Lucy's Sketches

Chapter 7

Josh Missed His Calling

Isabelle

Sitting up on the camping cot, I yawn a long hippopotamus yawn. My gaze sweeps across the surroundings, tracing the faint outlines of furniture and decor. It must be very early, I guess.... or maybe the curtains are just really thick.

Throwing back the covers, I swing my legs over the side of the bed and plant my feet on the floor. I look under the bed and find my sweatshirt there; it originally belonged to Sam, but we both decided that it looked better on me.

Strangely, it still smells like him, even though it's been washed a few times. With a determined sigh, I gather my emotions and push aside the sadness and longing that has once more crept in. As I slip my arms into the sleeves of the sweatshirt, I try to focus on the present moment, allowing the simple act of getting dressed to ground me in the here and now. The fabric's warmth and the sensation of the soft material against my skin serve as a reminder that I have the strength to face the day ahead... maybe.

My stomach growls loudly, reminding me of its existence while I make my way to the bathroom to check on Josh. The bathroom door isn't closed all the way, and I can see him standing in front of the mirror, pulling a series of playful faces at his reflection. He's such a kid sometimes; I don't know what we would do without him.

"What in the world are you doing, Josh?" I ask, my voice breaking the silence. Startled, he jumps and lets out a surprised squeal, clearly caught off guard by my presence.

"Holy moly, you scared the shit out of me," he exclaims, his voice a mixture of surprise and amusement. He turns to face me, a grin forming on his face as he recovers from his initial shock.

"Language, Josh," I say with a grin. I notice the dark shadows under his eyes, and my smile falters. "How did you sleep?"

"Well," Josh begins, a mischievous glint in his eyes, predicting what's to come next. "I laid down on the couch, closed my eyes, and then-"

Seriously, this guy! Is he ten years old? Nope, even Lucy is more mature than he is!

"You know that's not what I meant," I growl. It's too early in the morning to deal with Mr Crazypants... and I mean that quite literally because the pants he'd slept in are covered in words written in fat letters with random colours. "Yeah! Oh, Boy! Cheers! Wow!" are only some of the statements screamed from his loud pants. I don't even want to try to imagine what it is that has his pants that excited.

"I slept fine, Izzie," Josh replies with a reassuring pat on my arm, and I want to argue with him since the evidence to the contrary is stacked high, but my bladder has realised that I'm awake and in the bathroom, and it wants to make the best of the opportunity.

"Okay, fine. If you say so," I grumble, glaring at him as a poor alternative to scolding him for lying and nagging him to just lean on me when he needs to. Golly, I've been leaning on him all over the place since the moment my life went to hell; it's about time he returns the favour.

"Why are you glaring at me?" he laughs, brushing a hand through his fringe, turning it into a masterpiece Johnny Bravo would've been extremely jealous of.

"I need to use the loo," I reply, narrowing my eyes at him to warn him of the seriousness of the situation. I am pretty sure he didn't bring his surfboard or his goggles, even though the shirt he wore yesterday screamed of sandy beaches and breaking waves. If I'm not allowed to use the toilet soon, there is going to be a tsunami, and it is not going to be pretty.

"Oh, my word. You are so cranky in the morning," Josh chuckles as he walks out of the bathroom, eliminating the risk of imminent flooding.

"I'm hungry!" I growl as I close the bathroom door.