The Kids Aren't Alright [Slash] [BoyxBoy]

Chapter Four: [Olive]

I stare at the piece of paper on my desk in frustration.

I was hoping to get some of the drawing done before school today, but it doesn't seem like that's going to happen. I'm barely into the rough sketch and there's a huge chunk of the meadow I've completely blanked on. Not to mention, I still can't remember which side the pond was on.

My mom calls up the stairs for me to get out of bed and get ready for school, even though I get up at six am every day and have been for the past two years, so I put the drawing in my binder and shove it in my backpack, scrambling down the stairs.

My mother looks at me in surprise. "That was fast."

I run my hand through my hair. My mother tsks and shakes her head, coming over to me and brushing my hair down with her fingers.

Even though my hair is much shorter than hers, I got the same coarse, curly, dark brown hair as my mom.

She looks at me for a moment. "Handsome," she says, before nudging me towards the door. "Go to school."

I walk to the bus stop, sitting in one of the back rows. The bus is always freezing cold for no reason, the seats worn and cracked, and the windows stained. The kids are all loud and obnoxious, climbing all over the seats like children in a waiting room. I usually just try to keep my head down until we get to the school.

When my phone buzzes, I pull it out of my backpack, expecting it to be Micah. Instead, Levee flashes across the screen, my heart clenching. I quickly reply.

Levee: Hey

Olive: Good morning

Levee: Are you at school yet?

I lean my head back and close my eyes, smiling. It's such a normal conversation, as if we're classmates and just texting to pass the time.

Olive: I'm on the bus. Are you?

Levee: I don't have to be for another hour.

Olive: You disappeared yesterday.

Levee: Yeah, I meant to text you back but I had to help a friend with something. Sorry.

Olive: That's okay. What were you helping them with?

Levee: Science

Olive: I've never understood science.

Levee: I hear that a lot. I don't know, it's always made sense to me. I like science a lot.

Levee: Listen, I've been meaning to talk to you about something.

My heart embeds itself in my stomach like a frightened child hiding under the bed. I almost don't want them to respond. I self consciously bring my legs up to my chest, resting my chin on my knees.

Olive: What is it?

Levee: I saw your leg. Okay, well, I saw my leg. I saw it on my leg.

I almost laugh. They're so, so awkward. Still, my anxiety rules over my amusement.

Olive: Saw what?

Levee: Stop.

Levee: You shouldn't do that.

Olive: What am I supposed to do instead?

Levee: I don't know. Draw more flowers or something. But don't do that. It's not right.

I look from the faded daisies around my wrist to my leg. I'm wearing jeans that are just a little too big on me.