Fall came to Pembroke like a slow catching flame. By early October the foothills around the school were ablaze with color: yellow and orange, crimson and gold. Sometimes Felicity woke early to sit in her windowsill and watch the deep mists drift up from the rioting hills. It was in those quiet mornings, with the steam from her coffee mug slowly fogging up the window and Sara snoring softly in the next bed that a nascent contentment burgeoned inside her. Felicity couldn't pinpoint the exact moment things had changed but at some point she had stopped feeling like an outsider and started thinking of the school as a sort of second home. Part of it, she decided, was simple the passage of time. Part of it was her friendships with Sara and Nyssa and Sin. Part of it was Oliver.
He seemed to have meant it when he said he wanted to be friends. After their talk he'd started coming by the tutoring center when he knew she'd be there. Sometimes he brought homework. Sometimes they talked. Sometimes they didn't. Felicity rarely had friends with whom she didn't feel the need to fill every lull in conversation with a joke or random factoid. No silence meant no opportunities for questions she didn't want to answer. People told Felicity her babbling was endearing without realizing that one of its primary side effects was to keep those same people at arm's length, to stop them from seeing the parts of her she didn't wanted them to see.
With Oliver things were different. Felicity knew he wouldn't probe for information she didn't offer up herself. Probably because he had his own short list of topics he'd rather not discuss. Felicity could guess at the big ones: his father's death, his time on the island. But by now she also knew that wasn't the whole story.
On weekends, sometimes even on weeknights, Oliver disappeared and no one, not even his best friend, Tommy Merlyn, seemed to know where he went. He had a motorcycle—apparently one of the perks of having your mother as the head of the Board of Trustees—that he kept it in one of the garden sheds. Sometimes Felicity looked up from studying while in bed at night and saw the yellow circle from his headlight bouncing along the long driveway as he made his escape. No one ever stopped him. Another perk, she supposed.
Common belief held that Oliver was a regular on the Starling City nightclub circuit, only 45 minutes away. The students of Pembroke had lived with extreme privilege their entire lives. It was easy to for them believe that his deep pockets would make up up for the fact he was only 18. Every now and then the tabloids ran a photograph of him on some rooftop bar surrounded by a cadre of leggy model types, seemingly corroborating the rumors.
Felicity couldn't help feeling like there was more to the story but she was too afraid of straying away from their mutual 'don't ask don't tell policy' to bring it up. Tommy, however, didn't seem to have the same hang up. One day in mid-October she overheard him and Oliver arguing at the lunch table.
"I thought we were best friends, man," Tommy said. "If you're sneaking off to Starling without me, fine. Just don't lie about it."
Oliver sat stiffly beside him. A fresh bruise, molted purple and blue, blossomed beneath the stubble along his jawline. "It's not like that," he said.
Tommy sneered. "What's it like Oliver?"
Oliver opened his mouth then closed it again.
"Yeah, that's what I thought." Tommy shoved away from the table so hard the dishes rattled. "Do what you want. But don't expect me to be hanging around when you finally decide that playing the loner asshole isn't as much fun as you thought it'd be."
That afternoon Oliver found Felicity where she sat beneath an old oak tree by the lake working on her French homework.
"Hi there," she said, shielding her eyes against the sun to look up at him. Lacework shadows slid languidly across the plush grass. The lake's glasslike surface was a perfect mirror image of the searing blue sky overhead.
"Hey." Oliver rubbed the toe of his oxford into the dirt, his hands stuffed into his pockets.
Felicity raised an eyebrow. "You wanna sit?"
Oliver barely seemed to hear her. He slumped to the ground and titled his head back against the tree trunk, his forearms resting limply on his knees. Felicity didn't have to be a rocket scientist to know he was upset about the argument with Tommy. She also knew he'd shut up like a clam if she tried to talk to him about it. So she waited.
A gentle breeze whispered through the fiery leaves above their heads. After a minute, Oliver sat forward, squinting into the distance, a deep furrow between his brows. "I'm not a very good friend, Felicity," he said. "Sometimes I'm not even sure if I'm a good person."
