There’s an embarrassed silence.“We haven’t quite come to an agreement about the house yet.”
“Well, I’m at boarding school anyway.And after that, I’ll be at uni.”
“Olive, this will always be your home.”
It’s hard not to laugh.“Right, Dad.”
“Darling, we weren’t deliberately keeping secrets from you.We just had to work out what it all means and the best way to go from here.But we love you.We’re your parents.We’ll always love you.”
I try not to cry.I spent over a year beating myself up every day because I knew something that I thought would destroy myfamily when, in truth, it was already long broken.My dad isn’t some knight in shining armor who goes out to work and comes home innocently, with no idea of what’s going on.He was just slogging on, the same as Mum.And I was sat there between them, desperately trying to figure out how to save something that couldn’t be saved.What an absolute idiot.
Colin
I feel cut off.From myself, from reality.Nothing gets through to me, and I know myself well enough to be aware that that’s dangerous.
My first impulse, after I was done with the lighter, was to go to Mrs.Sinclair.I’d lost all sense of time, but it must have been later than I thought because her office was shut and Mr.Harper was nowhere to be seen either.Maybe that’s for the best, because I don’t want to put myself through the humiliation of begging her to throw me out of the school and convince my mother that this is the last place on earth I should be.
The rest of the weekend blurs into a collection of moments.I’m such a loser that I can’t even bring myself to call the police in Manhattan.I psych myself up to do it a bunch of times but always fail.I’ve never felt so ashamed.
I don’t see Olive—she seems to be away, and I hear from her friends that she’s gone home.Which is better for her, but it’s stressing me out.I have to speak to her.I have to apologize to her, explain everything.Only then can I do what needs to be done.
But at the same time, I feel as if I can never again go anywhere near her.She doesn’t have a goddamn clue what I’m responsible for.What a monster I am.But however I twist and turn, it’s not an option to keep the truth from her.She’ll hate me, if not for what I did, then for not accepting the consequences.Because if I understood her correctly, even now, nobody knows who’s to blame for the fire in which Olive nearly died.The buildings are old and so are the gas pipes.It could have been an accident.Not that it would change anything for Olive—I’m just wondering if it would help to know somebody was responsible for it.If it helps to be able to hate a specific person.Or if ignorance is bliss.
All I know is that I can’t take it anymore.I didn’t want to come here and start again: I wanted to stay in New York and take the rap for my actions.My own mother wouldn’t let me—and what kind of lame excuse does that sound like?Why didn’t I go to the cops the same night I realized what she was planning and turn myself in?Why did I convince myself that she’d do the right thing, at least until I knew what she actually had in mind?How could I have known that taking responsibility was the last thing on her mind?Because if your name’s Fantino, there’s no such thing as taking responsibility.All you have is your name, which has to be kept clean, whatever the cost.And in this case, the cost is my peace of mind.
But if there’s one thing I’m sure of, it’s that my name is the only thing connecting me to my mother.I’m not like her, even if she keeps trying, again and again, to convince me that I am.I wouldn’t doanythingfor money and power; I don’t let people slip under the bus if I can help it, let alone throw them under.I tell the truth if the truth needs to be told, and for fuck’s sake, this is the time to prove it.
But I don’t want to.I just don’t want to, because it’ll mean Olive finding out who I really am.And whatever it is that’s grown between us in the last couple weeks, I’m not sure it would survive that.Or ifI’d survive that.
I tried to fight it, but now Olive Garden, with the furious green eyes, is the person I look at and feel that my heart wants to be with.She got under my skin, she drove me crazy, and then she lay in my arms, crying, while I couldn’t breathe.Nobody can expect to have an experience like that and not be affected by it.Olive Henderson has done something to me.And every time I think about the next few months, I’m thinking about her.I’m not thinking about New York anymore; I’m thinking about everything here, even though I still hate it, but also kind of don’t.It’s stressing me out, especially when I realize I’ll lose all this once the truth gets out.The fire in the west wing must have changed this school—I know that even though I haven’t been here long.Maybe it used to be more chill.No furtive glances and hushed voices when Olive walked down a corridor or sat out a competition.She must have been part of everything and wiped the floor with everyone.Back when she could swim and wasn’t so mad.Though I bet she was always getting mad.I haven’t known her long, but I’m pretty sure that’s a genuine personality trait.Hey, I’m talking from experience.
