Cherry

You can hear the faint pulse of the bass coming from your house – everyone’s still celebrating. You’re sneaking out with your older, more fun-loving friends as the night draws close to two a.m., giggling and speaking in hushed tones as adrenaline shoots through your body. Lacing fingers with the new boy your friend brought, with the curled locks and long lashes – you told your parents and same age friends you’d known him for a while – and sneaking looks at him as the somehow still warm summer air dances against your legs.

They’ve led you to a park and one of the girls produces a bottle of liqueur, more than likely snatched from your parent’s prized collection. She reads off the label, before smirking and popping the cap, taking a swig. It’s passed around in a circle and the alcohol hits you hard – you’ve never had it before. Everyone urges you to take some more, and as your head swirls to dizzying heights, you find yourself making out with the new boy. His kisses are sloppy, and all you can taste is the sickly sweet drink. He’s biting your lips and groping blindly. You pull away, and hear a few people whistling.

The friend who brought the new boy beckons you over – “tie a knot in this, he’ll love it”. She offers you a cherry stem with a wink and tells you how. You stagger back over to the cute boy, and show him the stem. You tie a knot with some struggle, but all he’s concentrating on is the movements of your mouth – he could care less that you achieved it. As you two start to kiss again, a loud piercing siren hits the air.

Someone’s decided to light a fire, and you’ve been caught in the process. You and your older, more fun-loving friends are hauled down to the local station, and you’ve got a new knot tying itself in your stomach.