Felicity closed her book, frowning. "Well, that seems a little dramatic. But if you want to be better—" she shrugged "—there's always room for improvement, my mom would say. Of course, she would mean it in reference to how many tequila shots you can down before you puke all over your stilettoes. Not that you wear stilettoes. Not that there'd anything wrong with you wearing stilettoes. High heels were originally worn by men, you know, to make their calves look more shapely." Oliver raised an eyebrow. "But never mind that," Felicity said quickly, "The point is— if you want to be better, you can. You just have to know what you want and go for it."
"And if I don't know what I want?" Oliver's visible eye slid toward her. It was a deep blue whirlpool, threatening to suck her into its depths. A half-turned leaf, molted red and green, drifted down and settled atop Oliver's hair. Felicity plucked it free and rolled the stem between her fingers.
"Well. Then I guess you have to figure that out." She placed the splotchy leaf back on Oliver's head, smiling slightly. "A thinking cap. In case you need the extra brain power."
Oliver's drawn expression cracked an infinitesimal amount, his lips curling into a faint half smile. "Thanks," he said softly. It was barely a real smile, more like a shadow of one. But it was something. Felicity felt strangely proud for having been the cause of it.
"Any time," she said.
Oliver leaned back against the tree trunk, taking care not to dislodge the leaf from its precarious position. Two swans glided by, sending small ripples undulating through the reflection of a large cumulus cloud. "Are you going on the field trip this weekend?" Oliver asked.
"Ah, no." Felicity turned her eyes back to her book as she pushed an errant strand of hair out of her face. "I don't think so." At breakfast on Monday the headmaster had announced there would be a two day field trip to the StarLabs facility in downtown Starling that weekend. The trip was open to any interested students. The group would stay overnight in a hotel, tour the facility, and attend a Q&A with some of the top scientists and technological innovators in the country. The total cost of the trip was 300 dollars—mere pocket change to most Pembroke students.
Felicity didn't have to look at Oliver to know his eyebrows had shot up. "You're giving up a chance to go to StarLabs? That's gotta be like the holy grail for you tech-nerds. I figured you'd be stampeding first years to get to the front of the line."
"Yeah, it sounds cool. I just have a lot of work to do this weekend so..." She shrugged. Don't make me say it, Oliver.
Oliver frowned. "Oh, come on. You can't have that much work."
Of course he wouldn't catch the hint. "Oliver, you know I'm here on scholarship," Felicity said, purposefully avoiding his gaze.
His face fell. "Oh."
"Yeah. But it's fine," Felicity said, waving her hand as though missing the opportunity to visit StarLabs wasn't absolutely killing her inside. She flipped the page of her French textbook. She had no idea what she was reading. She had a better chance of teaching herself to walk on her hands than she had of becoming fluent in any language that was not English or a programming script. "This way I might not actually fail the French exam on Monday."
Oliver hesitated. "Felicity, you're going to say no but—"
Felicity glanced at him sharply. "No, Oliver."
The leaf slipped from his head as he sat up. "Look, just think of it as me finally paying you back for the tech support. At the risk of sounding like a self-entitled asshole, 300 dollars isn't that much money to me."
Felicity rolled her eyes. "You sound like a self-entitled asshole."
"Guilty. Look, if you don't use the money my sister's just going to spend it on jeans that are... what do they call it?" He shook his head. "Artfully ripped? I'd rather invest it in the future of mankind."
Felicity snorted. "What are you talking about?"
"You, of course." Oliver patted her on the knee. It was a brotherly gesture. Yet the contact left a warm tattoo on her skin. "You're going to do great things, Felicity Smoak."
"Oh, shut up," she groused. But he was wearing her down. Visiting StarLabs would be a dream come true. A beautiful solar-powered, cutting-edge technical dream. And it could be real. All she had to do was swallow her stupid pride.
"Fine," Felicity said. "But I'll owe you," she added quickly. "I'll owe you like a hundred favors."
"Which I will happily collect." Oliver grinned self-satisfactorily and held out his hand. "Pleasure doing business with you, Ms. Smoak"
Sara was already in the bathroom when Felicity went to brush her teeth that night. She glanced up from tweezing her eyebrows as Felicity set her facewash down on the counter beside her.
Sara smiled. "Hey, New Girl." Felicity had given up asking at what point she was going to stop being the new girl. The nickname had lost most of its original meaning by now; it was just what Nyssa and Sara called her.
