The Night Olivia Fell. Christina McDonald

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The Night Olivia Fell - Christina McDonald

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sound of his bones popping.

      ‘I’m sorry about . . . you know,’ he said. ‘It’s just, I love you. I think we’ve been together long enough to show it that way.’

      ‘Soon, okay? I’m just not ready yet.’

      ‘I was thinking. . .’ He leaned closer and kissed my cheek wetly. ‘Maybe one of these weekends we could make it extra special? Go somewhere, just us? You could tell your mom you’re spending the night at Madison’s.’

      I wanted to laugh at how ridiculous he sounded. What would we do, rent a hotel room for the night? Besides, I didn’t want to have sex yet. I wasn’t going to be one of those stupid knocked-up teenagers – like my mom was.

      But I didn’t say that. Instead I smiled and said: ‘Sure, yeah, maybe.’ I didn’t want to hurt his feelings, and if it would make him happy, I’d let him think we could go away for a night.

      The bus lurched to a stop, and I realized we’d arrived at the University of Washington.

      ‘We’re here!’ somebody shouted from the front of the bus.

      Madison pulled her earbuds out and pointed out the window. ‘There’s everybody else!’

      I followed her gaze. A group of about forty teenagers was gathered at the end of the parking lot. Half of them were wearing casual clothes, but the other half were dressed in matching uniforms: the girls in green tartan skirts with green blazers and knee-high stockings, the boys in gray pants and green ties.

      ‘Preppy dicks!’ Peter shouted. A slice of sunlight shone on his red hair and lit the smattering of freckles across his face. He was watching Madison, waiting for a reaction. For his sake, I hoped he stayed away from her. She would eat him alive, and Peter was actually a pretty nice guy. Tyler called her a thot behind her back. If she weren’t my best friend, I’d probably agree. She’d go out with a different guy every weekend, then dump him the next day.

      ‘Fuckheads!’ Tyler’s friend Dan shouted.

      Bold and bullish, Dan was a fat little tryhard, but his overconfidence and arrogance meant nobody stood up to him. Tyler thought Dan was hilarious. I thought he was a jerk.

      ‘Watch your mouth, guys!’ Mr Parks, our PE teacher who was running this little field trip, yelled from the front of the bus. ‘Come on, off the bus.’

      We stepped out into the glorious spring sunshine. It was one of those pristine Seattle days when the rain has finally stopped, leaving behind a scrubbed blue sky. The air had just a hint of warmth in it, a promise that more days like this would soon follow.

      Cherry trees coated in frothy pink and white blossoms peeked from between towering evergreens. In the distance I could see the start of Greek Row, a collection of Tudor, Gothic, and Georgian fraternity and sorority houses.

      ‘Over here, guys!’ Mr Parks waved his arms to us, his beefy biceps rippling under his white polo shirt. We shuffled over, and Mr Parks made introductions: Portage Point High, Ballard High, and Seattle Catholic Academy, the Catholic kids in the uniforms.

      Somehow we’d faced off so we were separated into three groups, but once we’d been introduced, everybody started talking to each other.

      Tyler had an arm draped around my shoulder, tucking me tightly against his body. Madison was just to the right of me. I felt comfortable, safe, secure in my world.

      And then I saw her.

      Just steps from me was a girl wearing the green school uniform of Seattle Catholic Academy. She had long, pale blonde hair, sharp Slavic cheekbones, a pointed nose, and a slightly off-center dimple in her chin.

      As she swung her eyes toward me, I felt my world slipping toward the edge of a cliff I didn’t even know existed.

      She looked like she could be my sister.

      The girl’s eyes widened when she saw me, emphasizing the unusual shade of forest green: just like mine.

      In that instant, as I looked at the face I’d known my entire life, I felt myself tumble over that cliff. I didn’t know how far I would fall or how hard I would crash, only that nothing would ever be the same.

       ABI

      october

      ‘Do you understand what I’m saying, Mrs Knight?’

      I blinked at Dr Griffith, not sure I’d heard him right.

      ‘Your daughter is pregnant.’ He spoke slowly, as if I were a child unable to grasp his words. ‘Olivia’s suffered irreversible brain damage and she won’t wake up, but Washington State law prohibits us from turning off life support. We have to give the fetus the best chance at surviving. Do you understand?’

      I nodded and shook my head at the same time. I did understand, but it made no sense, as if he’d grabbed random words from a dictionary and pasted them into a sentence.

      ‘Wha –?’

      A knock at the door interrupted me, and a pink-scrub-clad nurse with the sad, droopy face and flabby jowls of a Saint Bernard entered.

      ‘Mrs Knight, your sister –’

      Sarah burst past the nurse, elbowing her way into the room. Her blue eyes were laced with red, the translucent skin of her lids as raw and puffy as mine. She grabbed my hand, and I stared at her fingers. Her nails were smooth and perfectly oval, shining red, the color of fresh blood. Even now in the middle of the night, her long, perfectly highlighted hair swung and shone under the anemic hospital lights.

      She pulled me in for a hug so hard it hurt my ribs. I stiffened and she dropped her arms, a shadow of hurt crossing her face. It had always been there, this slight distance between us. My fault, admittedly, but I no longer knew how to stop it.

      ‘Where’s Olivia? Is she okay? What happened? Why was she out in the middle of the night?’

      The questions were rapid as a machine gun, asked in Sarah’s most demanding mom voice. The one she’d been practicing since I was ten and she was twenty, when our mother left me on Sarah’s front step with nothing but a backpack of dirty clothes. She’d gone home and killed herself that very day, leaving Sarah to raise me.

      I shook my head, tears rising in my throat.

      ‘She . . . she . . .’

      I didn’t know why Olivia was out in the middle of the night.

      After my bath, I’d had some wine and then gone to bed with a book. I was asleep while my daughter was out doing . . . what?

      The dark fog of anxiety swirled violently around me.

      Panic: my old friend.

      ‘Mrs Knight?’ I heard from somewhere far away.

      My vision blurred and a high-pitched whining droned in my ears. I couldn’t hold it away anymore. I crashed to the ground.

      ‘Abi!’

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