Waves • Conrad Fisher

four

"Then maybe you guys should, too." Conrad spoke, making Sarah whip her head around to look at him.

Jackie looked at him in confusion. "What does that mean?"

Conrad only shrugged his shoulders.

"I hope you realize this night could have ended a lot differently if your family wasn't your family." Laurel said, glancing between the teenagers.

"We're sorry, Laur." Jeremiah apologized on behalf of all of them.

Jackie sighed. "Just... go to bed, guys."

Sarah let out a heavy sigh as she stood up and followed everyone up the stairs. She gave her brother a small side hug before going into her bedroom.

••••

Sarah was brushing her teeth in the upstairs bathroom when Jeremiah came in, shutting the door behind him.

"What's going on with you and Con? Why are you guys so mad at each other?" Jeremiah asked as he reached for his toothbrush. He hopped up onto the sink.

Jeremiah hated it when people fought. It was part of why he always played the clown. He took it upon himself to bring levity to any situation. It was sweet but also kind of annoying.

"Um, because he's a self-righteous neo-maxi-zoom-dweebie?" Sarah responded through a mouthful of toothpaste.

They both laughed at that. It was one of their little inside jokes, a line from The Breakfast Club that they spent repeating to each other the summer she was nine and he was eight.

Jeremiah cleared his throat. "Seriously, though, don't be so hard on him. He's going through some stuff."

This was news to Sarah.

"What? What stuff?" She demanded.

Jeremiah hesitated. "It's not up to me to tell you."

"Come on. We tell each other everything, Jere. No secrets, remember?"

He smiled. "I remember. But I still can't tell you. It's not my secret."

Sarah frowned and turned the faucet on. "You always take his side."

"I'm not taking his side. I'm just telling his side."

"Same thing."

Jeremiah reached out and turned the corners of Sarah's mouth up. It was one of his oldest tricks; no matter what, it made her smile.

"No pouting, Sar, remember?" He teased.

No Pouting was a rule Conrad and Liam had made up one summer. It was when Sarah was eight or nine. The thing was it only applied to her. They even put a sign up on her bedroom door. She tore it down, of course, and she ran and told Susannah and her mother. That night she got seconds on dessert, she remembered.

Anytime Sarah acted the slightest bit sad or unhappy, one of the boys would start yelling, 'No pouting. No pouting'. And, okay, maybe she did pout a lot, but it was the only way she could ever get her way.

••••

It was early in the morning and the sky was still dim.

Sarah sat up straight in her bed to see the dim sky shining through the blinds on her window. She used both of her hands to rub the sleep out of her eyes before letting out a heavy sigh.

She got out of bed and went to change. When she was dressed in a white button up shirt, rolling up the sleeves with some jean shorts, pairing it off with flip-flops. She tied her hair up, pieces of hair were falling down framing her face.