How Olivia Happened

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 1



DYLAN'S POV

The school gates clicked shut behind me with a sound that felt way too dramatic for a Tuesday afternoon.Two hours in detention. Two hours of silence, a ticking clock, and the smell of dry-marker and expired ambition. All because one not-so-sensible person thought passing a note during Chemistry was a good idea.

And guess who got caught holding it?

I sighed, shoving my hands into my jacket pockets and heading down the street. Home was at least twenty minutes away, but I didn't mind the walk. After sitting in a room with peeling walls and flickering lights, I needed the air.

"Dylan!"

Here we go again.

I sighed-deep, dramatic, theatrical. My jaw tightened. I didn't turn around. I just shoved my hands deeper into my jacket pockets and kept walking. Fast.AirPods in, volume? Zero. The music was fake. They were just my excuse not to engage. A weak little forcefield against her.

"Dylaaan... wait up!"

God. She was catching up.

I could hear the slap-slap of her shoes against the pavement. Her footsteps were the soundtrack of doom-loud, determined, and way too cheerful for someone I was actively trying to escape. In the back of my mind, I was like, Run for it. But of course, I didn't because I didn't want to look like an idiot.

Yeah. Olivia.

If karma was real, I was definitely paying for something.

It started a few weeks ago-one weird moment in chemistry class, a shared joke I didn't even laugh at, and somehow she decided we were friends. I've been trying to shake her off ever since.

Spoiler: she's very shake-resistant.

"Hey, didn't you hear me calling you?" she asked, panting like she just ran a marathon but still smiling. Always smiling. Like we were best friends.
I didn't stop walking. Just flicked her a sideways glance. "What do you want?"

"Thought I could walk with you."

God help me.

"I'm not in the mood for small talk," I muttered.

"I'll keep quiet, I swear," she said, holding up two fingers like she was making a sacred oath.

I didn't respond. Silence, my only weapon.

She kept up anyway, matching my pace like we were in sync or something.

A full minute passed. No words. Huh. That was new.

Maybe-just maybe-she was actually going to shut up. Maybe she was finally getting it. And then-

"The weather's so nice, right?" she chirped.

I stopped walking. Briefly. It was dramatic, I'll admit. Then I kept going.
"I thought we agreed: no talking."

"I know, I know," she said, completely unfazed. "Just trying to be friendly."

Friendly.

I tried to ignore her, but Olivia was like a mosquito at midnight-annoying, unavoidable, and immune to swatting. I sometimes wanted to ask her why. Why she kept showing up. Why she kept pushing. Why she didn't just go away.

But I already knew.

She didn't need a reason. She just... did things. Said things. Got into people's lives and tangled herself in their threads like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And somehow, she'd done it to me.

"Don't tell me you're still mad about the detention thing," she said, like it was funny. Like she hadn't ruined my entire Tuesday afternoon.

I stopped again, slower this time. Looked her dead in the eye.

"I spent two hours in that room. Doing nothing. For a note I didn't even get to read. So no-I'm not just mad. I'm furious."

She raised her eyebrows. "I apologized three times already."

"Four."

That made her laugh. "You're keeping count?"

"Of course I am," I snapped.

"You're so dramatic."

I gave her a long stare. The kind that usually makes people back off. Not her, though. No, Olivia just smiled even bigger.

"Out of curiosity, do you have some loose screws?"

She just grinned like I'd paid her a compliment.

I scoffed, and looked away. She didn't even get it.

I picked up my pace. Faster. The sooner we reached her street, the sooner she'd be out of my life-for the day, at least.

But Olivia? She adjusted her bag and kept up, still smiling. Still here.

Of course she did.

We walked, but today's walk felt longer than usual. Heavier. Maybe it was the silence. Or maybe just her presence .We finally rounded to her street. She just threw out a casual, "Bye," like none of it mattered, like she hadn't just haunted my afternoon.

I didn't answer. Just kept walking. I lived on the next street over. Few minutes apart, even during school holidays. No escape. School was something I was just trying to survive. The noise. The people. The work. Everything. But this was my final year. The end was close, and with it, the suffering.

I never had much in the way of relationships at school. Not that I needed them. People weren't... invested in me. And I wasn't surprised. Most couldn't handle the truth of life. Couldn't handle the way I saw things.

I've been told I'm cold. Less sympathetic. Distant.

Maybe I am.

But what people don't get is-Some of us are just trying to survive the fire without pretending it's warm.

Like today. Take that detention, for example.

(flashback begins)

It was the third period. Chemistry. The kind of class where even your thoughts could get you in trouble if Mr. Kline decided he didn't like your face that day. I was sitting in the back, minding my own business-until a crumpled paper ball smacked the side of my desk. I didn't even move to pick it up. That should've been the end of it.

But Kline, with his hawk eyes and personal vendetta, stormed down the aisle like he'd just found a criminal.

"What's that?" he barked.

Before I could say a word, he snatched it up, read the stupid doodle out loud-some ridiculous sketch of him with devil horns-and boom. Detention.

I hadn't even opened the note. Olivia had tossed it, aiming for me, but it hit the floor first. She tried to speak up-"It was mine"-but Kline just narrowed his eyes at both of us.

"Is it?" he said slowly, then smiled. "Fine. You can both go."

That smug smile he gave me-like he was glad to do it-told me everything I needed to know. It was never about the note.

(flashback ends)

So yeah. Two hours. Wasted. Just me and a ticking clock in that silent, grey room. All because Olivia couldn't help herself. And now she wants to act like it's a joke.

If I could, I'd have her transported overseas-first flight out. One-way. No return.

Far away from my life, my peace, my last nerve.

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