Page 89 of Not Made to Last

Belinda’s door opens, and Olivia jumps to her feet so fast she almost forgets the plant she’d been holding on to.

I chuckle under my breath and look down at the playbook again. “Come in, Olivia,” Belinda says, and I glance up again. Belinda’s just outside my door, her arm out, guiding Olivia intoher office. After a few seconds, she turns to me, does that lame two fingers to her eye “I’m watching you” motion, and it only makes me laugh harder.

As soon as I hear the door closed, I get up, close the blinds to my office and shut the door. Then I put my ear to the door leading directly into Belinda’s office.

If Olivia, as Mercedes, can get into my head without my permission, the least I can do is get into hers.

Olivia

“For me?” Miss Turner asks, taking the plant I’m offering.

“A thank-you,” I say, nodding. “It’s not much, but I think it resembles who you are.”

She sets the plant right next to her computer screen. “How so?”

“I feel like you have a way of finding people when they’re at their smallest, like this,” I say, pointing to the tiny piece of green stem sprouting from the dirt, “and you nurture them, help them grow until they’re ready to stand on their own.”

Miss Turner looks from the plant to me, a sad smile tugging on her lips. “That’s how you see me?”

I nod again, push down my emotions.

She motions to the chair on the opposite side of her desk, and we both sit at the same time. “Is that how you felt about yourself the other night, when I went to your house… that you were at your smallest?”

With a shrug, I answer in truth. “Yes.”

“Have there been other times when you’ve felt like that?”

“Yes, but that night was the worst.”

“Tell me about the other times.”

I laugh only because I’m nervous. “We’re just going to jump straight in, huh?”

“I’ve opened your dresser drawers and seen your underwear, Olivia. I’m pretty sure we’re past pleasantries.”

“Right.” I clear my throat, my vision immediately blurred by my tears. “Three years ago—today—my grandparents died.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“I sat in an ambulance, holding the hand of my then three-year-old brother while the paramedics took their bodies away. There was a cop there with us, and he kept asking if there was anyone I’d like him to call, and my mind went blank. There was nobody else. Nobody but Dominic. He was at this event with his new team, and somehow, I had to get to him. I had to be the one to tell him that…. that it was the worst day of our lives. And it was only just beginning…”

By the time I finish unloading all my trauma on Miss Turner, it’s already halfway through second period. She asked if I wanted to stop before classes started, but I was already in her office, bare and vulnerable like I’d planned to be, and honestly, I don’t think I could’ve mustered up the courage to go another round, at another time.

Late pass in hand, I leave her office feeling emotionally drained, yet, somehow, accomplished.

I don’t make it far.

Rhys is in his doorway, leaning against the frame, his head bowed, and it’s obvious he’s been waiting for me.

“Hey,” he says, no affect in his tone.

I stop a foot away. “Hey.”

He attempts a smile, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

Internally, I die a little. Externally, I say, “I heard you saw Dominic last night.”

Pushing off the door, he crosses his arms and stands to full height. “You heard that, huh?”

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