Love, Olivia

(1) 980

The bell rang, dismissing the class, and Ophelia gathered up her things quickly, shoving her notebook into her backpack because she didn't want to risk anybody trying to steal it from her again.

 "Everybody have a wonderful rest of your day!" Sang Ms. Heather. "Don't forget that you have an assignment due on Friday, which is two days from now. I'd like to hear poems about something you miss! Be melancholy, nostalgic. I want to feel your memories!"

 Ophelia smiled politely, nodding to show she heard and hurried out the classroom door. Walking past the poster lined walls, she turned left and made for her locker, looking around to make sure nobody was around to harass her. Students spilled from classrooms around her, and since she didn't spot a gaggle of girls dressed in pink and overpriced clothes, she felt temporarily safe. 

Finally, Ophelia allowed her mind to turn to the events of earlier. Olivia tormented her, like always, but stealing her personal property and reading her private thoughts were beyond unacceptable. She had never reported the bullying, but maybe she should. Maybe she wouldn't have to worry about her feelings being published or made fun of for who she liked. She couldn't help she liked Olivia. She didn't want to, but her smile was just so wide and sweet, her hair a honeyed blonde. Those big green eyes were pools of liquid emerald she could swim in. Somehow it was as if that made up for her pushing Ophelia around.

She wondered if a bully was who Olivia really was, or if it was influence of her friends around her.
Lost in her thoughts, she opened her locker and a slice of lined paper slipped from her shelf and settled by her feet. She crouched down and unfolded it, quickly scanning over the penned words.

 "I really am sorry. Here's my phone number. Please text me," she whispered to herself quietly.
It was signed Olivia. "No way," she muttered.

Ophelia quickly shoved the note into her back pocket and brushed herself off, glancing around quickly. Towards the end of the hall, a circle of pinks, baby blues, and whites crowded together.

 "Shit. Don't see me, don't see me, please. You're invisible, totally not here," she whispered quietly to herself like a mantra. 

"Hey, Girl Crush!" A female voice called.

Ophelia looked at them and caught sight of one pretending to gag on her finger. Olivia stood there laughing but her eyes were softer than usual. Ophelia groaned and rushed down the hallway to the busses.

Safe on the bus bound for her stop, Ophelia curled up in the corner if her seat, converse-covered toes touching and shoulder leaning on the window. She unfolded the note and read over the number. They were just numbers. Simple numbers. They shouldn't be this scary.

What should I say? She thought, stressing over how this conversation could go.

Typing the number into her phone, Ophelia stared at it for a solid two minutes before finally putting words to screen.

 It's Ophelia. What do you want.

She hit send before she lost her nerve only to realize she put a period instead of a question mark.

"It's fine, it's fine, it's fine. You're fine, everything's fine," she muttered. Ugh, fuck anxiety. 

It was ten minutes later when they reached her street that her phone buzzed.

Can I call you?

Ophelia slid out of her seat and walked slowly as she reread the text.

"Have a good day, hun," her bus driver said and she nodded silently, climbing down the steps.

I don't have to respond immediately. She can wait. She's mean to me.