The Best Thing He Ever Wrote

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven

“I can't come to school with you today.” Olivia had said in the phone message she'd left me, “Hannah's mum's down for some reason, she want to drive us to school. I don't really know why.” It's at that point that I hear her voice falls soft, “Can you pick me up this afternoon? Ah, can you call me back and let me know later? Ok, well see you.”

I'd heard the phone ring, I'd seen Olivia's name flash upon my screen, but I couldn't answer it. If I did I wasn't too sure as to what would come out of my mouth, if anything at all. I just can't bring to terms that my fourteen year old sister has anorexia. Actually, come to think of it, I can't believe that anything has come around the way that it has. It's like I'm living my life in a mirror, everything is the opposite of what it's supposed to be.

I should call Olivia back like a do all the time, I should pick up my silver Nokia, put in her number and tell her I'll be there at four. That she'll have to wait around half an hour because my shift ends a little later today. But if I talk to her, if I talk to anyone, even a stranger, I think I just might be sick. Which is absolutely no good since I'm at work and I doubt that anyone wants to be showered in vomit.

It's already two and if my phone is right then I've been putting the call off for about five hours. I need to tell Olivia, I need her to know that I want to pick her up, but I can't manage to grab that stupid phone. Instead I send her a message telling her that I'll be there at four and she'll have to wait around. I should write something else like an x or something, but I can't do that either. I can't really do anything logical today. Part of me wants to go and talk to Sydney, but I know that he won’t answer back, so the other part tells me not to bother.

I put the last of the price stickers on the bags of rice, I wonder if Percy knows that they're going to be past their use by date by next Tuesday. Then again this is a corner store and a lot of the time things are either past their expiry date or just about there. I've never really taken notice of the dates in this shop, and I don't really care about it whichever way they go either. I hear my phone buzz and I put the price stickers down and head to the counter, I have to wait a while to read the message because a couple of young tourists, by the look of them, walk in. I'm bewildered as to why on earth they'd come to Havenstone during their holiday. I bet it was a letdown, a real shame. They must be backpackers by the look of all their baggage and their dirty bodies; I wonder what it's like to go backpacking. I wouldn't mind doing it one day except that I'll probably actually never do it. It's kind of like one of those things you do with your friends after you graduate school. Three things destroy that idea like a balloon and a pin: Sydney is dead, Johnny and I don't talk and I will never graduate year twelve.

I serve the four tourists, making brief and painful chit-chat about Havenstone. I don't vomit on them and well that gives me the tiniest bubble of strength. They make me wonder how, when you live in such a small town, things can possibly go bad. Once they've left and spent a good amount of money in which I can't help but think that they mustn't be from around here because they could have halved the cost by going down the road to the actual supermarket, I pick up my phone.

That's ok, I'll wait around. I think I should read up on my English novel anyway. I really miss you and I need to talk to you.

I read the message over again, she misses me, she needs to talk to me. What does that mean? It takes me a good moment to decide that she means what she'd written: she misses me and needs to talk. I notice that she doesn't make any grammar or spelling mistakes in her message, a thing that most people do to make texts short.

I write back: I miss you too and I need to talk to you as well.

And then I can't wait for my shift to be over.