BEN
I missed her calls. I missed her mother’s calls, even her brother’s. They must think I’m an asshole. But I’ll rather be called that than given an ultimatum.
Olivia pinches me. I fake a groan and she chuckles. She is much better but I am still a bit overprotective.
We stop in front of art class, I spare a glance at the empty hallway as if expecting someone to show up. Gracie should be in school today but I haven’t seen her. Not that I was looking. It will be hard to miss her if she was present. She has been the topic for a while. Olivia stares at me for a second, then enters.
“Why do you look so sad?” Olivia says once she is seated. I shrug in reply. I am not sad. I am just there. She drags a stool closer for me to sit while she sets her painting tools on the table. “You look like your puppy died.”
“I don’t have a puppy.” I don’t like animals.
“Just call her already.” I slide my phone back into my back pocket. I will do no such thing. It wouldn’t matter if I picked her over Olivia, she will always question herself. The issue is with her and her low-self esteem, not me or my relationship with Olivia. “Ben, please call her.” And why does Olivia even care? “You should really just call her. Please.”
Olivia is beginning to annoy me. As soon as the investigations are over, I’ll be taking a break from this friendship. From girls in general. They are exhausting. Boys don’t think too much about these unnecessary things or put as much thought into it. I settle down beside Olivia when she brings out a new canvas.
“Who do you think did it?” Olivia asks when I don’t provide an answer to her former questions. The video might be down but the murmurs have not stopped. I’m not sure it ever will unless something new happens. “I think it’s someone we know.”
Maybe. “I don’t know,” I reply. I don’t know anything anymore. I don’t know if I did the right thing by walking away from her. Olivia offers me a paint brush and I dip it into the red paint. The principal set up a committee to find out the culprit but no one is forthcoming. “How are you?”
I have no idea what I’m drawing or painting but I keep making strokes on the canvas.
“Good,” she answers with a smile. I set my brush down because of how much sincerity coats her voice. I have known Olivia long enough to see through her fake smiles and real ones. “Mrs Mower came to the house.”
Gracie’s mother. I close my eyes to stop that image of Gracie’s heartbroken face when I called her Tessa. I didn’t mean to. But when Gracie hugged me and I couldn’t get away from her, it reminded me of Tessa. I felt trapped again.
“What did she say?”
None of us have spoken about the incident that happened the last time I was at her house. If my outburst had an effect, I don’t know and I don’t ask because I don’t know how to. She made me promise not to tell anyone.
“I don’t know,” Olivia murmurs. She switches my canvas with hers to rectify the damage I did on mine. “But there was a lot of shouting. It was a lot,” she says with a giggle. “But it was okay, I guess since we spoke to the police.”
“The police?” She nods. “What about?”
“Stuff.”
“About him?” Him, the bastard her mother is sleeping with. Another nod. “What did they say?”
Olivia shifts in her seat, her brush is dry but she keeps stroking the canvas. “That he can be arrested. I have to give a statement. Talk to some people. Take some tests and a lot of other things. They might need witnesses too.” The brush falls from her hand but she doesn’t notice. “They asked a lot of questions. I don’t like the police station, Ben.”
The police station makes it even more real. If Mum had acted, would she have been taken to the police too? Isn’t it too late to have her arrested? I would love to see her behind bars for the rest of her life or at least half of it.
This moment is about Olivia so my gaze returns to her. “Do you have to go there–”
“Everyone keeps looking at me with pity. I don’t like it. One of the policemen, Mum says we will sue him, he asked me what I was wearing.” Olivia’s lips are bleeding from her biting too hard into them but she doesn’t stop. She clenches her fists until her knuckles turn white. “It’s not my fault, you know?”
“It’s not,” I whisper.
It won’t matter if she wrapped herself like a burrito. He’s a sick man. Tessa is a sick woman. I nudge her with my shoulder and her lips crack in a half-smile. At least one of us got some form of justice. That’s okay.
