Chapter 3

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Olive stumbled around her room, tripping over books and piles of discarded laundry. Her head still pounded from Maddie Lesman's graduation party the night before, and the Advil's she'd been downing all day didn't seem to be doing shit. She felt gagged by her hangover, and her whole body felt like Jell-O.

Maybe that fifth shot of vodka wasn't the way to go.

Her room was a mess, and she was no help for the cleanup, throwing around t-shirts and pants until they littered the entirety of her wood paneled floor. In this moment, Olive probably would've resembled a city rat, digging through the trash cans of the New York City subway. Except, her trash can was her closet, and her rotting pizza slice at the bottom of it all was her damn bathing suit.

She sighed in triumph as she let her body fall against the bed behind her, letting out an aggressive breath. She pulled out the small heap of dark blue fabric from a pile of shirts that had accumulated in her rampage. Olive grabbed at a pair of jeans shorts on the floor next to her and used her arms to push herself up from the ground.

Olive wiggled on the bikini and threw her shorts on over, not bothering to find a shirt. She stretched the hair tie on her wrist over her hand and brought it behind her head, pulling back her hair in a messy ponytail. She purposely let some pieces hang out of the ponytail, framing her face . . . and to cover up the forehead.

A little canvas bag laid on top of her bed. She had previously thrown whatever she thought she'd need for the night in there. You know, like Chapstick, deodorant, nips, the essentials. Leaning over and grabbing the bag, she picked her phone up from where it sat beside.

Bringing the screen into view, Olive almost immediately let out a groan. A little message with the words "3 missed calls from Nat Cat" showed brightly. She clicked on the message immediately, hitting the little phone icon and letting her phone ring.

Brrrinn-

Her phone barely got through one ring before Natalie picked up.

"Hey-"

"Why the fuck weren't you answering my calls?"

"I was looking for my bathing suit, chill."

"Ok well it's on. Are you on your way?"

"I'm leaving right now."

At those words Olive brought her shoulder up, using it to balance her phone against her ear without her hands. She leaned over her bed again, grabbing the canvas bag from where it had been thrown. Its contents rumbled against each other at the sudden movement.

"Hurry your ass up, we're meeting at Pilot's Point."

"Ok, ok I'll be there in a few minutes."

"Alright, bye bitch."

Just like that Natalie hung up the call from the other end of the line. Olive grabbed at her phone, taking it away from its spot squished between her ear and shoulder and threw it in her bag. It was like playing on steppingstones, trying to walk around the mess she had made on her floor. Hobbling her way over to the window beside her dresser, Olive ran her fingers along the bottom of the wood that framed the glass.

The world outside the window was dark with the late hours of the night. Stars spotted the sky like little freckles and the moon shone high above. Olive pressed her hands against the window frame, pushing up and sliding the window open.

A loud creak caused her to momentarily stop, mumbling "fuck" before continuing on, slower, as to not alert any suspicious ears nearby. The window slid up until it was a decent way open. A decent, climbable way open.

Olive Harper was sneaking out.

Except, that wasn't what had her stomach in a knot. It was where she was going that made the hairs on her arm perk up ever so slightly. She'd been to Pilot's Point more times than she could count, had picnics there, went to the yearly bonfire, even joined in on a few smoke circles by the water, but this time. . . it was different. There were very different intentions behind tonight. Intentions that could lead to her future.

Those intentions were Panic.

Olive had known about the game since she was a freshman, and for four years she teetered on the thought of if she'd play or not when the time came. She and her friends would joke around and make wise-cracks about winning, and then switch up and talk about how stupid it was. Panic always seemed fake. Obviously, they all knew it was real. By hell, two kids died from it last year. But Panic was the sort of thing that always seemed far away, like there was always a grade above you to play it, forever waiting your turn.

And yet here she was, climbing out her window, to go play Panic.

Climbing out her window, to possibly die.

No. Olive didn't want to think about that. If she ever wanted to get out of Carp, and not end up back here, probably working for her stepdad's business, this was the only way. The prize money from Panic was basically her plane ticket out, and she was practically already packed.

Pulling her leg through the open window, Olive steadied herself on the roof. She made sure to close the window behind her, leaving it cracked for when she came back. The roof over-hung her front porch, which actually made the whole "sneaking out" thing pretty convenient. Gripping on to her bag, she walked down the slant of the roof with bent knees, headed for the edge.

Olive sat on her butt, letting her legs dangle over the side. The shillings on the roof poked at her legs as they hung. She used her arms to roll herself on to her stomach, grabbing hold of the edge and lowering herself until her whole body swung from the roof.

There was still about two feet of space between her feet and the ground as she hung. The shillings that once nipped at her legs now jutted into her gripping fingers. She let her fingers slip off, her body falling towards the ground. She landed on the grass beneath with a soft thud. Catching her balance, Olive didn't waste a second. She turned her body away from the house, and began her walk . . .

towards Panic.


A/N-

Hey boo thangs, so like I know this is taking a bit but I pinky swear Dodge will be in the next chapter.  I actually have time to write this shit now so you guys are gonna get get spoiled in the next few days (kisses kisses mwah mwah)


Late Night Talking ~ Dodge MasonWhere stories live. Discover now