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

Chapter Twelve: [Olive]

Monday morning, I get ready and grab my painting, going out to the kitchen. In fear of it getting ruined in the middle of my parents dancing around each other in the kitchen, I set the meadow painting on the counter and go to the fridge.

It's getting closer to being finished. I should be able to have it done by the end of the week, even, so it can be ready the next time Levee and I see each other.

My mom sits at the counter with a cup of coffee while my dad starts making breakfast for the two. I sit across from her with a cup of milk.

"You haven't been eating much lately," my mom notices, pursing her lips.

"I just haven't been hungry." I shrug. "I'm eating at school."

"You should really have some breakfast," she insists. "I'll get you-"

As she stands, her elbow knocks against the coffee mug. I jump up as it tips over, spilling coffee all over the counter, all over my painting.

My eyes widen and a strangled cry rips from my throat. My dad rushes over to us with paper towels as I grab the painting, hopelessly trying to get the coffee out.

"God, Olive, I'm so sorry." My mom looks and sounds genuine, but I barely notice it. "Is it ruined? I didn't mean to. Are you okay?"

"I'm going to have to start over!" I cry. I squeeze my eyes shut as they water, taking in a shuddering breath. My voice cracks as I ask, "Why would you do that?"

"She didn't mean to," Dad reminds gently. "You can always make it again."

"It's not the end of the world," Mom agrees while they mop the coffee off the counter. "Now go to school, before you miss the bus. Leave that here, I'll throw it out for you."

"Do you even get it?" I try to swallow my frustrating and choke on it instead. "This took me forever! Do you get how hard this was? Stop acting like it's not a big deal!"

"Olive." She sighs. "It isn't a big deal. Okay? Stop being so dramatic. Go to school."

It's physically painful to listen to her say that, so much so that I throw the painting to the ground and storm out of the house. I slam the door shut behind myself so hard the entire house quakes, and I'm still not any calmer.

The defeat sets in when I take a seat on the bus. I have to start over. In a way, she's right- It's not the end of the world. But who knows how many details I'll lose by starting over? How blurry will the image be? How inaccurate will the memory be?

I suddenly regret being so dramatic. Instead of throwing the painting down, I should have put it in my room, asked my parents not to touch it. Then, at least, I could have salvaged some of the details I will now forget.

Maybe it would be easier to just forget it all together. The painting, the meadow, the houses.

Art.

I remember how much happier I got after I discovered the meadow. No, not happier- More like carefree. Outgoing. Micah and my parents noticed it, too. The meadow was my stress relief, my way of getting out all of my anger and sadness. I could sit there and think for as long as I wanted. I could bring a notebook and sketch. The first purple carnation was born in that meadow.

What's going to happen now that it's gone? Will I go back to how I was before? Will I become depressed, quiet? Will I shut Micah out again? Will I stop eating? Will the scars on my legs ever discontinue?

I doubt it.

-_-_-

I skip again. Not just class- School all together. I end up at the meadow, unsurprisingly. The construction workers aren't there and it looks like they're nearly done with the small neighborhood they're building. Complete with paved roads and flower boxes on every doorstep, it looks like a girl trying too hard to be pretty.