Shit, I don’t want anyone to hurt her, and I hate myself for being the guy who’ll do that when I tell her the truth.I shut my eyes for a moment, then walk back to the school from my favoritebench by this lake.It’s gotten cold, but this is one of the few places I can be alone.I actually managed not to pick up the lighter for the entire weekend.I can feel the pressure building, but then I flash back to the panic in Olive’s face when she burst into my room and screamedWhat are you doing?at me.Hopefully she didn’t figure it out.Or, worse still, tell anyone.God, I’m a monster, but maybe I ought to tell her the truth and make clear to her that she can’t give me away.Ava Fantino thinks she knows it all, but she doesn’t have a fucking clue how much of a problem I have here.Let alone Dad—he’d have to show up at home for that.And I’ve always been careful around Cleo, obviously.Nobody has any idea, and it has to stay that way.It’s ironic that part of me still thinks I do this fucked-up shit to get attention when I never tell a soul.I know that’s not healthy.But I can’t face dealing with it.Not now.Sometime...but not now.
And now it’s Monday again, and I see Olive at the morning assembly.I can tell immediately that she’s been crying, and I fight the urge to stand up and go to her.Olive keeps her head down and walks quickly past the groups of kids still hanging around the auditorium.She heads straight for the lower-sixth row and doesn’t deign to look at me, which hurts like hell.
She doesn’t look up until she’s taken a seat as far from me as possible, which makes me clench my fists.And it’s like our eyes have no choice but to meet instantly.There’s no other option.
She looks at me, and I recognize so much in that look that I gasp.Disappointment, pain, longing.
Damn it.
Over the last two days, I’ve had plenty of time to think about what my behavior made her feel, but in this second, it hits me like a knockout punch.I walked away.She told me what happened to her, and I turned around and left her alone.She trusted me, she started to tell me things, and I gave her the feeling that her secrets were safe with me.And they are, nothing’s changed there, but I’m dead certain she’d never have done it if she knew who I was.
Before I know what I’m doing, I give an almost imperceptible shake of my head.
My lips form the words “I’m sorry,” and Olive’s face freezes.She turns away and I want to die.Seriously.I feel sick as she puts on a smile and others in our form fill the seats between us.Olive doesn’t look at me again.She chats to Elain, laughs, and I get the feeling I’m supposed to see that she’s not fazed.That she had a good weekend, doesn’t give a shit what I do, and that I can’t hurt her.Nobody can hurt her, not after what she’s been through.
The doors to the auditorium shut, and I feel totally helpless.
It’s Monday, so full uniform is compulsory.I find that as ridiculous as ever, but even I get goose bumps when we all stand up and Mrs.Sinclair steps up to the lectern.She nods, and we all sit down again.
“Good morning, everyone.I hope you’ve had a good weekend and that you’re ready for the week ahead.”Her eyes roam over the lines of seats.“It’s a long way off yet, but I would like to use this assembly to tell you about the plans for our school’s centenary celebrations.You all know, of course, that they had to be postponed until next year, and now I’m happy to be able to give you moredetails.The whole of June will be focused on the anniversary, culminating with the official festivities just before the summer holidays.”
The others start to whisper and murmur, but I feel numb.I don’t have to ask why the celebrations were delayed.How ironic that the school nearly burned down on its hundredth birthday.Everyone goes quiet as Mrs.Sinclair continues.
“I am happy and proud that, after the awful events of the summer, I can now lead Dunbridge Academy into this special occasion at full strength.The centenary committee has been working hard on the plans for weeks now, and I would very much like to thank them all, on behalf of the whole staff, for their dedication.It’s lovely to see you getting involved in the life of our school and all the effort you’re putting into making this an unforgettable event.And let’s face it, a hundred and first birthday is an even more special occasion, isn’t it?”
I sit motionless as the others laugh and nod.What’s more special about that?It would have been nicer if there hadn’t been a fire here and if Olive hadn’t gotten hurt.I don’t dare look in her direction.
