Written In The Sand

By the time Olivia had made her way up the steps to her front door, there was no doubt in her mind that she was the cruellest person in the whole of Lauder. An empty, sick feeling had settled itself into the depths of her stomach, harbouring and festering.

The image of Jack, his head in his hands and unable to look at her, reverberated inside her skull agonizingly. She rubbed her temples and sighed, pressing her fraught forehead against the red wood of the door.

“Shut up, shut up, shut up,” she muttered – although no one was talking. With another, heavy and deep sigh, she placed the key in the lock and turned.

Cardboard boxes filled the darkened hallway, piled high and packed tightly against the wall. Despite their dominant presence, Olivia strode past them with a stubborn manner towards the warm glow coming from the glass door of the living room. Poking her head round the door, she purposefully avoided taking in the many missing books from the bookcase and the empty space above the fireplace where a painting had once hung. Her mother was spread out on a cream sofa, a glass of wine on the coffee table before her and a book in her hands.

“Oh hey honey, how was Jack?” Kirsty asked, slipping a bookmark into the book and giving Olivia her full attention.

Olivia paused. There was no rational reason why she shouldn’t tell her mother that they’d broken up, but Olivia felt slightly ashamed of herself. What if her mother asked why? She didn’t even have an answer for Jack when he’d pleaded to know what had gone wrong. “He’s good,” she said and this answer satisfied Kirsty who picked her book up again. “Going to bed then?”

“Yeah, knackered,” Olivia replied, turning towards the door to disguise the crimson of her cheeks. “Night.”

“Sweet dreams, remember no one’s here to wake you up in the morning for school tomorrow,” Kirsty said, already absorbed in her book. She was an avid reader and Olivia’s father had told her many times how each time Kirsty had been pregnant, she’d read everything out loud in the hope that her children would like reading too. Olivia wasn’t entirely sure whether this theory was fool-proof but in the case of her and Alex, it had worked.

Olivia truly did feel knackered whilst she dragged herself up the stairs, her limbs heavy and her head pounding. Walking past Alex’s room to her own, she could hear the rhythmic, quiet snores from inside and almost felt comforted. After stubbing her toe on the doorframe into her room, she couldn’t even bear to raise her hand just to switch the light on. Instead she limped to her bed and tugged off her jeans. Crushing them between her hands she threw them, roughly in the direction of the armchair that resided in the corner of the room. She pulled off her hoodie and crawled into bed. Only once she was under the safety of her covers, did it really sink in. No more Jack and Olivia. No more castles in the sand.

*

Olivia woke with a start.

The first thing she became conscious of was the taste in her mouth. Pungent, she’d have to really scrub.

In the daylight, it was clear her room was in that transition between childhood and teen. Whilst the collage of recent photos above her bed and the mess of clothes littered round her room showed she was very much a seventeen-year-old girl, the soft toys hidden above her wardrobe, too embarrassing to have in clear view and too cherished to discard at the local charity shop, and the patchwork quilt thrown over her bed showed she was still holding onto some semblance of childhood.

For a moment Olivia watched as dust danced in the light slipping through the window. Outside, she was conscious that the sky was a bright, clear blue. Very blue considering it was early morning in March…

Olivia’s face fell well with realisation. Hastily, she grabbed her phone from the bedside table and checked the time.

11:34 blinked back at her, bold and beckoning. She frowned. Why hadn’t Jack messaged her to say good morning?

It was then that she became conscious of the third thing – she’d broken up with Jack last night. Her face drained of colour and she groaned, throwing her head back on the pillow. She’d broken up the relationship, but surely they could still be friends.

Apparently not. Olivia crossed to her window, the curtains open as she hadn’t drawn them the night before, and looked out across to Jack’s window. The blinds were shut.

Defeated, Olivia gathered her things and went for a shower. A long, hot shower. That she would be even later for school didn’t faze her any more.

