Alive

Chapter 13

Oliver

(Saturday, May 11)

"Come on, Kyle," I call, zipping up my backpack. "We're leaving."

Part of me doesn't want to go. Things were just starting to get fun when the call came through. Saturday morning came with a golden sun and a foggy mist over the sea. Salty waves, tiny sea creatures scuttling about, and sand all over Kyle and I as we ran along the shore. But cops have been crawling around the area the past few days, and I'd probably get arrested if they found my hideout. So I guess this is better, even if I could see myself living the rest of my life in my cave.

Kyle's wagging his tail. He's been happy all morning, and it's contagious. I can't help but smile as he jumps through the cave entrance, bounding through the trees like he's still a puppy. Then he waits for me, watching me drop down and gather my blanket in my arms. There's less to carry, and the hike is downhill, so we have fun with it. Take our time as we make our way back to the car.

There's a spring in my step, recalling Elle's phone call over and over. The way she worked herself up over the course of a few days. She's so dramatic. Usually that's a bad thing in my opinion, but right now it's fascinating. Because it's the first time a girl's been dramatic over me. Besides, it also makes for great scriptwriting, and I can't wait to see what kinds of things she's come up with since Monday.

It's still early. The fog hasn't cleared, and sunlight streaks through it from the trees. But it's easy to find my car. Hard to miss, with the yellow stripes. Kyle's already at the passenger side, and I jog to catch up. Then I slow down.

Someone's in it. I stop, squinting to make sure it's not a bum or something. I thought I left it locked, but I guess a broken window would defeat the purpose. Oh. He's shifted, leaning forward, and now I see his hair. Damn it, Arlo. What's he doing here?

I haven't listened to his messages. Or read his texts. Actually, I deleted them. I told him to leave me alone. Because that's what he wants. But I guess Arlo must be confused or something, 'cause now he's in my car.

I step closer, until I'm at the window, deciding what to do. I'll have to talk to him, right? Maybe I need to be a bigger asshole. Make him hate me. He cares too much.

I'm about to open the door when he moves. Sits up a bit, and suddenly I can't breathe. Like the wind's been knocked out of me. 'Cause there's a gun in Arlo's hand, and it's shaking in his grasp. One foot's on the dash, his forehead resting against his knee. And I can't move. Just stare, and stare, and stare.

He's looking at the pistol, and I can see a glistening trail of tears on his cheek. Birds were chirping a moment ago, but right now it's silent. The forest is cold. The mist is eerie. And Arlo is going to shoot himself.

I think. He keeps raising the gun halfway, then setting it back down. I want to stop him. I need to stop him. But what if I scare him? What if he sees me and it sends him over the edge? I've never had this happen. Something like this, while wearing this personality. And it fucking sucks.

Because I start laughing. Like when you're a kid, and you see something horrible with your friends. Someone makes a dirty joke, and you just lose it. You know it's not funny. You know you're a dick. Maybe it's at a funeral, maybe just a story about someone's trauma. The kind of thing where adults say "this is no laughing matter" and you nod because you fucking know it isn't, but it just makes your face redder, the laughter more uncontrollable.

I try to keep it quiet, because the truth is my heart's pounding and I'm gonna vomit. I think. But now Arlo's moving again. He's lifting his head, turning it, and then our eyes meet. I need to run. I need to get out of here. I'm gonna fuck this up so fast. Maybe I already have. But his eyes are like chains, rooting me to the ground. There're tears swimming in them, shock, hurt. Everything I never wanted to see in Arlo.