The Dead Boy's Guide To Second Chances

12. the art of letting go

THREE MONTHS AND FOUR DAYS AFTER THE DEATH OF OLIVER SALLOW

"It's just Finn," Oliver whispers to his reflection. "It's just Finn."

It's a mantra he's been repeating to himself for days now, trying to steel himself for the moment when his phone will buzz again. It could be any second. It could be in a few months. Either way, he spends more time than strictly necessary in front of the mirror in the hallway whenever he passes it.

Not like it really matters. His looks haven't changed. Same gangly limbs. Same shitty dye job. Same black pants and dark lace blouse he wore the day he died, half-hidden under his long leather trench coat. The only real change is in his accessories; a few less rings, a few new piercings in his ears, a brooch near his collarbone that wasn't there before.

It's become a bit of a routine between him and Nova. With not much else to do and a troubling lack of options outfit-wise, they've resorted to trading jewellery. It's one of the few things that makes the itch beneath his skin stop, even if just for a few minutes.

As if summoned by his thoughts, Nova saunters around the corner just then, a grin on her face when she spots him. "Admiring yourself, Narcissus?"

Throwing her an unimpressed glance in the mirror, Oliver brushes his hair behind his ears. "What do you want?"

"Nothing from you, don't worry." She points at the door at the other end of the corridor. Muffled, Oliver can hear the sound of chatter from the common room. "Some of us are playing cards. Want to join?"

Oliver opens his mouth, a No, thanks already on the tip of his tongue, but reconsiders a split second before it can escape. "Sure," he says instead.

While the prospect of spending an evening playing Scabby Queen with the other In-Betweeners isn't exactly thrilling, even he can admit that it's better than sitting alone in his bedroom waiting for Finn to call.

To her credit, Nova doesn't tease him, only nods and gestures for him to follow her.

An hour before sun-down, the common room is packed. In-Betweeners are scattered across the worn couches and around the dining table by the tall windows overlooking the cliffs, or what's visible of them in the gloom. Classical music is playing softly from the record player in one corner, layering over the distant crashing of waves.

Nova heads right for the small group huddled around the fireplace at the back of the room. Oliver recognizes a few faces he's met in the halls, though he hasn't exchanged more than three words with most of them. Part of it might be because there are people who are jealous he got assigned to someone he knows. Part of it might also just be because Oliver hasn't tried very hard to make friends.

The one person who looks genuinely delighted to see him is Dana. "Oliver!" she says, patting the scratched-up wood next to where she's sitting. "Come sit. We're just about to start a new round."

Oliver reluctantly sinks down next to her, folding his long legs and accepting the cards someone hands him. They're flimsy things made of printer paper that one of the other In-Betweeners DIY-ed. A true testament to the entertainment they get here in Dover.

As the game begins, Dana leans closer to him and asks: "How's your first case going?"

Oliver keeps his gaze trained on his deck. "If I don't go to supervision, you bring supervision to me? Is that what's happening here?"

"No." Even without looking at her, Oliver knows she's rolling her eyes. "This is me asking you as a friend."

Oliver's quiet snort gets drowned out in the clamour around him. This close to the fire, he feels hot and itchy under his layers. "Right."