I'm So Sorry

Chapter Six

Olivia

I rub my right temple, trying to avoid rolling my eyes for probably the tenth time tonight. 

"No, I told you that I have to leave early for band camp," I repeat myself. Jackson is a sweetheart, my best friend for sure. But he loves to pester me about the little things. 

"Why though?"

"Because. That's how it works at my school. I'm moving in a week and a half before everyone else, and my roommate doesn't want me to unpack like, anything of mine because she wants to decorate the room with me. Except I don't have that kind of time. She's being a stubborn bitch."

"So you're gonna just decorate it without her?" Jackson's smile is sly.

"Oh of course. Fuck her."

"Can you ever not curse, Olivia? I mean I get it we're in high school, we can do that sort of shit. But you curse non-stop," Mason comments.

I stick up my middle finger at him and his stupid-ass girlfriend. "Says the guy who doesn't understand that the PDA we witness every day is motherfucking disgusting. Get a room, like, for real." They give me a look that seems to be a mix of confusion and frustration. I sit back with my drink in my hand and say, "Punch that v-card in for God's sake. Y'all reek of virginity."

Everyone begins complaining all at once. "Jesus Christ, Olivia!" Sandra shouts. "Shut up!"

"Seriously, shut the fuck up, quit being such a fucking bitch," Randy mutters from his seat.

"Says the druggie sitting across from me. Look who is calling the kettle black now."

I roll my eyes as people continue to complain, but I ignore them completely. 

I sometimes wish I'd never told Shannon we should invite more people to hang out with us. No, sometimes I wish I had never met Shannon. Or any of these people. Except Jackson.

Shannon and I met in elementary school and we were the beginners of this group, whatever we are. She and I got along really well actually, we had the same teachers every year and a lot in common. We both joined the color guard intramural in middle school and fell in love with it. 

And from there, shit hit the fan and got horrible. 

As more people joined our friend group, people outside guard - basically everyone but Shannon, Makayla and myself - wouldn't understand our schedules in high school were fucking packed. Practice every day but Wednesday's, having competition's nearly every weekend, little time to do homework and have a social life, and little time to be a good person.

I have a mom and an older sister. That's it. I'm used to bitchy, alcoholic mom being rude and nasty and my sister, being the slut she is, coming home every weekend with a new boyfriend each time. Pretty sure the longest relationship she's ever had is with her cellphone. 

Being around that my entire life turned me into what most people don't like to be around. I'm this way because I only ever learned this way. Shannon likes to always tell me that I'm being rude to people, but telling the truth isn't rude. My mother always tells me exactly what she thinks about something, and I always hear her. 

But lately, since college has started approaching, I've begun to seriously look at what I have to show for myself. Soon I'll have a high school diploma, and a certificate from my guard instructor proving my dedication to the guard for the last four years. Shannon's getting it too. Same with Makayla. Except Shannon? Doesn't deserve it. But they still want to recognize her. 

I'm the captain. I shouldn't have to do jack shit for that bitch.

"Alright here's all the shit," Ben arrives, dropping all of the s'mores essentials in front of us. Have at it, weirdos."

"Good for you, you can carry shit," I scoff heavily.

This makes Ben completely snap, and he turns to me, seemingly boiling with anger. "Olivia? Shut the fuck up, a'ight? I don't wanna hear it, and I'm sick of you always talking to everyone like you own them. You don't own any of us. You're the captain of the guard, and that's it! You're literally nothing, so can you just stop putting us all down for your own sick pleasure?" 

I don't say anything at all to him, and just stare.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome, Mom, thanks for the great advice."

"I fucking give up with you. You're just a fucking miserable bitch, and that's all you'll ever be. You just love tearing us down for your own amusement, and I'm sick and tired of it."

"Go to hell," I spit at him.

"Well, you're here, I must be there already."

"Alright, stop, both of you," Jackson intervenes. "Olivia, you're a bitch. Ben, you're an ass. That's established, can we move the fuck on with our lives?"

"As soon as everyone starts minding their own business I'll gladly move on," I spit.

Jackson rolls his eyes. "God you're such a bitch."

"No kidding."

No one says anything and I smile slyly. Looks like I get the last word once again. 

I look around the circle and except for Shannon, Jessie is the only person missing. Where is she? Last I saw her she was having a spaz attack when I asked her to pass the soda. Her step-brother is here, so where is she?

Before I have a chance to say anything, Sandra asks, "Hey, Ben, where's your sister?"

"Bathroom," he mutters.

"Is she okay?" Mason asks. "I haven't seen her since I got here."

"She's fine," Ben grits his teeth.

Usually this is the time I'd say something rude and snotty, but I don't. Because as soon as he says that,  all I can think of is the large bruise on Jessie's face. 

Did Ben do that to her? Would he be that kind of brother, the abusive kind? As far as I know since we all became "Friends", Ben has never been the kind of person to seem violent. None of us actually do--minus me with my mouth. The difference is I know what I am, and I don't care.

Huh. Looks like I have a question to ask Ben now in truth or dare.

I smile wider.

Randy

In my life I've been lied to by every single person I've ever met. What may not seem like a big deal cuts down the core of who I am. To know this many people, my family, my classmates, my best friends, all of them toying with secrets and lies in front of me, it reminds me why I prefer to be alone. Why I make it my mission to learn everyone else's secrets. To have them know how it felt. 

To have them suffer the way they made me suffer.

And what no one here in this circle knows, is that what they think are secrets, aren't.

Because I know it all.

The question is, how much are they willing to spill, and how much am I going to have to share for them?

Maybe I'll start with Jessie's rape.