Miles Hollingsworth, a grade 12 bisexual, billionaire, "bad boy " more than the boyfriend of the girl in the accident.
Olivia Pomegray, a grade 11 hopeless romantic, rich, "good girl", now with even more trauma than before.
The third series of Degr...
The rest of the summer Olivia recovered. From physio to speech to cognitive therapy. I was there for it all. I had never been a patient person; it took days before she could even talk again. But the tiny precious milestones made it all worth it.
It was kind of funny. Her first word had been 'please'
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I had shown up one day with two coffees from the dot, I thought it would have been a sweet surprise for her because her nasal cannula had finally been taken off as well as her morphine and I figured she'd need an extra pick me up. I didn't even check if it was even allowed.
When her eyes saw the coffee she went wide-eyed, hopeful.
'Uh uh uh Olive, you can only have it if you say the magic word.' I had teased, little did I know her and her speech therapist had held their own joke.
'Please.' She had whispered, her voice small and dusty. Both the coffees had fallen to the floor and had created a brown puddle that I had to wade through to come over to her.
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"You're amazing." I confirmed leaning over her.
And she was, from then on, she continued to astound and amaze. I had filmed her first step, the nurse had got her to the walking frame and then she had gone solo from there. One foot in front of the other like the true badass she is. I put it online and everyone went mad. My phone would not stop buzzing for days. It wasn't THE perfect summer we'd planned but it was OUR perfect summer, and to top it all off, three days before school started, right in time for her birthday, she came home.
Olivia's POV:
'Miles!' I waved my hands around as he put a scarf around my eyes as a blindfold.
'Sorry, no can do. Emily said it was non-negotiable.' He replied into my ear from behind and felt at my shoulders.
'Fine but I am never going to make it into the house, there are steps remember. We hate steps.' I answered pointing madly to we, being my left and my right feet. They were placed into the foot holders of my wheelchair. I could walk a little way now, but steps still defeated me, and I got tired easily. I wish I had hit the gym more before all of this.