Forty minutes later, she was in front of the mirror putting her tie on. She may be cleaner, and her teeth may have been brushed with unnecessary ferocity, but she still didn’t feel any fresher.

Her shirt was crumpled but the thought of ironing it was almost as formidable as the day ahead. Putting her hair up into a messy ponytail, she considered what might happen. The thought of Jack not talking to her was tearing her apart. They had never fallen out, barely even argued before and now she had ruined everything. She had half a mind to crawl back into bed but that would only delay the inevitable and unavoidable occurrence that would happen. They lived on the same street, attended the same school, rotated around the same circle of friends, they’d see each other at some point.

With a small dollop of concealer and a slick of mascara, she felt equipped for the day. Not well equipped, but it would be enough.

She pulled on her scuffed school shoes and a regulation black cardigan, stuffed her blazer in her bag then made her way out to the bus stop down the road, only just remembering to lock the door behind her.

As Olivia had presumed, Jack’s car was not outside his house. She sped up her pace, not wanting to bump into Julie who would no doubt quiz her.

The 23 bus rumbled by every ten minutes and so she didn’t have long to wait. The bus journey was uneventful, she sat near the back and only a handful of pensioners nattered to each other at the front. The bus rolled up in front of the white, modernistic school building and Olivia slouched off, muttering thanks to the driver.

She glanced at the office clock as she waited for the office ladies to buzz her through. There were only five minutes until lunch. There was almost no point in going to History now so she made her way down to the cantine, slightly cheered that she’d get her lunch before the cantine would be crowded with people.

She grabbed a bagel and a strawberry milkshake and made a beeline for her usual spot just as the bell rang, shrill and loud. Her friend Poppy was the first to join her.

“Livia! Where have you been!” she demanded throwing her bag down on the bench and sidling in beside Olivia. Her hair was a mane of wavy brown and the scattering of light freckles across her nose were particularly enticing today.

“I slept in,” Olivia answered with a beam for her friend. However she felt nervous, nervous at what might come next. She hadn’t even thought of what her friends might say.

“Aw is Jack ill then? He’s not been in either. Figured you two must be together,” Poppy asked in her usual fast way of talking. Olivia liked that in Poppy. Poppy filled every silence without even noticing there ever was one.

Olivia decided to lie. She didn’t understand why, just knew that saying out loud that her and Jack would change things. Change things she wasn’t even sure why she changed. “Yeah, he said he wasn’t feeling great.”

“Aww, tell him I hope he gets better when you see him tonight?” Poppy asked before taking a huge bite out of her sandwich.

Olivia laughed as Poppy struggled to chew, but was saved from replying by the arrival of three other friends.

“Fucking hell, want to kill that bitch!” Ruaridh swung his bag over his shoulders and it landed with a loud thud on the table.

“Hey watch it!” Lottie cried, snatching her hand back from where Ruaridh’s bag had just missed it. She turned to Ruaridh and glared up at him through green, condescending eyes, “You really bring it on yourself you know?”

“Do I fuck!” Ruaridh shouted pulling up the sleeves of his white shirt and revealing his toned forearms. Olivia could remember when Ruaridh had been chubby with a bad haircut and a tendency to swear a lot. Ruaridh had been to the gym, been to the hairdressers but he still swore a lot.

Lottie raised her eyebrows and squeezed in beside Olivia and Mae. Mae was of a petite frame with an ashy blonde hair that bounced with her every movement. Due to her frame, quiet manner and perfectly upswept nose, Mae had been mistake for a few years younger than her actual age when she’d first joined the school last summer.

“So where’s Jack?” Ruaridh asked looking around for his best mate. He looked expectantly at Olivia who made no rush to swallow the mouthful of bagel.

“Ill,” she answered shortly. Thankfully Ruaridh accepted this explanation and only grumbled about how Jack would miss rugby practice after school. A dull cloud of guilt glided over Olivia. She was perfectly aware they’d all find out at some point. She hadn’t really thought of it whilst she was deciding to break up with Jack. To be fair, she hadn’t really been thinking very much at all.

