ephemeral [ Conrad Fisher ]

13

YESTERDAY, had been a dream fuled by sugar and the feeling of my heart trying to burst out my chest. I had thought for sure that it had been a one time fluke - seeing the old Conrad shine through this dark persona he had taken on within the last year. I knew I wasn;t going to see much of him today. Instead of being able to lounge around again, instead I'd be spending almost all day at the country club, trying to master whatever dance they threw at us for the deb ball.As much as I was no longer wanting to dothe whole debutante things here in cousins, I was looking forward to dancing. It was one of the few things that made me feel truly alive.

I was tasked with driving myself and Belly to the Country Club, Conrad's keys were left on the island with specific instructions from Susannah that I needed to make sure we got there early, and what we could expect. The car ride was tense, I wish I could say awkward, but I think even that would be an understatement. I hadn't talked to Belly since the night in the drive in, and quite frankly I had no desire to. 

Instead of feeding into it, I cranked the radio up andfocused on the road ahead, my fingers gripping the steering wheel just a little too tightly. Being able to get out of the car and walk into the country club was a relief, even if I didn't want to be there, I wanted to be in that car even less. As we stepped out of the car, Belly's posture was stiff and her expression unreadable. I avoided making eye contact as we made our way to the entrance. The country club was abuzz with activity, debutantes and their partners practicing dance moves and engaging in polite conversations. I didn't know who I was going to dance with today, let alone who would be my partner for the actual ball - a bullet I was going to have to bite sooner rather than later.

We joined the group, and the instructor wasted no time in getting started. The routine for the debutante ball was intricate, combining traditional ballroom steps with modern twists. It was a dance that demanded grace, precision, and flawless coordination. I listened intently as the instructor demonstrated the steps, my mind racing to grasp the movements. As we began practicing, I lost myself in the rhythm. The steps felt familiar, like an old friend welcoming me back. Muscle memory kicked in, and I found myself moving with ease. It was as if my body was meant for this, as if dancing was the language it understood best.

The hours flew by as we drilled the routine again and again. Each step, each turn, became second nature. It was a relief to throw myself into the dance, to escape from the chaos of my thoughts. However, just as the day was beginning to feel like a triumph, the instructor asked me to step to the front of the group and demonstrate the routine. My heart leaped into my throat as all eyes turned to me. The spotlight was on me, and my palms grew sweaty. I fought to keep my composure, reminding myself that I was no stranger to performing. Taking a deep breath, I positioned myself at the front and let the music guide me.

The dance flowed from me effortlessly, and I embraced each movement with a sense of liberation. I felt alive, connected to the music and the steps in a way that words couldn't express. When the music faded, the silence was replaced by applause and murmurs of approval. Even though I was relieved that it was over, a part of me craved the rush of performing, I couldnt help but wonder how different my summer would have been had I decided to go to Ballet camp instead of finally going with the boy to cousins.

But as the day concluded and we headed back to the car, I couldn't shake off the feeling that the challenges of the day were far from over. Belly was leaning against the hood of Conrad's SUV by the time I made it to her, her arms crossed and her expression guarded. The tension between us was palpable, a reflection of the unspoken words that lingered between us. I steeled myself for whatever confrontation was about to unfold.

"You know," she began, her tone sharp, "you've managed to turn this whole summer into your personal circus."

I bit back a retort, realizing that engaging in an argument was the last thing I wanted, especially when I had to drive home with her. Instead, I kept my gaze forward, my voice steady. "Belly, let's not do this."

"Why not?" she challenged, her eyes flashing with a mix of anger and hurt. "You came in and changed everything. This was supposed to be our summer, and now you've taken that away from me."

I could feel the weight of her words, the guilt that threatened to consume me. But I refused to let it show. "This wasn't about taking anything away from you, Belly. It was about spending time with Jeremiah and Conrad."

Belly's frustration was evident as she huffed out a bitter laugh. "Jeremiah and Conrad. Always Jeremiah and Conrad. Do you ever stop to think how that feels, to feel like you're the third wheel, the scapegoat, the one that's left behind like she's a kid when in reality it shouldn't be like that?" she glares at me "You're the outsider here Lennox, not me."

Before I could respond, Conrad appeared, his presence a welcome distraction from the brewing storm. "Belly, that's enough." he snapped

For a moment, it seemed like Belly might heed his words. But the stubborn glint in her eyes remained as she turned away from us. "Fine," she muttered before storming off.

I exhaled a breath I hadn't realized I was holding, my shoulders slumping as the tension in the air began to dissipate. Conrad's gaze met mine, "You okay, Nox?"

I nodded, forcing a small smile. "Yeah, I'm fine. I just... don't get it."

He shook his head, his expression softening. "You didn't, Nox. Belly's just...being Belly."

I nodded a little, "I just want things to be okay."

Conrad reached out and squeezed my shoulder. "They will be, Nox. Just ignore her, it'll blow over."

"I hope you're right."