Felicity smiled back. "Hey." She squeezed a line of toothpaste onto her brush. As she set to brushing, she could feel Sara's eyes continuously flicking over to glance at her.
Felicity bent over the sink to spit out the last bit of toothpaste. When she straightened up she turned to Sara. "Okay, what is it. You've been staring at me for the last five minutes like you just found out I have a terminal disease or something."
Sara bit her lip. "I wasn't going to say anything."
"Say anything about what?"
"It's just... you've been hanging out with Oliver a lot lately."
Felicity had a sinking feel. She had a feeling she knew where this was going. "Yeah, I guess so," she admitted.
"I'm just a little worried, is all."
"Sara," Felicity said. "You're the one who orchestrated me kissing him at the Burns."
Sara made a face that suggested she now regretted this very much. "I know! But my judgement was seriously impaired by whatever was in that jungle juice." She grimaced. "And honestly I didn't think it would turn into anything."
Felicity rolled her eyes. "It hasn't turned into anything. We're just friends."
"Yeah, well, Oliver's not really known for having platonic friendship with girls." Sarah tugged on the end of her ponytail. "Look, I'm not trying to tell you what to do, I swear. It's just ever since Oliver's been back he's acted really strange. Like strange even for someone who was stranded on an island for three years. Don't get me wrong, I'd probably be acting weird too if I'd been through what he did. But you're my friend, and whatever dark place Oliver's stuck in right now, I don't want to see you get sucked down there with him."
Felicity knew Sara's worry came from a good place, even if she herself believed it was unfounded. Her face softened. "Sara, I swear, nothing is happening there." She tried a joke. "I'm pretty sure I'm like a foot too short to be Oliver's type."
This didn't seem to comfort Sara. It actually made her look more pained. She seemed like she was about to say something, but then shook her head and thought better of it. Instead, she squeezed Felicity's hand. "New Girl, you're the best of us. You didn't grow up in this world with all the secrets and the manipulation and the lies. You've got a big heart. I just don't want to see it broken. So just be careful, okay?"
Felicity nodded slowly. "Okay," she said. "I will. I promise."
Later that night, Felicity stared up at the small sea of shadows caught in the canopy above her bed, Sara's words turning over and over in her mind. Not the part about Oliver. In that respect, Sara hadn't told Felicity much she didn't already know. Felicity could tell that the island haunted him. She had seen him with his other friends, how he always laughed half a second after everyone else as though he'd had to remind himself that was the proper response to a joke. And she was plenty aware of his revolving door of girls. Since she'd been at Pembroke he'd been with Laurel, McKenna, Helena, and who knew how many random models and socialites during the nights he spent in Starling.
No, what niggled at Felicity wasn't what Sara had had to say about Oliver; it was the part about her. Sara had said that she, Felicity, was the best of them. But Felicity knew that wasn't true. Sara had warned Felicity about the manipulation and lies of the Pembroke crowd as though they were foreign concepts to her when in reality Felicity knew herself to be far, far less than perfect. The fact that her friends apparently viewed her as some sort of paradigm of goodness made her feel like she was living a lie. Well aren't you? sneered a small voice in the back of her head. I never lied about who I am, the rest of her protested. No, agreed the voice, just about how you got here.
Ugh. Felicity rolled onto her side just in time to be distracted from her guilt by the sight of the yellow beam from Oliver's headlight bounding down the driveway before fading into the darkness as his motorcycle crested a hill. He was probably off to Starling to get busy with some model in possession of legs the length of Felicity's entire body. Felicity felt a stab of something she couldn't quite place. It wasn't jealousy, or even annoyance. The word longing popped into her mind but she quickly dismissed it as a possibility. Friends didn't long for each other. And that's what she and Oliver were: friends. Felicity flopped onto her back, huffing a small sigh of discontent.
Eventually, exhaustion began to tug at her eyelids. When, sometime later, she finally did fall asleep, Felicity dreamt of crashing waves and wheeling carrion birds. A life boat drifted in the distance, in an oasis of stillness surrounding by roiling ocean. And in the boat stood Felicity's father, watching with an indiscernible expression as the tide slowly pulled her under.