Chapter 14
Olive
“You’re making great progress, Olive,” says Andrea, the physio I’ve been seeing in Ebrington since I’ve been back at Dunbridge. “Are you noticing the improvement in your everyday life?”
“Yeah, totally,” I say as I pull my jumper back on, because I think that’s what she wants to hear.
In reality, I discover at every opportunity just how many things I still can’t do.
It’s hard to register the little successes because they don’t feel like success.
Just like the bare minimum. Like finally being able to put a top on with a moderate degree of grace and no pain.
Just now, after three-quarters of an hour doing physio exercises, it’s not quite as smooth as it is in the mornings, when my shoulder’s rested.
But I’m getting through the nights without painkillers now.
“If you keep up this level of progress, we’ll think about whether you can get back to joining in with games at school next month.”
I’m surprised. “Isn’t that too early?” I ask, although I’ve been longing to hear those words.
“No, I don’t think so,” she replies. “You can start gently, and only join in when you feel up to it. Believe in yourself, Olive. You really are doing excellently.”
My smile feels forced. “If you say so.”
“I’ll see you again on Friday,” she says after a glance at her table. “And don’t forget your exercises.”
“I’ll try.”
She smiles. “I know, Olive. Be proud of yourself. You’ve come so far already.”
She means well, I know that, but her words don’t improve my mood. That doesn’t change until I’ve left her practice and see Emma and Tori, who promised to come and meet me so we can hang out in the village a wee while.
They bombard me with questions about the session and how things are going in class.
To my relief, I found it pretty easy to get back up to speed with A-level Spanish.
After class this morning, Mr. Acevedo told me he’s happy with me.
I could try harder in the oral, he says, but that’s difficult because I’m sat next to Fantino, and compared to his, my Spanish is abysmal.
To be honest, I hadn’t expected him to be so academic.
He’d probably find it way easier in the upper sixth than I would, and I don’t like that thought at all.
Still, I guess it wouldn’t make sense for him to join halfway through the A-level courses, same as with Emma when she came here from Germany last year.
“So what are you doing in maths just now?” I ask. We’re in Irvine’s, and Tori’s just grabbed a bag of crisps to join the chocolate and tea bags in her shopping basket.
“God knows; I don’t,” she mutters, continuing to scan the shelves. The shop’s too small to have much of a range, but somehow we always manage to spend hours here.
“We’re doing mechanics at the moment,” Emma replies, lobbing a packet of tampons into Tori’s basket.
“Yeah,” Tori says. “I’m really lost with all that.”
“Henry will be able to help you for sure,” Emma tells her.
“Can I tag along?”
They give me that look, the one that drives me insane.
“It’s my birthday in six weeks,” I say curtly.
“Do you think you’ll really be able to move up?” Emma asks. “Is that even possible this far into the year?”
I give an exasperated shrug. “It has to be.”
“Is it that bad in the lower sixth? Will and Kit are there too,” says Tori.
“And I thought you’d made friends with that new girl from Germany,” Emma adds. “Elain. We got talking the other day, and she’s really nice.”
“No, yeah, but I have to come back to you guys.” I gulp. “You don’t know how crap it is suddenly not to be part of things.”
“You’re just as much part of things as ever.”
I gaze at Tori with everything I can’t put into words. “You don’t even believe that yourself.”
“Yes, I do, Livy. We all believe it. It’s only you who doesn’t.”
“I just miss you.” I dig my hands into my jacket pockets as I stroll down the aisle.
“We miss you too, Olive.”
I have to bite my bottom lip and focus on the pain to take my mind off how shite Emma’s words make me feel.
“Everyone got everything?” asks Tori, who followed me.
I just nod because I only came into the little supermarket to be with the others.
I don’t need anything, but after this, we’re taking a detour to Ebrington Tales, and then we’ll wind up in the Blue Room Café.
Like the old days. I hate how little we see of each other now that we’re not in classes together.
Sometimes I wonder what it will be like when my friends leave the school after their A levels and we’re all scattered to the winds.
I don’t feel ready for that, but I’m afraid nobody ever will be.
So it’s all the more important to pull off my plan to get to the upper sixth ASAP.
My eyes wander over the sweets and chewing gum beside the till while Tori and Emma look at magazines.
Then I catch sight of a row of little packets.
