Miles Hollingsworth, a grade 12 bisexual, billionaire, "bad boy " more than the boyfriend of the girl in the accident.
Olivia Pomegray, a grade 11 hopeless romantic, rich, "good girl", now with even more trauma than before.
The third series of Degr...
For about 5 days after the crash, I went to Olivia's house, sat on her bed and cried. I couldn't be in my room. After I eventually returned home from the hospital that day, I saw all my date outfits naively laid out on the bed and tossed them, as well as half my desk, against the wall. I ended up smashing half of my trophies, bashing and yelling. "Wake up, wake up!" I screamed until my voice was hoarse. I laid in the destruction, I wish I could say it helped.
Olivia's room was much nicer, it smelt like her perfume and her room was exactly how she'd left it. I don't think I'd ever felt more empty. Mr Pomegray would come to join me most days talking to me about what the doctors had said, like that there was no serious damage to her brain just blood loss and bruises but the MRI scan would tell us more. He'd then get onto Olivia when she was little. Hearing about her innocence warmed me slightly inside so I'd read him a poem from a book I liked. It would be continued with a depressing silence and then he'd suggest visiting the hospital but I'd deny and he'd go without me. He looked sad when I said no like he needed me. He looked rough in general, James had been trying out his councillor more to keep him stable as it was still a dark period for all of us.
If he didn't have Emily, I don't even know what state he'd be in. They had announced they were together just a week after the accident. I think it was allowed, we all needed to find comfort wherever we could in times like this. It made sense because she had been round there every day staying overnight just in case something happened at the hospital. I didn't have my person as comfort, that's why I wouldn't join him, I couldn't see her unless it was really her, not some unrecognisable, scraped and bruised, non-responsive patient. This wasn't me giving up on her, I longed to be with her more than anything, it was my way of dealing with missing her. But I needed the her I knew.
I also tried occupying my mind with basketball and tried to write short stories, but they all ended with some sort of tragedy. One night I had read the entirety of Romeo and Juliet just to keep distracted. In all of this my mum had been the most concerned, she was the one who had cleaned my room after I had left it in such a way and she almost came in to talk to me when she saw my bedside light still on at 3 am but I guess she didn't really know what to say to me, so she'd left me be.
On the day of Olivia's MRI, the test to see exactly how much damage the crash had done to her brain, I opted to help Zoe and Winston out with their car wash to raise money for Syrian refugees.
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The plan was to raise enough money to help them take refuge at school and some local hostels. Zoe kept tiptoeing around me like she thought I couldn't tell. I pretended not to notice and scrubbed car after car, focussing on nothing else. I scoured the dirt away like any thoughts that could lead to the worst. I probably raised a third of the overall cash total alone. I didn't even see any of the girls Winston claimed to be looking at me as I took off my soap and sweat covered top to carry on the work. How could I pay attention to anything else, anyone else?
