Grinning wildly, I look at my watch. It's almost time. My hair is neatly slicked back and I've worn the most expensive and decent-looking clothes I own, which are still from the 'specialbuys for boys' section in Walmart.
I have a deep and masculine smell emanating from my neck, which I'm now regretting because it seems quite repugnant, especially to the females in the coffee shop, who turn to look at me with crinkled-up noses.
Isla should be here soon. I'm looking forward to talk to her, but my stomach churns at the fact that I'll have to tell her who I am. The sad truth is, I'm the boy who put her in a two-month long coma. And, I can't expect she'll be to happy about it.
I keep looking towards the door, checking my watch as if the time has changed, and biting my lip. When I suddenly see a red drip on the table, I know I now have a massacred lip. I quickly clean the blood up with a napkin and then press it to my lip.
"Are you a serial killer?" Isla asks, jokingly, sneaking up on ms from behind. She brings with her a flowery scent and she's wearing a Minnie Mouse jumper and ripped jeans. Minimalistic and beautiful.
I shake my head and chuckle at her joke, as she slides into the dimly-lit booth I've picked for us in the corner.
"How are you?" She asks, with her un-massacred lips.
"Good, thanks." I reply. "How are you?"
Her smile turns into a frown and suddenly the booth seems darker.
"Okay. Just learning what I've missed." She looks down at the table. "While I was in the coma, I was meant to play in a prestigious orchestra. I was going to be their lead violinist, but they had to offer it to someone else." She plasters on a sad smile that makes me frown too.
I did that. It's all my fault. And, now, it's going to be even harder to tell her.
A portly lady appears beside our table. Her face is wrinkled and looks like it's stood the test of time.
"What can I get ya two lovebirds?" She says, chirpy and flipping open an order book.
"Uh. We're not." Isla points between her and me. "We're not together." She adds, after the waitress cocks her eyebrows in confusion.
I have no objection to the phrase.
"Oh, ma bad." The waitress shrugs off her mistake. "Sure did look like you two was in love to me. We'll see." She flashes me a cheeky wink.
"I'll take a slice of apple pie." Isla says, in an attempt to clear the air.
The apple pie in the front did look very appetizing, but I decide to just stick with a plain coffee instead.
Once the waitress leaves our booth behind in favour of another couple, we begin to talk.
"So, where do you go to school?" I ask Isla. The question has often puzzled me, she didn't go to Jamestown and there were no other schools in the town.
"Home-schooled." She says. "Didn't want all the high school drama. I was happy with my books." A gust of wind makes her hair dance around in the air, she firmly reigns it in back behind her ears.
"Who taught you?" I find my curiosity asking.
"The library mostly." She smiles and stirs her coffee that the waitress has just delivered. "Enough questions about me, more about you, nobody?"
She points her fork at me.
"Who are you?" She asks, biting into her apple pie.
Spit. It. Out. Bradley.
"Come on, nobody. You must be somebody."
Not that you want to know.
"Tell me. I've literally given you an autobiography of my life." She smiles at her own joke.
Breathe Bradley. And tell her.
"You gonna tell me, or what, nobody?" Isla goes in for a second slice of her apple pie, giving me a split second to make the choice.
"Umm." I falter for a second. "I'm Jared Joseph." I blurt, spilling the first name that comes to mind.
"Jared Joseph." She arches her perfectly-shaped eyebrows. "Now, we're getting somewhere."
She laughs to herself before adding. "That does sound like a rich-ass name."
Yeah. Very rich-ass.
"You rich, Jared?" Isla asks.
Then, I burst into a humble re-telling of Jared's life, having some fun along the way.
"So, I got bitten by a swarm of bees as a child and I have a large green scar across my abdomen."
"Green scar?" Isla asks, obviously knowing I'm joking.
"Yup." I begin snorting at my own joke. Unmanly, but Isla does too and I'm just glad I can make her laugh.
I begin spurting about my/Jared's life and Isla is bent over gracefully laughing and eating her apple pie. She's even more beautiful when she laugh's.
Her red lips curve upwards into a perfect smile and her cheeks blush pink. She also has a cute dimple that appears when she laughs, in line with her nose. She has a wide smile, that makes me want to laugh too.
My plan is working perfectly. Isla's finding me absolutely hilarious and I haven't told her I'm the awful Bradley Monse. Okay, almost perfectly.
But, then two figures appear at the door, disturbing the peace of the cafe with their torrid and loud laughs. In their hands, are distinct cans of coke. Frizzy hair. Black clothes. And on-the-house-Cokes.
Shauna and Murphy.
Just as I'm about to head-dive under the table, Murphy points at me.
"Bradley!" He shouts across the cafe.
I usually try not to swear, but inside I'm cursing myself. Isla's eyebrows furrow with anger and confusion. Damn it, Bradley. Now, is not the time to be thinking about how pretty she is.
"Bradley!" Shauna calls this time, assuming I didn't hear the prior call. "Come listen to Murphy's crappy joke."
Then, Isla gets into action. She's figured it out. Smart as well as beautiful.
Isla Woodley does something that's been a long time coming.
She throws her coffee all over my white jumper.
"Take that, Jared Joseph." She shouts at me in the silent cafe, before storming out of the door.
YOU ARE READING
After the Crash ✓
Teen Fiction"It's day 10, Isla. I wish you would wake up. I've lost everything and you're the only person who understands." Bradley Monse used to have everything. He was the star basketball player. He dated the most popular girl. He had good grades and friends...
