OLIVER
I watched as Lizzie climbed like a monkey up her tree, then back down to the worn (she'd say "They're well-loved Oliver, jeez") leather journals in my lap. Seeing as I wasn't going to be getting any sleep now, I might as well start reading. Flipping over the first book, I smiled as I read in her scratchy, chicken scrawl,
Read Without Permission And DIE!
24/9/2007
Dear Oliver, (that sounds weird)
Okay so before I start, the shrink (why are they called that by the way? That's always bothered me, I don't know why) said that if I write this stuff down then I'd "be able to come to turns with your disappearance better" I call BS." I snorted at the lack of cursing in this book, "Anyway back to my babbling, Laurel has decided to come over nearly everyday. Let's make this perfectly clear, WE BOTH KNOW THAT I HATEHER. Look it's in capitals, with hate in big, black, bulky letters that sort of hurt my hand when I wrote that; anyway, she's decided that she wants to mother me, constantly saying to me "Are you okay?" "Do you want help?" "Sweetie it'll be okay." you can LITERALLY feel the condescending manner that she spoke in through my words on this paper. Am I invalid? No. Am I a two year old? No. Am I stupid? HECK NO! URGGGGG!
Basically every time she comes over, I want to smash her head in with a spork (that's the spoon-fork hybrid that is useless…maybe not the BEST murdering weapon there is but I swear…) Mum's gone catatonic, not coming out of her room, Raisa's taken to bringing her food up to her, Thea's being helpful but I can't do anything to help her Ols. She keeps asking when you and Dad'll be coming back and I don't know how to answer her. I can't look into her eyes and tell her the truth, that maybe you won't be back, (maybe if you're reading this, you're back so YAY!) that maybe you and Dad are…gone." I frowned at the tear stained paper, "It's hard. I'm only fourteen and I have to take care of my baby sister, deal with friggin' Mother Laurel, a catatonic!Mum and school and interviews, I haven't even finished Year 10 yet and I'm being forced into a world, I know little about.
Tommy's helping though, he isn't forcing me to do stuff, though is around when I need to unload if I need to. He's there as comic relief and dealing with this stuff that I call my life right now, is duly needed. You're probably thinking "Where's all your friends?" and basically what happened was that after you were confirmed MIA, one thing that Mum told me to do was to stop dancing. I don't know why I did as I was told I love it. When I'm not writing, whether fiction (I'm trying to start a book, it isn't really working) or school stuff, I'm listening to music. It's calming and we both know with my temper, that a God-send. I've gotten into cars recently so that's fun. I grin every time Laurel sees me come in covered in oil and grease. I've learn how to change a tire, fill the water and oil up in the engine and am starting on how to change brakes and stuff.
I have to go Ols, Raisa's just told me to go to sleep cause I have school tomorrow (blegh).
Goodnight big brother,
Lizzie
PS. Stay safe…wherever you are
My callused finger rubbed against the worn ink of her name, my mind racing with everything that her 14-year-old self had just told me. So not only had she have to deal with my disappearance, but with the press, Thea asking questions, Laurel mother-henning her, trying to control her almighty temper, Mum being catatonic but also with school and trying to stay afloat in her education as well. She wasn't even 15 yet, no wonder she's so quiet now.
"Jesus Liz…" I murmured, running my hand through my buzz cut light brown hair. Over the next few hours, I read through her entries. Reading through her ups and downs, the crushes that she had, and the heartbreaks, the teasing and bullying and the abandonment that she had through her schooling years. It seemed that between each bad thing was a miniscule good one, I smiled as I read her getting into MIT, choosing to go down the business and surprisingly engineering roots. I wasn't entirely surprised considering that she had slightly ADHD. There was a photo in one though, an older Thea and Lizzie, grinning at the camera. Thea had all her teeth and Lizzie was wearing thick glasses; their hair was in messy buns and they had junk food in front of them. What really struck me was the 18th birthday girl badge on Lizzie's left side.
"That was when people decided that they didn't want to be my friend, that instead of sticking by me, they spread rumors and horrible ones at that. It was just Thea and I, and Tommy I guess too." came her small voice, I looked up from the aged photograph and saw my little sister, her right hand fingering her sleeve with her arms crossed defensively as if she was guarding herself from the world, "Mum thought I wanted to throw this big bash but…" she dragged off, not knowing how to finish her sentence.
"I-I'm sorry." I stumbled and she looked at me with a dry look,
"For what Ols, you didn't ask to be in that storm, or on that island or to be gone five years. Fate's just a bitch like that."
"I liked you better when you didn't swear." I laughed quietly and she sat down beside me, her ratty old sweats stained and worn with age.
"Oh back then I swore, just some really stupid ones, like 'shit' or something like that. It was high school Oliver, and not the private one that Thea goes to." she murmured and tilted her head against my shoulder; I rested my chin on her crown.
"I never understood that, why did you go public?"
"Public to me, was a way for others to see that just because my last name was Queen didn't mean that I had to go to private schools. Yea, I was bullied and it was shit and all that crap but after a while, when I joined a few after school clubs they saw that I wasn't this stuck up bitch and that I didn't flaunt what I had. Private from what I've seen between you and now Thea, is that people are always trying to best each other, that there can only be one person on top. It's also…no offense or anything but compared to my high school education, you two were and in Thea's case are being spoon fed information on how to do things."
"What'd you mean?" I asked as she pulled away, her stormy blues swirling,
"What I mean is that public schooling just doesn't have a) the time to go to each student in a class and tell them directly what they have to do in an assignment and b) the money to do so. My marks shot up and down like a rollercoaster due to the fact that sometimes I didn't understand what I had to do but I studied, something you didn't do," I snorted at her light hearted jab, "and it got me into MIT, and I graduated nearly top of the class." she boasted with a slight grin on her face. I looked down at her with a wide-eyed expression,
"Seriously?"
"No, I just said that to see how you reacted." she deadpanned, her expression completely serious. I rolled my eyes at her and she grinned but it was cut off by a big yawn, "Jesus what time is it?"
"Around two or three in the morning." I replied after glancing outside at the moon, having gotten used to telling the time via the skies.
"C'mon, MacGyver it's time to go to bed." she chirped as she pulled herself up. I gathered up her old diaries and took the one I was reading while she hid the rest. After climbing down the rope ladder, I lifted her mug and watched with a raised eyebrow as she dropped down the 8 feet gap with what looked like practiced ease, she saw my face and said, "They've been married two years and went out in year 2. I've had practice."
"Yea, no shit." I laughed quietly and she gave me a dry look.
"Oh shut up Ols." she snarked, and I grinned at her,
"Don't think I will, Little Sister." I dodged the slap she sent towards my bicep with a bark of laughter and took off towards the house,
"Gonna get you Oliver Jonas!" she squawked after me, though her tone was filled with laughter and I heard her running up behind me. I stopped, bending down quick enough to set the things in my hand down before catching her, "Too tired to fight." she murmured into the back of my shoulder, sleepiness knocking into her like a shit ton of bricks. Handing her the mud and diary, I carried her up to her room. Flumping her down on her Nightmare Before Christmas covered king sized bed, she snuggled down and I pecked her forehead,
"G'night Gremlin."
"Nigh' Ols." she slurred, looking up at me with slightly glassy blues. I smiled lightly down at her and made my way out, "Hey Oliver?" I glanced back, "Welcome home, big brother."
"It's good to be back."