Losing Oliver

Chapter 2

(Shown in picture
Lucy: Young Sarah Roemer)

School was seemingly quiet and absolutely lonely. There were few people at Riverside High who I would considered friends. Those that I hardly even talked to have given me condolences everyday since he was buried a week ago. Some of them didn't even know Oliver. That's one of the things I hated about living in a small town like Riverside, Minnesota. Everybody knew about everything that happened within a 10 mile radius. People kept reminding me that Oliver was gone, and I just wanted to scream.

The bell rang for lunch, making me sigh in relief. I had to get away. Even on the way to my locker, multiple of my peers stopped to give sympathies and made me want to bawl. Why can't they stop reminding me? All I want is to forget.

"Hey, Lucy." A girl came up to me, and I recognized her as Eva, the head cheerleader. She wasn't mean like the stereotypical cheerleader. On the contrary, she was one of the nicest girls in school. "I'm so sorry for your loss. Oliver was a great guy."

Her face wore a look of complete pity, but I didn't want that from her. I didn't want that from anyone.

That's what caused me to explode. I just wanted to be left alone, to be ignorant of my grief for at least a few seconds.

"Can people stop reminding me he's dead? You don't understand how much I just want to forget it ever happened. It hurts me every time someone says his name. I wish my best friend was by my side but your shïtty half-ăssed condolences won't fůckïng help him magically rise up from the dead, now will they? All I want is to forget!" My shrieks could be heard down the hall, and the whole population of students turned toward me in shock. I could feel the heat rise to my cheeks as my hands shook with both anger and anxiety.

Eva was stunned, until she managed to shake it off and mumble a small apology before scurrying off.

Throwing my books into my locker, I grabbed my lunch bag and shoved my locker shut before heading toward the exit door. I wasn't sure where I was going, but something led me toward the back of the school. A sigh left my lips for the fiftieth time today as I counted to ten as I sat down.

1... 2... 3... 4...
You've got this, Luce. Just breathe.

I recalled what Oliver said to me the first time I had a panic attack.

*

The crashing of plates and screaming filled the house. When my parents fought, they would shriek at each other repeatedly, each trying to outdo the other. They kept getting louder and louder until I couldn't even hear myself think.
I wanted to scream, "STOP, STOP!" But I knew it would be useless.
That's when my bedroom window opened. The 12 year-old Oliver stepped in and looked at me with worry. "Lucy.." He said it so softly and carefully, and that's all I needed to break.
His arms instantly wrapped around me, comforting me as I sobbed uncontrollably.
He took my hand and sat down with me on the bed. Panic still flooded my system, he could only do so much.
"Count slowly, it'll calm you down. 1... 2...3...4..."

*

5...6...7...

"Lucy?" Someone said my name and I looked up to see Lucas Randall, Emmy's brother and Oliver's best friend. I vaguely remembered seeing his face, depleted and grief-stricken, in the crowd at Oliver's funeral.

"Luke...?" We've talked but never by ourselves. A group of boys snickered, and that's when I realized we weren't alone. A group of teenage boys stood in the corner, laughing at me and making pouty faces. What jerks.

Smoke rose from the cigarette in between Lucas's fingers.

"Are you okay?" He asked, concern clear in his voice. His eyes trailed over me, taking in my disheveled appearance.

"Hey Lucas, you should invite your little friend to join us!" The voice of Declan Pierce called to the teenage boy in front of me. I hadn't known Lucas had hung out with this group of.. misfits, if we were using polite terms. He seemed far too nice for that.

Declan Pierce was the notorious bad boy of the school and the leader of the pack. His carefree demeanor attracted all of the mindless bimbos at our school to pine after him. He apparently thought he was too good for them, considering he never gave them the time of day.

"...Yeah, I'm fine." I said to Lucas after ignoring the jerk's comment.

"C'mon, they're not that bad. I know you could use a little cool off, too." I raised an eyebrow at him when he spoke. "I've been trying to avoid those sympathetic on-lookers in the halls all day."

When I thought about it, I did need a little time to forget all those stupid people inside of that school, but I doubted Declan would allow me to have a moment of peace.

Lucas noticed me warily studying Declan and placed a hand on my back as we walked toward the group. "Don't worry, I'll make sure he doesn't bother you."

I smiled for the first time today, "Thanks."

He knew how I felt, and it made me finally calm down after being wound up all morning.

Most people called me uptight or bipolar, but very few people understood what I've gone through my whole life, but that's another story for another time.

"Hey guys, this is Lucy. Be nice, she's had a bad day." He instructed his group before stealing a glimpse toward me. His lips formed a smirk but not the cocky kind. It was one that was relaxed and just a bit confident.

"Oh, we'll be real nice." One of Declan's cronies commented crudely. His eyes were already scoping out my chest. Pig. He was another one of the jocks, according to his swim team jacket with Wyatt stitched into the side.

"Down, boy." I crossed my arms over my chest with a small chuckle.

"Ha! I like this chick already. Can we keep her?" Another one boisterously laughed and looked toward Declan.

"She's not a pet, Zeke." Declan rolled his eyes and brought up his cigarette to his mouth, inhaling the smoke. He blew it right into my face which made me cough.

Every single one of the four guys there had tattoos and a cigarette in their hand.

"Ah, a newbie to corrupt. Want one, sweetheart?" The same guy, Zeke, asked me.

A pack of cigarettes were displayed in his hand, open to reveal them. I had seen these ones before, at my house on my dad's bedside table.

"No." I said simply and bit my lip.

"Suit yourself." He said then put out his then took another. Wyatt tossed him a lighter from his jacket pocket.

I had never hung out with such a strange group of people, but somehow, it felt good to get away. Not once did anybody mention Oliver and I felt like a weight was lifted off of my shoulders. I felt.. relieved.

~