Page 12 of Waking Olivia

Nicole rolls her eyes. “She’s datingWill. What do you think?”

WhatIthink is that any girl who would date Will must have a big bag of stupid lodged in the area meant for white matter. I don’t care how hot he is. Nothing is worth dealing with his bullshit.

11

Will

For some reason, after a relatively mild Colorado summer, it turns blazing hot on Wednesday. The girls were dragging this morning and, by afternoon, I’m not sure this practice can be technically classified as speedwork.

As soon as I get out of here, I’ve got to mow the perimeter of the fields and spray the area between our farm and our neighbor’s, which the sprayer didn’t hit last week. I’ve got to start getting the grain bins ready, manually moving the last of it down since they’re too light for gravity to do the job for me anymore. I’ve got 15 things to do, and not a single one Iwantto do, so I’m already on edge.

I find the appearance of the men’s track team more annoying than normal. Under the best of circumstances, I find them grating. We’re only one week into sharing the track and I’ve already had it with the way they gawk at Olivia like she’s a Playboy centerfold. The damn football team now has asongthey sing when she passes. It’s insane.

If I were being reasonable, I’d say I couldn’t blame them. Olivia isn’t just beautiful. Something compels you to look at her even when you don’t want to, like Medusa. The difference is that I realize Oliviacouldprobably turn you to stone with her withering glare, while the rest of these idiots are completely blind to it.

“Looking good, Finn,” Brofton says. Olivia rolls her eyes and keeps walking, but another kid, Piersal, stops staring at her chest just long enough to look at where the back of her singlet is gaping open.

"Jesus," he says. "What happened there?" He trails a finger over her skin and she jumps as if he’s burned her.

"Nothing," she snaps.

Anyone who’s even spent a modest amount of time around Olivia would know that tone meansleave me the fuck alone, but Piersal is either clueless or has a death wish. "It doesn't look like nothing," he says. "How'd it happen?"

There’s an expression on Olivia’s face, a combination of panic and rage as everyone turns to watch. "I don't know," she says through gritted teeth. She barks at the freshman to move and they scuttle.

"What do you mean you don't know?" He laughs. "You look like you got knifed! Youhaveto know."

Before I can even process what the hell is happening, she’s spun around and flung herself toward him, grabbing his shirt at the neck like she’s going to kick his ass across the track though he’s at least six inches taller than she is.

"I told you I don't know,” she snarls, pulling tighter at his shirt, starting to choke him. “Now ask me one more question so I can feed you your own balls."

I finally snap out of my shock and grab her, wrenching her away from him, and yelling at everyone to go on about their business. Once they’ve left, I round on her. "What the hell was that?"

"He was fucking with me."

"He just asked you a question.”

"Helaughed," she hisses. Her voice sounds strangled, anger and grief warring in her throat. "Did you not hear that part? A kid gets stabbed and it’s just a big fucking joke to you people, isn’t it?”

I’m slow to cover my surprise. Is she seriously saying someonestabbedher? “I’m sure he had no idea it was something that serious,” I finally say.

She rolls her eyes. "Of course he didn’t. Bad shit never happens to any of you. You all just stand around with your fucking care packages, salivating for a gory detail or two, and I get to be the bad guy for wanting some privacy."

"You know, if you'd just answered the question that would have been the end of it."

"Ididanswer the question," she growls. "How much do you remember from when you were little? And even if I did, it’s no one’s business but mine.”

Someone fuckingstabbedher.

I can't get past that fact. I want to forget it entirely because it causes this unfortunate pit of sympathy in my stomach and she's the kind of girl for whom feeling sympathy is dangerous. Feel bad and you start forgiving, making exceptions. The truth is that the odds of her getting through the next week without kicking Betsy’s ass are slim. The odds of her making it through the season? Impossible. So getting attached to her in any way is futile at best. I want to not think about it and I want to not think about her. It’s got to be the first time I’m actually grateful that I can go to the farm and throw myself into work.

I’ve been out in the fields for at least two hours when my mom takes the golf cart out to find me. “Did something happen at work?” she asks. Sometimes my mother sees through me so easily that it’s almost scary.

“Nothing I couldn’t have predicted.”

“What’s the problem?”

I shake my head. “There’s no problem.” It’s a lie, of course, but the truth is that I don’t know what the problem is. I don’t know why Olivia Finnegan seems to have taken over a small portion of my brain and, the moment my attention isn’t diverted, it seems to land right back on her.

---