The Best Thing He Ever Wrote

Chapter Six

Chapter Six

I don't know where I'm driving, just away from the school. I almost forgot that Olivia is sitting right next to me and I know I should console her, do something to make her feel better. But I can't, can't, get my head around anything at this point in time. It's like a bad dream because none of this should be happening. Sydney shouldn't be dead, my mother should be talking to me, Cindy should be happy again and Olivia? She shouldn't be getting bullied, especially not from one of my best friends.

I keep repeatedly keep asking myself “What's wrong? What's gone wrong?” and I repeat it so many times that I wonder if I might be developing OCD. It's the only thing that's really been inside my head lately. I shake my head as though shaking out everything that's just happened. I reach over and grab Olivia's forearm, giving it a gentle squeeze. The roads almost empty and the fogs lifted and is almost out of sight. I pull over by the side of the road and rest my head back on the seat. I can feel eyes on me, whether they be Olivia's or the people who occasionally drive past. When I open my eyes, I decide to feel better. Because inside nothing is actually feeling better.

The first thing I think about is asking if she's ok. But I change my mind quickly on that subject only because I know that she's not. It's like asking a man who just broke his leg if he's feeling ok.

It's like when people asked me if I was ok when Sydney died.

No, I was not.

I am not.

I start with, “Well,” and then I let go off Olivia's arm because I'd forgotten that I'd been holding it, “What's the plan? What are we going to do today? We have six hours until I have to drop you home.”

She seems stunned by my choice of words and rubs at her face as though tears are still there, “I don't know.” She says sadly, “I can't do anything like this.” She grabs at her school jumper between her thumb and forefinger.

 I think she's going to cry again so I quickly say, “Take it off.”

And she does.

Egg has leaked through and is on her school t-shirt and long-sleeve as well. I feel even worse because I can't help but wonder how many eggs were thrown at her because it looks like it had to have been at least a dozen. I feel like it's my entire fault. I swallow down my anger, “And those too.”

She folds up the bottom of her school top and sleeved one, lifting them both over her head at the same time. Her singlet begins to lift and I can see her ribs and belly button, but she pulls her singlet down once they're off.

Her hair is teased now and her face has turned from grey to red. I wonder if it's because of the heat in the car or if it's because she just got partially undressed in front of me. She then runs her hands over hair; undoing the hair tie and doing it back up again. Her eyes don't leave mine and I have to look away because I feel so bad.

“Ok.” I say to myself and unzip my jumper. I look over briefly at Olivia who has little goose-bumps rising one by one on her arms. I hand her my jumper, “Put this on.”

Olivia shakes her head reluctantly, “You'll get cold.” She says.

“I have a t-shirt on. I'll be fine.”

“I have a singlet on.”

I lower my eyebrows, “Common' I don't have germs.”

She smiles and slips the jumper on, doing up the zip. It's too big and she has to roll the sleeves up at least twice.

I think about what we could do for six hours and when nothing comes to mind I think of what I might do with Cindy or my mother and then some of the other girls I've been with and wonder what I'd do with them for that amount of time.. Olivia though, she isn't like anyone else I've ever met. I want to do things better for her.