Scottish tablet is almost pure sugar and way too sweet for me—I didn’t even eat it for energy just before a swimming gala—but, given my recent discoveries, it suddenly seems vitally important to have a little stash.
I remember what Fantino said when I asked him if he always has sugar on him in case of emergency. I believe him, but still better safe than sorry. It might come in useful sometime. And if not, he never has to know. It doesn’t mean anything. I just like to be prepared, that’s all.
Tori gives me a quick sideways glance but says nothing as I put my purchase on the counter.
“Be right with you,” a voice says, and I tense up.
Crap, it’s Kit. I didn’t know he was working in his parents’ shop today.
He emerges from between the shelves and comes up to the till. “How are you?” he asks, glancing at my shopping. “That all?”
“Yeah,” I say cautiously, not even sure why I’m so nervous. It’s just tablet—there’s nothing wrong with that. But I’ve noticed lately that Kit and Colin seem to be making friends with each other. They spend their breaks together and usually sit together at mealtimes too.
Kit scans the little packet with a somewhat knowing expression.
“Cut that out,” I snarl at him, holding out a fiver.
He grins. “What?”
“Don’t know. Just cut it out.”
“No worries, Olive,” he says soothingly. “Need a bag?”
“No, thanks,” I mutter.
“Great.” His lips twitch as he digs my change out of the till. “Here you are, your change and your receipt.” I take it from Kit and wait for him to scan Tori’s and Emma’s shopping through too. He’s still looking at me in that amused way as they take their bags and head for the exit.
“See you,” I mumble.
“Byeee,” calls Kit.
“So want to talk about Colin now?” Tori asks, once we’ve left the shop.
I slip the tablet into my jacket pocket and don’t look at Tori. “No. Why?”
“Well, I thought, now you know that he . . .”
“That he has diabetes?” I laugh softly. “That sadly doesn’t alter the fact that he’s an arsehole.”
“But you were talking at the party the other night?”
“We were arguing,” I lie. It’s not like my friends didn’t see through me long ago, but I don’t feel any need to let them know I had something approaching a proper conversation with Fantino for the first time.
“You’d make such great enemies to lovers,” Tori remarks, giggling as I glare at her.
Emma sighs. “You read too many of those books, Tori.”
“And you don’t read enough. Besides, you’re not one to talk. You and Henry were classic insta-love.”
“Explain, please.” Emma raises her eyebrows.
“Love at first sight.”
“It was not love at first sight.”
“You had a crush on him before you even got here last year,” Tori says. “I saw it when you were standing in the courtyard looking so lost and trying to spot him.”
“I wasn’t looking for him,” Emma contradicts, but the flush in her cheeks gives her away.
I can’t help smiling, and I don’t know whether to be pleased or shocked at myself when I grasp that.
Emma joined the school at about the same time that I saw Mum kiss the other man.
Nobody could miss the serious chemistry between Emma and Henry, but he was with Grace then.
It made me so angry, because suddenly they were everywhere—people hurting the people who loved them.
Although I know now that I can’t accuse Henry of cheating.
God, we’re so grown up now, but we don’t know who we are or what we want from life.
Maybe this is just a painful phase when you have to learn that nothing in this world lasts forever.
Especially not if you try to cling to it with all your strength.
But there’s no changing how worried I am about Grace, who hasn’t been herself since she and Henry split up.
And even Gideon doesn’t seem able to change that, however much time they’ve been spending together since last year’s play rehearsals.
I only hope she can trust him. And that he won’t hurt her like Henry did last year.
I don’t know much, but if there’s one thing I’m sure of, it’s that I don’t have time for that crap. Falling in love, opening up to someone, and them letting you down.
Fantino’s name is the one that springs to mind, and that ought to make me think.
After all, I hate him. And I really have no desire to speak about him.
I get the feeling that Tori’s not buying that, but at least she doesn’t mention him again, even once we’re walking back up to the school in time for study hour.
I work my way through a mountain of prep, then read the notes I’ve borrowed from my friends in the last couple of days.
After two and a half hours of calculations, my brain is smoking, and I have to admit that I might be lacking some background knowledge that would help me understand the upper-sixth work.
I feel no better in the dining room at dinner.
Luckily, I’m nowhere near Colin. All the voices and chatter seem too loud.
I’m knackered when I finally drop into bed at wing time.