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Authors: Madeleine Roux
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him away. Forced him away. Wet through and freezing, Oliver couldnât feel any of it. His throat felt raw, and when they sat him down in the back of an open ambulance, dry, brown blanket draped over his shoulders, he couldnât even grasp the edges of the fabric with his trembling fingers.
âHow did you know to come here?â an officer was asking, gently. They were all perfectly nice to him now that he had stopped shrieking.
Oliver didnât answer. What did it matter? He couldnât save his dad, and the reasons why seemed pointless to consider. He shifted, his sneaker scraping the pavement. That damn gluey bullshit was still stuck to his foot. Suddenly it was the only thing worthy of his attention. How dare it. How dare it annoy him right then? How dare anyone touch him or look at him or ask him anything at all?
He bent down and blindly groped at the bottom of his shoe, tearing away the plasticky strip with a ferocious tear of his fist.He almost tossed it away, but the dark green color snagged on a memory. Unrolling the wad of torn plastic, Oliver stared down at the sticker. A bumper sticker.
He couldnât breathe again, and the cold and the rain and the officer touching his shoulder felt a million miles away.
PROUD PARENT OF AN HONOR ROLL STUDENT
His phone buzzed in his pocket, the one item he hadnât handed over to the police for safekeeping. The officer sighed and wandered away, giving up on Oliver and his dazed silence. When she was gone, Oliver retrieved his phone, realizing he should call Sabrina, call Micah, call anyone at all who could make sense of this for him.
He had deleted her number, but he recognized the odd area code. Briony.
Come back to work for us, Oliver. Your debt is not repaid.
S abrina had fallen asleep hours ago. For her sake, Oliver let her think he had done the same. Small comforts, sheâd said. That was what had helped her after Diane died. A warm mug of tea. A hot shower. A familiar bed. Home. Friends. He had let her do all those things for her, culminating in the two of them cuddled up watching The Princess Bride on repeat until they both fell asleep.
Well, she fell asleep. Oliver stared at the muted film, the actors mouthing lines he knew by heart.
You killed my father. Prepare to die.
At least the tears had stopped. Oliver hadnât realized a person could just keep crying and crying with no sound or anything else coming out, just relentless tears that triggered at the smallest, stupidest thing. They almost triggered again when he picked his half-dead phone up and shrugged out of the blanket covering him and Sabrina. She snored lightly while he dialed Micah again. His entire call log for the past three hours was filled with that one number.
Where the hell was that kid? Why now, of all times, did he decide to disappear? Micah had ditched out on the Bone Artists and Briony just as much as Oliver had, and now Oliver believed with every sinew in his body that his friend had been run off theroad intentionally, just like his dad.
He almost yelped in shock when the other end livened up and Micahâs face greeted him groggily.
âMicah? Jesus Christ, dude, Iâve been trying to get in touch with you all night!â
âWhat? What is . . . Is everything all right?â He sounded more awake at least.
âItâs my dad.â That was it. That was all he could manage. The tears started again and Oliver smothered them in the neck of his tee, trying not to wake Sabrina. âHis truck. The Causeway. Itâs just like . . . just like you said it happened to you.â
Micah breathed heavily on the other end. âCan we meet somewhere to talk about this, man?â
âWhat? No . No, itâs . . . I canât think about driving anywhere. Iâm with Sabrina.â He squeezed his eyes shut, pulling off the blankets, suddenly much too warm. Pinpricks crawled over his forearms. âI got a message from Briony,â he hissed.
âHow did you know to come here?â an officer was asking, gently. They were all perfectly nice to him now that he had stopped shrieking.
Oliver didnât answer. What did it matter? He couldnât save his dad, and the reasons why seemed pointless to consider. He shifted, his sneaker scraping the pavement. That damn gluey bullshit was still stuck to his foot. Suddenly it was the only thing worthy of his attention. How dare it. How dare it annoy him right then? How dare anyone touch him or look at him or ask him anything at all?
He bent down and blindly groped at the bottom of his shoe, tearing away the plasticky strip with a ferocious tear of his fist.He almost tossed it away, but the dark green color snagged on a memory. Unrolling the wad of torn plastic, Oliver stared down at the sticker. A bumper sticker.
He couldnât breathe again, and the cold and the rain and the officer touching his shoulder felt a million miles away.
PROUD PARENT OF AN HONOR ROLL STUDENT
His phone buzzed in his pocket, the one item he hadnât handed over to the police for safekeeping. The officer sighed and wandered away, giving up on Oliver and his dazed silence. When she was gone, Oliver retrieved his phone, realizing he should call Sabrina, call Micah, call anyone at all who could make sense of this for him.
He had deleted her number, but he recognized the odd area code. Briony.
Come back to work for us, Oliver. Your debt is not repaid.
S abrina had fallen asleep hours ago. For her sake, Oliver let her think he had done the same. Small comforts, sheâd said. That was what had helped her after Diane died. A warm mug of tea. A hot shower. A familiar bed. Home. Friends. He had let her do all those things for her, culminating in the two of them cuddled up watching The Princess Bride on repeat until they both fell asleep.
Well, she fell asleep. Oliver stared at the muted film, the actors mouthing lines he knew by heart.
You killed my father. Prepare to die.
At least the tears had stopped. Oliver hadnât realized a person could just keep crying and crying with no sound or anything else coming out, just relentless tears that triggered at the smallest, stupidest thing. They almost triggered again when he picked his half-dead phone up and shrugged out of the blanket covering him and Sabrina. She snored lightly while he dialed Micah again. His entire call log for the past three hours was filled with that one number.
Where the hell was that kid? Why now, of all times, did he decide to disappear? Micah had ditched out on the Bone Artists and Briony just as much as Oliver had, and now Oliver believed with every sinew in his body that his friend had been run off theroad intentionally, just like his dad.
He almost yelped in shock when the other end livened up and Micahâs face greeted him groggily.
âMicah? Jesus Christ, dude, Iâve been trying to get in touch with you all night!â
âWhat? What is . . . Is everything all right?â He sounded more awake at least.
âItâs my dad.â That was it. That was all he could manage. The tears started again and Oliver smothered them in the neck of his tee, trying not to wake Sabrina. âHis truck. The Causeway. Itâs just like . . . just like you said it happened to you.â
Micah breathed heavily on the other end. âCan we meet somewhere to talk about this, man?â
âWhat? No . No, itâs . . . I canât think about driving anywhere. Iâm with Sabrina.â He squeezed his eyes shut, pulling off the blankets, suddenly much too warm. Pinpricks crawled over his forearms. âI got a message from Briony,â he hissed.
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