Natasha Conklin was a stargirl, her demeanor like moonlight in a quiet garden. Even when she cried, stars fell from her eyes, passionate and glowing, burning into her like a branding. She was a mess of a twisted chaos, and you could see it in her solitude. She was all sorts of 'stop and stare', people turning back just to get another glance at the walking dream. A star, beautiful to look at, but impossible to catch, because nobody had the opportunity of saying that they even got close enough to touch her. Her mouth was full of unspoken promises and her lips were glossed with the salty tears of traumatic heartbreaks. And maybe that's why she was untouchable, immeasurable amounts of uncertainty and fear drowning her desire to be cherished, like one cherishes the sweet flavour of peaches in the summertime.
And very much unlike Natasha Conklin, Cousins hadn't changed a single bit since last summer. It has always been a pure euphoria, and the mocking girl, in her sundresses and cherry bikinis, never got bored of it. Similar to how she never got bored of the same boy her heart ached for, the same boy she forbade herself from getting emotionally attached to, because she knew that if by fate or by chance, she ever did, he would slit her soul up like a razor, handing her back the broken fragments as if to say, "You made this mess."
But for now, feelings aside, Natasha Conklin learned to plant her own gardens, decorating her own soul instead of waiting around for the boy to bring her flowers. Wanting him to treat her badly because at least he'll treat her at all. It was a moon song for the stargirl, wretched and deafening. But sitting around the dinner table, laughing at fond memories silenced that sickening, everlasting melody.
"When are you leaving for camp?" Conrad Fisher's face, which once displayed a bright smile, immediately dropped at this question, and he looked down at his plate, like a guilty dog awaiting screams of disappointment and punishment. Natasha Conklin knew that football was a touchy subject for Conrad, especially after his father left. And she should have known that the nauseating sensation of undying sorrow would always return, haunting her like a ghost who took pride in her hurt. "He quit football." Natasha turned to Jeremiah who spoke for his brother, as if the expression on Conrad's face didn't say enough.
"You really quit?" Natasha inquired, her eyes widening by the second as she patiently awaited for Conrad to give her any type of response. Conrad nodded, and his eyes finally met hers, who stared at him in empathetic shock from across the dining table. "Are you kidding me? No, Connie, there's always time to change your mind." But to this, Conrad responded harshly, shutting down the idea and leaving Natasha silent.
"If you're not playing football anymore, what are you going to do all summer?" Laurel asked, and Conrad shrugged, and looked back at Natasha who was playing with her food, tossing it lightly from one side of her plate to another. Her hair fell in front of her face as her fingers held onto her fork, aureate rings clicking softly against the cool metal.
"Dude, you can work at the club. I'm lifeguarding and Steven's working at the snack shop." Steven's eyes lit up at the idea and Jeremiah nodding enthusiastically, the two attempting to brighten the sullen mood. But once again, Conrad shut down the idea, not even bothering to look the two in their eyes as he did.
"Oh, girls, I almost forgot." Susannah drew the girls' attention to her by pulling out small ticket-like sheets of paper, trying to cover up the uneasiness that had settled amongst those sitting around the table. "I have a surprise for you. I wrangled you both an invitation to be debutantes. It's when a girl comes of age and is presented to society." Belly threw her a sour look, in a more confused than disrespectful way, but it was enough for Susannah to continue explaining. "I know it sounds silly, but I swear it's fun. Girls come from all over New England and Cousins just to be a part of it. You'll make so many new friends."
