Cruel Summer - Conrad Fisher

twenty-one

    I can barely lift my head when I wake up, my eyes fluttering open and then immediately closing again. All of my shades were drawn, the lights in my room off to create darkness, but it was still too bright in my room, my eyes sensitive to the sudden light, no matter how dim it may be. I groan, forcing myself to sit up, my eyes landing on Isla sitting on my bay window, already changed into PJs and reading one of the books off my shelf, "You're alive," she greets me, standing to move over to me. I recognize the green drink in her hand as Jeremiah's world-famous hangover smoother.

"Barely," I mutter, rubbing my temple. My eyes felt heavy, and not just from the hangover. They were puffy and swollen from crying myself to sleep, my skin burning from the salty tears that shed down my cheeks.

"Jeremiah made you this before he left to do fireworks," She offered, sitting opposite of me. I don't have to ask to know she feels bad for me, her expressions laced with a mix of concern and pity, "your mom's out, and Belly is sleeping still..."

"Oh," I nod, cautiously eyeing the liquid. It smelt worse than it looks, making me want to gag. Jeremiah swore by this stuff, though. That morning Conrad had been hungover, he bounced back pretty quick after drinking this. My headache is so bad I'd do anything to get rid of it, including drinking this disgusting smoothie.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" She asks me as I take a small sip. It didn't taste as bad as I thought it would, the strong banana flavour masking whatever else Jeremiah put in the smoothie, "I've never seen you like that before."

"I'm sorry," I apologize, my memory flooding with how I'd acted when I walked back into my room. Isla had just woken up and was probably feeling how I am right now.

"You're sorry?" Isla asks, confused. I nod. "Flo, you do not need to apologize, like at all. Do you remember what happened?"

I sigh because it'd be easier if I didn't. All I could think about was the words mom yelled at me. I was a disappointment, a bad older sister and immature. I told Isla everything, and her being the amazing, supportive best friend she is, she just sat there, letting me take my time telling her everything that went down between mom and I, "And then I came up here," I explained, finishing the last of my drink. I still felt like shit, but my head felt less heavy, my eyes able to open a bit wider.

"You said that to her?" Isla asks, saying something for the first time in a while. Her eyes are wide in disbelief. I've never been courageous enough to stand up for myself like that, especially to mom.

"I know," I sigh, running my fingers through my hair, which Isla had curled earlier. It was now knotted and frizzy from sleep, "it was harsh, and-"

"No," Isla cuts me off, reaching over to squeeze my hand, "I'm proud of you, Flo. For sticking up for yourself. I love your mom, but she deserved that. Do you remember anything else? I kind of slept most of the day... turns out alcohol makes me tired."

I laugh, thinking over the day, "I remember talking to Nicole," I shrug, though the conversation is a blur to me, maybe she asked about Conrad, or maybe we talked about the Deb? I honestly can't remember. I also remember everyone leaving, though the reason is still unclear to me... and then finally, I remember Conrad, wet hair hanging over his forehead. Unlike my conversation with Nicole, the one with Conrad is vivid. I remember every detail of the awkward encounter. "Shit..." I mutter, leaning my head in my hands.

"What?" Isla asks, sitting up straighter, "what is it?"

"I might have walked in on Conrad in the shower," I mutter, mortified. Then, before Isla could say anything, I add, "he was wearing swim trunks."

"Can you remember what you said?"

"Unfortunately," I finally look up at her, and she's nodding her head expectantly, waiting for me to share, "I might have told him I find his hair romantic when it's wet."