Seventeen-year old first year college student Josie Clarke would prefer not to blush the colour crimson at every little thing, but Idiopathic Craniofacial Erythema, a chronic facial condition doesn't play fair.
In fact, it's as uncontrollable...
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"Everybody stand back, give the girl some space," Linda instructs, sounding just like my mum, herding concerned guests away from me as I lay flat on the grass, now conscious.
Upon opening my eyes, Max and Mel and Linda and Libby, even Sophia had been above me, like a wheel of facial expressions. Some shocked. Some scared. Some slightly amused, like Mel once she realised I'd survive passing out.
"Can someone get a glass of water, please? Oh, and a wet cloth. There's some under the sink." Again, Linda acts as barrier between aunts and uncles and me, with my head now propped up under Max's folded, flannel shirt.
It smells like him.
He kneels beside me. Sophia and her hair peer over the top, Libby springing out to the side of her. I can see they're sharply elbowing each other passively and aggressively.
They start to bicker.
"I told you not to come round. God, you're such a bad omen. Bad shit just clings to you, doesn't it?"
Sophia brushes off her comments and continues to peer down, a flicker of concern noticeable in the way she bites the corner of her lip and how she reaches into her handbag. "Mum and dad said you weren't supposed to be here either. You're the one I caught sneaking out their bedroom window..."
"You're the one who was supposed to be up at Uni, forever. This isn't your home anymore," Libby spits, as Sophia pulls out a half-empty water bottle and offers it to me. "Oh christ, I'm going inside to get some proper water. Don't drink that, Josie. It's probably contaminated."
As she leaves in a huff, Sophia crouches low, resting her arm on top of Max's shoulder. "She think's I tell our parents about her sneaking out but I never do," she laughs softly, "It's kind of funny to see her get so riled up though."
I mumble something jumbled because it hurts my throat to talk.
"You should have a sip, if you can." It's Sophia again, offering me water like she's Mother Theresa come to rescue me.
Linda nods. "You really should darling, you're still awfully warm."
She's not wrong. I feel it all over. As if I've been raked over the earth's molten core.
Taking small sips, of which most dribbles down my chin, Max reaches out to receive a sopping wet cloth from his aunt Rita, which he wrings and gently places over my forehead. I want to grab at his wrist. I want to be taken away from here. Far, far away before the embarrassment truly kills me but I can't escape.
When I drag my elbows up, to sit, Sophia looks at me with pity, and says, "I'm Sophia by the way."