*

The day passed slowly and Olivia barely spoke to a soul. When art came she’d lifted out her final design from her folder and groaned. Not because it was atrocious but because it was of Jack and herself. They were sitting on top of a haybail, Olivia’s tanned legs dangling lazily over Jacks and her forehead pressed against his. The smiles on their faces were genuine and sincere, as warm as the orange glow of the autumn sun that washed over the entire scene. Olivia remembered they’d been laughing when the shutter had closed. Jack had just run a hand through his hair, leaving it ruffled and fluffy. It was a beautiful picture – Kirsty and Julie had both asked for copies and had them framed. It radiated warmth and friendship and even… love. It was true. As Olivia studied the photo she was painting from, she could see that even then, there were completely and irrevocably in love.

That class had dragged on painfully, every brush stroke taking an immense amount of effort. Advanced maths was excruciating and by the time the home bell had rung Olivia was just about ready to crawl back into bed.

Arriving home, Olivia noted another cardboard box had been added to the pile. She was about to run upstairs when her dad called her down.

“Olivia! How was your day?” he said, with yet another box in his arms. This one had a rugby ball poking out the top of it.

“It was ok.”

Her dad grimaced noticing the weariness in Olivia’s voice, “That bad? Know the feeling,” he said and carefully placed the box down on top of another, “Here is this Jack’s or an old one of Alex’s?” he asked picking up the rugby ball and attempting to twirl it on one finger. It balanced precariously for a second before he caught it again.

Olivia shrugged, “Probably Jack’s. Amelia’s been throwing them about so one might have landed in our garden.”

“Yeah that’s where it was. Well give him it back will you?” he asked and chucked it at her. She caught it just by the tips of her fingers and her dad gave out a low, whistle.

“Where’s mum?” Olivia asked, the ball now safely tucked under her arm.

“No idea, probably having yet another coffee with the girls,” her dad couldn’t hide the annoyance in his voice and so Olivia felt it the right time to leave.

She jogged up to her room, two steps at a time and shut the door behind her. With a sigh she dumped her bag next to the desk and sat down. The surface of her desk was not visible beneath the sheets of paper and textbooks and jotters. She had never been particularly organised when it came to school work, yet she still managed to get it all done. She thumbed the ball over from hand-to-hand, all the while thinking. Absent-mindedly she turned towards her window only to find that Jack’s blinds were still shut. She bit her lip, something she tended to do when anxious. She picked up her phone and quickly tapped in a message.

“Are you ok? X”

Part of her didn’t expect and answer so when her mobile buzzed and vibrated only a minute later, she jumped up onto her feet to read it.

“Sorry honey. It’s Julie. Phone broke so Jack’s given me his seeing he’s buying a new one. Jack’s ok, must have had something funny to eat. He’s been sleeping all day Xxxx”

Olivia let her legs buckle as she collapsed onto her bed. It had completely slipped her mind that Jack was buying an iPhone that weekend. That meant there was no way of contacting him for two days unless he showed his face.

Olivia’s eyes widened with realisation and she sprung back off the bed, upsetting its springs. Before Jack and Olivia had phones, they had another way of contacting each other besides their windows. On their birthdays, they still wrote a message this way.

Her door banged against the door as she tore out of the room and the stairs strained as she bounded down them. Her mother who’d just arrived home shrieked when Olivia sprinted past.

“Olivia! No running inside!” Kirsty gasped, clutching her hands to her heart. Olivia ignored her, making her way out the French doors in the livingroom and across the garden porch. She was smiling when she swung open the gate onto the lane and crossed into Jack’s garden, her feet padding across the wet grass. As she knelt down beside the sandpit and lifted the lid of, she didn’t care that the grass soaked through her tights.

With one finger she carefully wrote a message in the sand, making sure the words were engraved clearly and deeply.

“I’m sorry. I hope you’re ok. X”