From The Start
one
A part of me kind of wanted to scream how much I hated her.
I was walking home and it was raining—down pouring if you want to be dramatic—because Mary was incapable of being on time, incapable performing simple tasks and being a good friend. Another part of me hated her more than I’d ever hated anything before. My jeans were soaked through and my shirt had sort of become another part of me, all wet and slick against my skin. The summer rain had felt good that morning, a break from the heat and sweat of the weeks before, but right then it was chilling me to bone. My teeth were chattering by the time I got to the corner of Belmont and Chase, two blocks away from Dilly’s and two miles away from where I needed to be. All I needed was a ride. And a tiny little part of me wanted to die on the side of the road and to fill her with every last bit of guilt, but I knew she wouldn’t even think twice about it.
When the car pulled up next to me I figured it was God’s way of saying, “ha-ha, Olivia, now it’s my turn to screw you over.” I figured that the people inside of that car were going to kill me then roast me over a blazing fire in the middle of the dessert. I figured I was dead and gone. The side door opened and little stick legs climbed out, forming a little stick body and then forming Pat. Little monkey Pat. He gave me one of those what the hell looks that I get a lot, and motioned for me to get in the car, which I did. Obedient Olivia, as always.
John was driving and the red-head kid they were friends with was sitting to my right. On the other side of him, with the other window seat, was someone I had never seen before. He wasn’t looking at me, wasn’t even paying attention. “What the hell, Liv?” John muttered and pulled back onto the road, accelerating.
“I don’t know,” I sighed and leaned back, staring at the roof of the car. Most definitely John’s—the smell of his cologne was all over it, in the seats and in the air. And it was a crappy old compact, all rectangular and definitely not made for five grown people to fit into. “Mary was supposed to pick me up. She said she would.”
Pat looked back at me and then looked at the red-head, the one that Mary had gone with for awhile. He was frowning, a straight face completely, something that was really unusual for him. “Mary left, Liv. She’s gone. She got on a plane this morning.”
“What?” What happened to this summer will be our last big thing, Liv? What happened to you’re my best friend, Liv, and I’ll never leave you all alone? “How do you know?”
“She called me,” the red-head muttered—Nick, that was his name—and glanced at me, sideways, only half-caring, “from the plane. To say that she was sorry. And she told me to tell you that she’d see you at home. I don’t know.”
God, she was a bitch.
I was walking home and it was raining—down pouring if you want to be dramatic—because Mary was incapable of being on time, incapable performing simple tasks and being a good friend. Another part of me hated her more than I’d ever hated anything before. My jeans were soaked through and my shirt had sort of become another part of me, all wet and slick against my skin. The summer rain had felt good that morning, a break from the heat and sweat of the weeks before, but right then it was chilling me to bone. My teeth were chattering by the time I got to the corner of Belmont and Chase, two blocks away from Dilly’s and two miles away from where I needed to be. All I needed was a ride. And a tiny little part of me wanted to die on the side of the road and to fill her with every last bit of guilt, but I knew she wouldn’t even think twice about it.
When the car pulled up next to me I figured it was God’s way of saying, “ha-ha, Olivia, now it’s my turn to screw you over.” I figured that the people inside of that car were going to kill me then roast me over a blazing fire in the middle of the dessert. I figured I was dead and gone. The side door opened and little stick legs climbed out, forming a little stick body and then forming Pat. Little monkey Pat. He gave me one of those what the hell looks that I get a lot, and motioned for me to get in the car, which I did. Obedient Olivia, as always.
John was driving and the red-head kid they were friends with was sitting to my right. On the other side of him, with the other window seat, was someone I had never seen before. He wasn’t looking at me, wasn’t even paying attention. “What the hell, Liv?” John muttered and pulled back onto the road, accelerating.
“I don’t know,” I sighed and leaned back, staring at the roof of the car. Most definitely John’s—the smell of his cologne was all over it, in the seats and in the air. And it was a crappy old compact, all rectangular and definitely not made for five grown people to fit into. “Mary was supposed to pick me up. She said she would.”
Pat looked back at me and then looked at the red-head, the one that Mary had gone with for awhile. He was frowning, a straight face completely, something that was really unusual for him. “Mary left, Liv. She’s gone. She got on a plane this morning.”
“What?” What happened to this summer will be our last big thing, Liv? What happened to you’re my best friend, Liv, and I’ll never leave you all alone? “How do you know?”
“She called me,” the red-head muttered—Nick, that was his name—and glanced at me, sideways, only half-caring, “from the plane. To say that she was sorry. And she told me to tell you that she’d see you at home. I don’t know.”
God, she was a bitch.
♠ ♠ ♠
comments/criticisms?