me about finally breaking free, and they freaked. Suddenly worried that his joke meant something more. So now... they're forcing me to visit my grandparents with them instead."

My heart drops in my chest. The only thing that kept me sane during this whole thing was knowing that Isla would be here on my birthday... and now she can't come, "w-what?" I stutter, my voice quiet.

"I'm so sorry, Flo," She apologizes, tears pouring down her face. It's rare to see Isla cry. The sight alone makes me want to get in my car and drive home to see her. "I tried everything, but they think I'm going to do something stupid and end up like Sarah. No matter how hard I've tried, they just don't trust me."

"You don't have to apologize," I reassure her, shaking my head, "I'm really sorry your parents act like this. I wish there was something I could do."

"It's okay," She shrugs, though it's really not, "I just wish I could be there. I mean, it's your eighteenth birthday."

"We'll just celebrate when I get home," I say. I've never been the optimistic one in our friendship. Typically, Isla is the one finding the bright side of things. Right now, though, I'll do anything to reassure Isla it's okay, even if it's not okay.

"Okay," She nods, sniffling. She sighs a second later, "My mom's calling me. I've gotta go." Before I can respond, she adds, "I miss you."

Tears prick my eyes, "I miss you too," I say, a sad smile on my face as Isla hangs up. I throw my phone onto the cushion next to me before placing my laptop beside it, curling my knees up to my chest, and resting my head on top of them. Everything is falling apart, my little sister hates me, I can't seem to reach the expectations mom has for me, I have no clue what the hell is happening with Conrad, and now, to top it all off, my best friend, the only person I could talk to about any of this can't come to visit.

I just want this summer to be over already.

Two chapters in one night, who am I?

Ahhhh, everything is so sad rn, but I promise, things are gonna get happy very soon. Next few chapters are Fourth of July/ Florence's birthday, so be prepared for some of that!!