❦ WINNER OF THE RIVETING WRITING CONTEST ❦
OLIVER IS DYING
With only months left to live at just seventeen, Oliver spends his remaining days of endless tests and debilitating drugs in the St. Andrews paediatrics ward planning his impending funeral...
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THE Fourth of July.
Independence Day.
My birthday.
And I'm dreading it.
The big one-eight. In 122 countries, I'm legal. In that many countries, I can drink, smoke and vote.
But even graduating from childhood to walk the lovely halls of adulthood, I still feel miserable.
Maybe it's because I have to spend it in a hospital room, or that I can't spend it with my parents since they're spending the weekend back home in Montauk.
Or maybe it's because I haven't seen Nick in over two weeks.
He's been avoiding me. I suppose I've been avoiding him as well. I don't blame him for doing it. I know why he is. I get that he needs his space after what happened on the roof.
Bobbi and Simon have been keeping me posted on when he's around to see Frankie. I've kept to myself, hiding away in my room or elsewhere if he happens to pass by.
I can't help but feel our friendship's tarnished now.
I ruined it.
But...But he leaned in too, right? I'm certain he did.
I smack my head back in frustration against the wall I'm leaning against, my feet dangling off the edge of my bed. I glance down at the polaroid photograph in my hand I took of Nick and I when we first properly met.
We'll laugh about this someday.
I'm sure as hell not laughing right now.
A knock at the door startles me, and I shove the polaroid under my pillow. "Yeah?"
Frankie's blonde hair catches my eye as she cranes around the door. "Hi."
"Hey," I beam.
My worries suddenly falling away. It's nice to see her.
"Come in."
Frankie creeps inside and sits on the bed next to me. I watch her wring her hands, folding them over each other again and again.
She needs to ask me something, but she doesn't know how to.
"Are you okay?" she finally asks.
"Why is everyone asking me that?" I grumble. "I'm fine."
"I guess I'm asking because you and my brother aren't hanging out as much anymore." She shoots me a pointed look. "What's going on between you two?"
"Nothing." A complete lie. "He's been busy."
There's nothing really going on between Nick and I if you look at the big picture of it. Nothing that matters, that is. I have nothing to hide.
But I have this feeling in the pit of my stomach that Nick wants whatever's going on in our friendship—if we still have a friendship—to stay on the down-low. I could be wrong, but I'd rather not throw him under the bus to find out, nor do it at all.