“I like Mrs Mower,” she says. She’s back to painting. Her tone is lighter. “I think she threatened my mum.” Olivia shakes her head like she’s remembering the conversation. I manage a smile. “You cannot tell anybody.”
“You cannot bully anybody,” I say instead.
She laughs. “Scouts honour.”
Does that apply to her since she’s a girl? I shrug. I watch her paint a red flamingo or what looks like it.
“I think you should call her,” Olivia says. I think I should too. “I also think we should stop being friends if it will affect your relationship with her.” I nod in agreement, maybe because it’s coming from her. Coming from Olivia, it feels like I have been freed from my self-imposed guardian angel duty. “If my soulmate asked me to pick him over my friend, I would pick him. It feels like the right thing to do.”
Her words leave me thinking. I am not offended that she will pick someone else over me. Lines appear on my forehead. Olivia continues painting. “How will you know when you meet your soulmate?”
“I don’t know,” she replies with a laugh. “I have not found mine but I think Gracie is yours.” Soulmates sound big, like a lifetime commitment. Olivia drops her brush and hugs herself while smiling at the half-finished product on the canvas. “I think I’ll be fine now.”
As long as her mother doesn’t slack again, she will be fine. I ruffle her hair to annoy her.
“What’s your story anyways?” she asks.
What’s my story? Gracie should be the first one to hear it. I rotate my shoulders and she nods knowingly. She knows I won’t tell her anything. In the silence, the sound of her brush meeting the canvas is comforting.
“Call her, Ben,” Olivia says when we are about to leave the classroom. “I will be alright on my own.”
* * *
The front of Gracie’s house looks deserted. Mrs Mower’s car is gone, same with Gracie’s. I don’t think too much of it as I jog up the stairs and knock. No response. The door to the neighbour’s house opens and a red-haired kid steps out.
The kid waves me over and I fast walk to him. He meets me halfway. Up close I can see I am only a few inches taller than him. His mop of curly hair forms a bang he continuously swipes at.
He squints. “Are you Benjamin Carter?”
“That’s me,” I answer. A note of uncertainty creeps into my voice when he nods like he knows something I don’t and my heart dips. I don’t like this at all. He backs away from me and I scream at his retreating figure. “Yo. What’s up? I’m Ben.”
The door to his house closes and I shake my head in annoyance. As usual, Gracie’s phone number is not reachable. Maybe New York has a poor network. I am about to return to Gracie’s house when his door swings open. He grins at me from the entrance. That kid is weird but I want to know what he knows.
My lips twitch when he comes out with a box under his arm. He stops in front of me again, stretches the box out to me. I don’t take it. This city is cool and peaceful but I am not about to start accepting boxes from strangers.
“Tessa asked me to give this to you,” he adds on noticing my hesitance. “For Benjamin Carter.”
My heart flutters at the mention of my girlfriend’s name. It will take more than words to win her heart. I think I broke it. I broke her heart and ended up breaking mine in the process. I collect the box from him and motion to Gracie’s house.
“Where is she?” I shake the box to determine its content but it is of no use. It makes no sound. “I’ve been knocking but the house looks empty.”
He shrugs. “Yeah. She is probably in New York by now.”
Everything slows down. His mouth moves in slow motion and my heart beats erratically. He is lying.
“What?”
“New York. They left yesterday morning, I think.”
I heard him the first time but the second time confirms it. I stagger backwards because his words hurt me physically. My heart shatters and the box drops from my hand. The red head gives me an annoyed look, picks it up and shoves it to my chest.
“If you don’t want the boots, I can have them,” he says but I don’t understand what he is saying. After a mock salute, he walks out. I stand there for so long I lose count of time. Gracie left for New York.
She left and it’s my fault.
* * *
A/N: If you’re reading this, it’s safe to assume you already read the first part: Bullied By The Badboy. If you haven’t, this part won’t make much sense to you. Sooo, read Bullied By The Badboy first. It can be found by searching for my username or the title.
Thank you for reading. Don’t forget to follow me on IG: maramarthaa. Connect with me on my Facebook page: Maramartha