Page 8 of Rebel Summer

Eh. He was probably sporting an ankle monitor while picking up trash on the side of the road somewhere.

Gooooood riddance.

My head weighed a thousand pounds, which was strange when it was literally filled with cotton. Or…bowling balls.

Have I ever bowled before?

A half mile more. I could do that. Easyyyyy peasy.

Easyyyyyy…

Two more minutes. I could handle two more hours. I mean...minutes. Twoooo minutes.

Just like…

…

…

Just like…

The sharp sound of shattering glass popped my eyes open only to have them shut once more as shards came raining down on my arms. Another loud boom and jolt from the cart forced my eyes to open again, only to see what looked like a million bright-red and black plastic toys raining down on me. They fell in slow motion, hitting the windshield of the cart before scattering onto the floor. The golf cart came to a stop with a dramatic huff in the center of the room.

I looked around in a daze before I began losing the battle with exhaustion. I’d done a bad thing. I could sense it. But I couldn’t bring myself to compute much beyond that.

Things were so fuzzy.

I leaned forward, my arms resting on the steering wheel, and finally did the thing I’d been wanting to do all night long. I closed my eyes.

Somewhere in my haze of semi-consciousness, I heard noises. Voices. One voice maybe?

“What the?—”

A door banged open from somewhere. Footsteps slapped against the concrete, coming closer. A hand shook my shoulder.

“Hey! Wake up! What happened?”

“Ivy? Ivy Brooks?”

Was that my name? Why did it sound so different?

“Are you drunk?”

I couldn’t remember my dreams ever having cursing in them. But this dream definitely did. So much language filtered in and out of my consciousness. I’d never heard of some of these words. It was almost offensive.

It was offensive.

I was offended.

This guy would be getting an earful from me whenever I felt like giving it to him. And that voice… I couldn’t place it, but it was so familiar to me. Something about frogs?

“Ivy! You’ve got to wake up. You’re bleeding. There’s glass everywhere.”

This guy can’t tell me what to do. I had finally gotten to a place where I could just sleep.

More swearing and loud noises. Something kept poking at my side and on my skin, occasionally sending bolts of sharp pain up my arms. I jerked away, pushing and fighting whatever it was that didn’t feel good.

“Ivy. Stop hitt—ouch! Never mind. Go back to sleep.”

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