Impulsion (Station 32 #1)(101)
“Please don’t do that,” I said quickly.
“Fine. The point is, we’re best friends, no matter how long we’ve been apart. You shouldn’t be scared or worried to see me. We’re BFF’s. That second ‘F’ stands for FOREVER, Olive. Forever. Got it?”
I laughed, hooking my arm around her neck and giving her a tight squeeze. How could I have ever thought it would be weird between us? It’s Ella. We’d been twin souls since she moved here in grade four and we both showed up the first day of school wearing the same purple dress with white polka dots. If that’s not fate, I don’t know what is.
Ella rested her head on my shoulder. “I’ve missed you, Ollie. Things were so lame without you here.”
“Aw, it couldn’t have been that bad.”
She sat up, cocking one eyebrow. Another one of her talents that I lacked. Damn my untalented eyebrows. “Are you kidding me? I’ve been dying here without you. You’re the only thing that keeps me sane half the time.”
“Then I’m not doing a very good job,” I teased.
“Ha ha. Seriously. I can’t wait for the first day of senior year when I get to walk into that school with you by my side again. I’ll finally be able to have real conversations with someone, instead of what sales are going on at the mall, and what colour of nail polish is in season. I swear to God, Olive, I’ve pictured killing Reagan so many different ways in my head, I’m afraid for her safety.”
“I’d actually love to hear some of those,” I said with a laugh. When Ella first told me she had become friends with the most popular girl in our school, Reagan Kennedy (no she’s not related, although she’d like people to think she is) I almost threw up. It had left a sour taste in my stomach and I ended up having one of my panic attacks that night when I went to bed. I was so scared Ella would turn into another one of Reagan’s robots that she wouldn’t be the same Ella I had grown up with. But thankfully the armour we built over the years of wit and intelligence stood against the mind-numbing stupidity that emanated from her and that whole group of girls.
I still didn’t like that she had been friends with them for the past two years. I couldn’t help but wonder how that would change things when we went back after summer break, but it was nice to see Ella didn’t think it would be a problem. I knew for sure I wasn’t going to be accepted into that group. Reagan had made it very clear how she felt about me freshman year. I was the strange art girl. Anything outside of the mall and People Magazine was strange and foreign to her.
I got up and started recapping the paints before they dried out. My eye caught movement outside of my window and I turned my head to see what it was. Damn. Now that I was looking, I couldn’t seem to force myself to look away.
“Hey!” Ella’s voice snapped at me. I almost pulled my neck from whipping my head around so fast. My cheeks flamed like I’d just been caught doing something horrible. I didn’t think ogling my neighbour qualified as ‘horrible’ per se. At least, I hoped it didn’t, because I’d been doing it since he moved in to the house next to mine when I was ten.
“Did you hear me?”
“Uh, no. What did you say?”
Her lips pursed like they always did when she was unimpressed. “What are you looking at out there that you’re completely ignoring me?” She stomped over (literally) to my window and I had the strongest urge to pull the curtains shut and tell her ‘nothing’ like a completely obvious nut. Instead I just froze and waited for her reaction. The smile I knew was coming spread across her face.
“Colt Morgan, huh? Still got the hots for him?” She grinned at me, wiggling her eyebrows. I decided then that I hated her eyebrows. Maybe I could shave them when we had a sleepover…nah. Then she’d look like that girl from The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, and that was just creepy.
“Shut up,” I said, turning to finish the task I had originally set out to do. My paints were like my babies. I always took care of them, which meant making sure they never dried out.
“I bet he looks different than from what you remember,” she continued, like she couldn’t tell I really didn’t want to talk about it. For eight years of my life I’ve had the biggest crush on a guy I’ve never done more than nod my head at. Not one word. Not one smile or wave, or any form of communication other than a nod. I was so lame. He probably thought I was such a freak, which meant that even if I wanted to, there was no way I could speak to him now. Nope. My life would be spent watching him from a distance as I became an old, lonely lady with ten cats.
Crap. I hated cats.
Against my will, I walked back over to stand beside her and looked out the window. He was still out there, leaning beneath the hood of his 1970 Chevrolet Chevelle that his father had bought him when he was thirteen. Who the hell buys a thirteen year old kid a classic car? Seriously! His father also ended up walking out on his mother the following day so clearly he wasn’t the best parental role model. I remembered watching him when his father got home with it. The roaring sound of the engine had caught my attention while I sat in my window, painting the cherry blossoms on the Stephenson’s lawn across the street. I still remembered the look on his face too. It had been – priceless.
It was also the last time I really saw him smile like that since that following day after his dad left. From then on he rarely smiled, rarely said hello to me as I walked by with my head down and my shoulders hunched, rarely showed up for school or any school functions. Colt Morgan had gone from an okay student to a bad student in less than five days. It was probably a record.