Scarface (original novel)

XVI.II

Ella woke me up at seven the next morning. She knocked hard on the door and I started awake, only to angrily shut my eyes when I saw her sallow face peeking into my room. 

"Charlie? I wanna talk to you for a minute before you go to school," she said with almost a bit of panic in her voice. Almost like she cared about my response. 

I remembered Dad's face the night before and his disappointed expression when I refused to speak to her. I took an exaggerated deep breath and sat up in my bed. "Yeah, fine." 

Ella practically skipped into the room and perched herself on the edge of my bed. "Your father and I talked a lot last night and I'm really proud of you," she gave me a crooked smile. I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, I've been helping paying for your habit and cleaning you up when you come home from days of bullshit!" I cried, and Ella flinched, but I didn't feel anything. I couldn't when it came to her. 

Ella slid forward a little bit on the bed and looked into my eyes. "He told me you've been doing well with therapy and you went on a date with a girl from Loci and you're making friends with people different from you and your grades are soaring.." She trailed off with a large smile. "You can take my car to school. I love you, Charlie," she got up and straightened her blouse, and then left with one more warm smile. 

I let out a breath and stared at the wall for a moment to banish the awkwardness that Ella just made. She couldn't be proud of any of the things I did when she didn't even know me. It was impossible. 

Confused and slightly angry, I got dressed in jeans and a teeshirt showing a band I vaguely remember Olivia Camille mentioning. Of course, I didn't notice I put on the shirt and when I did I internally groaned. Even my subconscious was obsessed with her. 

I grabbed my bag and went for my phone that I'd thrown on my desk when I noticed the concealer and single volume of Tokyo Summer of The Dead. I'd ripped off the bag and looked at them like mementos from another world, which was partially true. The world of The Ridge Gang was totally different than my own, and I was lucky to experience a bit of it. 

My parents low voices could be hear in their rooms as I walked past, but I paid no mind. As odd as it was that my mother was sober for a few hours, I knew it wouldn't last long and, like my time with Olivia, things would go back to the way they always were when the dust settled. 

I grabbed the keys to my mother's faded gold coupe on the way out the door and tried to remember how things used to be, because when I felt the Missouri air hit my face everything was suddenly normal again. The air was cold and dry like there was never a storm and I hadn't kissed Olivia Camille and I'd never witnessed a driveby. Normally, I would get into my mother's car and text Gregory and when he told me if he was at the school or how far away he was, I'd say how far away I was and then crank up my overplayed Marina And The Diamonds CD. And I did that, singing along to Can't Pin Me Down and skipping Solitaire like always because at first it was my favorite but then I played it too much. 

I pulled up next to Gregory's buick and sat back in my seat to wait, though it only lasted a second because immediately after I turned off the engine, my car door was thrown open and I was yanked out of the seat by my waist. 

"Scarbucks! Where the hell have you been, asshole?" Gregory yelled once I was on my feet. His warm blue eyes were wide and pupils the size of dimes. I shook his hands off m hips and turned away to get my bag out of the car. "Places." 

Greg grabbed my wrist and made me face him again. "Ridge Gang places? Because that's the only explanation for what's going on right now," he pressed, only to have me roll my eyes. Everyone was being so mysterious lately, it was pissing me off. 

"What's going on, Greg?" I asked sarcastically. He pointed at a blood red convertible parked next to Brent Romero's hearse that, surprisingly, held no one and was free of the Gang it transported. "Do you know who's car that is?" Greg implored in hushed tones. I shruged my shoulders. "Probably an asshole's. No one wants a convertible in this weather, they probably only have it to show o-" "it's Kendyl Coan's," Greg cut me off. "She came with Sofia Jimenez like, half an hour after Olivia Camille and Brent Romero and Jackson Fox did. They all are in the school right now and Walter said Jackson Fox is in his first period right fucking now," he informed me in one breath. My jaw dropped open. I hadn't planned on seeing her ever again but a sudden realization downed on me. "Holy... Greg, I've gotta go. I'll see you in art," I quaked, and took off  into the familiar halls of Staley with a stutter in my heart only one person could bring. 

Everyone loved Mr. Pfaffengut. Quite simply, he wanted to fix the less fortunate kids at our school who would grow up to be drug dealers and pimps and drug users and prostitutes and knew it, so he taught life lessons while he did American history. He understood the kids and cut them slack and helped them when he thought they deserved it. He was my first period and I adored every second but there was one thing about this class I forgot until that day. 

I stormed in and though there was still at least ten minutes left before the first bell, a few students sat in their desks and scribbled down the vocabulary question Mr. Pfaffengut had in the beginning of every class. And in the back, directly next to my desk where'd I'd carved a pentagram, sat Olivia Camille in a tea colored sweater and blue jeans. She was writing in a notes journal like the rest of the class, like she was normal. She even had a faux leather backpack sitting next to her feet. 

When I entered, she looked up and smiled. A genuine smile pure and decent and not dangerous or wolfish. It was scary though, seeing that as it was so out of place. 

Hesitantly, I sat down at my desk and pulled out my journal, but I wasn't ging to act like this was all normal. I wasn't that self restrained. 

"Why are you here?" I hissed to Olivia Camille. She pushed up her glasses on her nose, but didn't look at me. She continued to write. 

"I don't really know. They say you don't really find your purpose until you're at least in your late thirties but I believe, like Dan Howell once said, the reason we are alive is to be ha-" I shook my head and groaned. She was playing me and she knew it. "No, at school! I know this isn't how you usually spend your Mondays, Olivia," I barked. She shrugged. "Wanted to play at being normal for a day. I'm even dressed normal," she kicked her foot, which wore a pair of brown boots, into the air. I shook my head again. "That's stupid. You're not normal," I insisted. 

Olivia Camille finally turned to me with green in her eyes and her eyebrows raised. "You like being around me don't you?" She demanded. I felt a blush come on and my mind turned into a flurry. "I guess so?" I trembled. Olivia nodded and looked back down. "Then don't question this. You can trust me, Scarbucks," she stated, but I wasn't completely sure that was true.

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