teapot flowers

Part 1

Olivia Walters, a fresh start

I looked left and right down the busy street, and with one leap I was over a metal railing and running across to the metro entrance ramp. It was late and I had no desire to stay in that neighborhood past dark, as I knew full well how dangerous some of the streets in Brazil are.

My name is Olivia Walters, and I have been in Brazil for a long time now, the anniversary of three years coming up in only a month. In those three short years I moved from city to city, never staying very long but, this...this was a new year, with new possibilities.

One month ago on my 18th birthday, my parents finally decided I was old enough that I could be trusted to take care of my kid brother and a household on my own. My stepfather and mother, Billy and Rebecca Walters , both have great jobs, but their work keeps them moving from apartment to apartment, staying four months here and five there, only living on two small suitcases per person. "Olivia, if it doesn't have a practical use, you don't need it," my mother used to say to me as a kid.

They are a consulting team for large businesses - "evaluate, confront and solve" is their famous phrase, which they even said at home sometimes.

They have always been interested in their job and not much else, not even their two children. If they had been observant at all they would have realized that I was quite capable of taking care of myself and my brother for many years; in fact, I had been taking care of us since they started this job, but hey, if they had paid attention to me, maybe I would not have turned out to be so self-reliant. Most of the time I spent in Brazil was in and around Rio, so I knew it well and I was glad when our parents said that's where they were going to put down the roots of our first home. Although I was thrilled that I wouldn't have to move anymore, that beach house in the classy part of town seemed empty and uselessly big for just Peter and me.

So why was I, the daughter of important financial advisors, in a shady part of town, jumping a railing and racing to the metro in the middle of the night? Well, to make it clear I would have to start this morning in school, where it was the second week of the semester and I was just getting out of our first student council meeting.

The new student body president liked to talk ...a lot, so it ran a bit longer than I expected.

"Olivia~! Alright, now that it's over, are you ready to get your shopping on?" one girl asked, batting her long fake eyelashes. It was hard to believe that just a few days ago this girl hated me and the day before that didn't know I even existed.

"yeah sure." I said with a nervous laugh, "just need to go to the ladies' room real quick." I added, ducking out to avoid further questions.

I would have just gone directly home, but a group of girls asked me to go with them on their shopping excursion and if I don't go I'll be branded as a ditch. That can't happen, I already have gotten quite a bad rep from the time I caught and informed my teacher about some classmates outback betting on a fight.

It seemed to be a big deal between two students. I guess one of them was a class rep and the other a foreigner. I had no idea who the fighters were at the time and it wouldn't have helped much if I had, they were so battered by the end of it, not even their own mothers would have recognized them.

You would have thought I would have known them considering, 1 I am part of the student council and 2 I am literally one of the five foreigners that go to this school.

My lack of interest in who they were probably added insult to injury for the other students. The guys in my classroom hated me for ratting on the fight to the homeroom teacher Mr. Cortez" - just when it was getting good! and I had good money riding on the gringo," they had said, bumping into my shoulder every time they walked by.

Now, the girls in my class were also mad, but for a different reason. In their minds, I single-handedly ruined the hot fest, and worst of all got the two most handsome and popular guys in school detention for a month.

By the time I saw the fight they were both so banged up, it was hard to say whether they were handsome or not, but that didn't matter to the girls.

Then by a stroke of luck, a couple of days later the most popular girl in school stood up for me - "just think if that girl had not called the teacher, their faces might never have recovered, and that would have been a real crime," and with that, I have deemed the hero of my class - at least to the girls.

So when one of the girls on the council invited me to "~like, go shopping~" with the others, I had no option but to say yes.

What could I do? It was one of two ways, either go with the G.G.A's (giggling gossiping airheads) or die in a pot of shame soup, heavily seasoned with alienation... Needless to say, my reputation was hanging on the line.

But that stupid meeting got out so late that by the time they've had their fill of shopping it would be dark. Goodness knows I shouldn't be out that late.

The other girls will probably go home in their fancy cars and I can't even afford an Uber.

I splashed two handfuls of water on my face and looked at my reflection in the mirror; my eyes are a deep clear blue, just like my father, but unfortunately for me, that is the only similar quality I share with him - my tan skin, my short height, my dark thick hair and cold sharp features all come from my mother. I hate mirrors because it always feels like Mother is glaring back at me. My eyes are my one consolation, their round blue color always gave me hope. Another student walking in the door brought me back to the reality of my situation.

Maybe I can slip away from the G.G.As when they aren't looking... I chewed on my bottom lip, deep in thought.

No, sneaking out wouldn't work... then my face brightened with the beginnings of a plan. I said I would go, but I didn't say for how long, and if there happened to be an emergency... but if I called emergency now they might get suspicious, or worse, reschedule. So all I have to do is make myself agreeable for 20 minutes, I'll laugh at all the lame jokes and listen to the latest gossip but not too much, just enough to not be noticed. I will have to buy something or they'll think that I'm poor and pity me, but then when my 20 minutes are up, I'll get Peter to call me saying Grandma passed away and that I should hurry home quickly. I mean, it's technically not a lie; she has been dead since I was fourteen. It's the perfect plan, I won't be under a hot light or be an outcast in darkness.

After working up the courage to leave the bathroom and meet the girls, we were off. I was dragged from store to store, and yes, it was as painful as I thought it would be.

After making a brief, and might I add, practical, purchase of new tennies (my old ones had a hole worn through), I texted Peter and gave him the go-ahead for the call. The plan went off without a hitch and I was out from under their grasp and away from their watchful eyes. They sent me away with a hug and some fake words of encouragement. I even shed a dramatic tear for my enthralled audience, all the while trying not to burst into laughter. As soon as I got out of the mall I rushed to catch the metro, which was a few blocks down. Finally, I reached the metal rail, stopping for a second to catch my breath; then I looked left and right at the passing cars. In the distance, I could see the train cars coming down the track.

Missing the metro was anything but ideal. So I hopped over the fence and was off, across the street and up the stairs with not a minute to lose, I swiped my metro-card in the machine and headed to Platform B. Racing against time, I wove my way through the crowd, but just when I thought I was home free I ran into someone head-on. I could hear the metro cars stop and open the doors for all the people to get on. I hurriedly apologized in Portuguese (the language of Brazil) and headed for the doors, which I feared would close at any moment. "Hold it!" the stranger's voice called out as he got a hold of my wrist, bringing me to a sudden stop.

I couldn't move, not an inch. 

end of part 1

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