Kissing Booth (Rewritten)

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A Day Off

Jamie Myers

What the fuck have I done, was all I could think to myself when I found myself seated in the waiting room of the local hospital with my hands tangled in my long hair and my eyes glued to the tiled floor beneath me. I had probably been stuck in this position for a good hour or so, just getting lost in my troubling thoughts. I made the trip to the hospital with Amy after struggling to tell her that I had accidently pushed her brother into a wall. She'd given me a look of despair like I had just killed her brother, which didn't help at all, and insisted that we go to the hospital without notifying their mother. She wouldn't explain why, but she said it would be best.

I dug into my pocket, anxiously searching for a blunt and lighter, and I stuck the joint into my mouth with just seconds away from lighting it when Amy spoke from beside me, "you can't do that in here."

I scoffed. "Fuck if I care," I said, short.

"They can fine you," she said again, like it would've made a difference.

I shrugged. "Let them."

Growing irritated, Amy snatched the blunt from my mouth and stuck it in her purse. "You know why we're here? Because you hurt my brother! The least you could do is have some respect and not smoke in the goddamn hospital before you hurt someone else!"

I was being harsh, I'd admit it, but it wasn't like I could control the way I was feeling right now. I felt horrible. I felt responsible. I felt like a bad friend.

It was strange that I had decided to use that word to describe our relationship. Surely, Scar didn't think of us as friends and I was sure we would've never talked to each other if it wasn't for me blackmailing him, but I had grown to like his company. I liked making him uncomfortable and I liked teasing him and his unconditional love when it came to Francesca. It was nice to have that kind of connection with someone. It was the first connection that I truly had to someone other than my sister.

"It's a stress thing," I felt the need to say.

"Why are you stressing? He's gonna be fine."

I wanted to roll my eyes, but I tried not to. It was cute of her to have such hope, but she was wrong. Believing that someone was going to be okay didn't automatically make them okay. Hell, I thought my parents would be okay when I left them alone in that car, but they weren't. They died.

I felt my phone buzzing in my pocket for what felt like the millionth time that day, and I should've known that a sigh would've fallen from my lips once I tugged it free and glanced at the name on the screen. I stared blankly at the phone for a few seconds, watching it vibrate in my hands, and then I pushed it back into my pocket.

Amy nudged my shoulder. "Who's Jillian?"

"My sister."

"Is there a reason why you keep ignoring her calls?" There was a something childish about the way she posed the question, and it made me smile.

"Let's just say..." I brought my attention to her, "...Scar and I have something in common: we're both bad brothers."

Amy's gaze lingered over the set of magazines stacked upon the coffee table in front of us before she finally said, "Scar isn't a bad brother­–at least, he wasn't. It's just, you know, any given circumstance can change a person. We're all a product of our experiences and in my brother's case ... I guess, it just changed him too much."

"What changed him?" I pried.

"Our dad's death."

I couldn't stop my lips from parting in awe. "Oh, I–I, uh, I'm sorry."