Une Fleure Fanée

Week 11 Part 6 (Friday)

      Birds are chirping in our alarms as we wake up from ten hours of refreshing sleep, but Cardiff sure does disagree with the tweeting. Cloudy, teetering on the edge of rain. That is surely a good sign, right?

     "Did our parents put our outfits in our dressers?" I ask Sarah groggily, as I sit up in my bed.

     "I don't think so, but I think they're in our suitcases," Sarah replies, groaning sleepily as she stumbles to her suitcase.

    I do the same, kneeling in front of my suitcase to open it up. I see red, white, and blue clothing. Strange to see how much Fire and Ice Day looks like we're about to become the modern versions of Uncle Sam.

    This time, I beat her to the bathroom, getting ready first. I put on a red rib short-sleeved shirt with some white dots from Nordstrom, high-waisted ripped denim shorts from Urban Outfitters, some white Converse high top from Foot Locker, a daisy choker necklace, some daisy stud earrings, both from Claire's, and Mom also included a red and blue phone case to make it look like fire and ice.

    I put up my hair in a half up half down ponytail, taking sections from the front of my hair and putting them in the back. I add some red-tinted lip gloss, red eyeshadow on one side, and blue on the other. Fire and ice.

     I then move onto my wrists. I remove my bandages to see my wrists are just obliterated as usual. All red and scratched up. It's like damaged lungs when you smoke for a while. A bad side effect to an addiction. It helps me feel. Your arms look so big, Lilliana. Why didn't you pick something that covered you more when you were shopping. You should've come more prepared.

    I grab some foundation and concealer. I'm wearing something short-sleeved, but at least the cuts aren't all up my arms. Just my wrists. That's not as bad as some other people's scars, right? I swallow my medication, hoping it will calm my anxiety and intrusive thoughts for once.

    I double-check my wrists before I exit the bathroom. Sarah rushes in to get ready and I transfer the razor from my galaxy phone case to the fire and ice one as I pack up. I can't forget the razor. It's the padlock that holds my lies together. If they unlock it or find it, everything is over.

     I pack up my suitcase as Sarah gets out. She must have packed up while I got ready. Smart. There's not much. Just my toiletries, hairbrush, my outfit from yesterday, and my pajamas. I look at the clock on my phone. Eight-thirty.

     We suddenly hear a knock on the door, but we don't have to look outside to hear our moms very loudly chatting outside of our hotel door. Sarah, being the one closest to the door, opens it, and I sit up from my bed.

     "Hey, girls, how are you doing?" the moms ask, walking in with their purses and suitcases in tow.

     "Tired," Sarah replies, yawning, and I agree, not wanting to tell the truth.

     "Well, here are some protein bars for you guys for breakfast, and now we have to head down to the lobby," Mom orders, handing us two Quest s'mores protein bars.

     I look at the nutrition label. One gram of sugar. It's still a dessert though. S'mores have marshmallows and chocolate. I can't eat it. It's too risky. Sarah starts munching on her protein bar in the elevator, but I open mine and take fake bites. I grab my coat and head to the lobby.

     I throw away my wrapper and my protein bar, and Sarah notices. She gives me a small frown and I look down at the ground, slowing down a bit in my stride as I tug my suitcase weakly to the lobby, where Brady and Hannah are already there.

     I sit next to Hannah, who gives me a really big hug. She can tell I haven't eaten. She probably saw me throw it in the trash, then saw Sarah's reaction, then she probably made the connection.