Separate Like Stars

by Diana Kane

  “I was only there for a few years, so I hadn’t planned to visit. We’ve moved around a lot.”

  “Oh,” Olivia says, her smile fading. “Does that mean we shouldn’t bother becoming best friends? It would suck if we did and you moved again.”

  “I don’t know. I’d rather not change schools again before we graduate, but my mom is a bit unpredictable.” I shake my head as I finish my lunch. “Besides, I’m probably only this fascinating because I’m all shiny and new. Give it a few weeks, and you’ll laugh at the notion of me displacing your best friend.”

  “Nah, we’re going to be best friends, I can tell,” she retorts without further explanation. “Anyway, we should get moving. The bell is going to ring in a few.” We both stand up, and Olivia grabs my arm before leaning in to whisper in my ear. “Remember starting at the far end and moving clockwise it was Jen, Mike, Danielle, Jennifer, Kristy, David, Mark, and Erica.”

  “Thanks,” I whisper to her, after repeating the names in sequence three times. “It was nice meeting all of you,” I call out as Olivia begins to drag me away from the table.

  Chapter 3

  “My mom wants me to invite you over for dinner,” Olivia informs me as soon as I close the car door. We’re a week into the school year, and as Olivia predicted, we’ve become fast friends. I guess having all the same classes, sharing a ride to and from school, similar tastes in music, and being neighbors will do that.

  “No problem. I’m sure my mom is going to want to meet you soon anyway. Especially since you’ve been giving me rides and everything.”

  “And everything?” she questions, before backing out of my driveway.

  “Yeah, you know. She asks how I’m doing at the new school; like this is the first new school I’ve gone to or something. She wanted to know who was giving me a ride, how classes were, all of that. I think she knows that she really pissed me off with this last move and she’s trying. I just need time, which thankfully I’m getting since she works nights now.”

  “So you aren’t close?”

  “We are. I think she senses I’m a bit fed up though.” I barely hear Olivia’s contemplative hum over the music.

  “This school and town aren’t all that bad, you know. I mean, we have full access to all the AP courses thanks to the community college, we have a coffee shop, a video rental store, a small movie theatre, a pizza place slash ice cream shop, and a diner.” I want to argue that I had all of those things and so much more in the city, but I refrain.

  “I know. But the quiet and the privacy are strange, and the lack of public transportation is hindering.” I glance over and observe the strange expression on Olivia’s face, reminding me that we don’t know each other as well as it feels like we do. “Meeting you has certainly been unexpected.”

  “Unexpectedly good, I hope,” she says with a sideways glance at me.

  “Yes, of course,” I assure her through a chuckle.

  “Good,” she says as she turns to smile at me as we wait at the only stoplight in town. Yes, one stoplight. Even the intersections that dot Main Street are controlled via stop signs. “You should come to dinner tonight. I have to work Friday and Saturday night.”

  “You work?”

  “At the video store,” she answers as her head bobs a few times. “It’s easy work, but the pay is crap. I do get all the free rentals I want though. Plus the owner is totally relaxed and doesn’t care if I have a friend hang out with me, as long as I keep the store in order and customers don’t have to wait for help.” Olivia returns her focus to the road when the light turns green, starting the last mile of the trip to school. “We can study there anytime we want. I know I’m going to need all the help I can get wading through math and chemistry.”

  “Chemistry is mostly math,” I inform her with a chuckle. “I can help you with those in exchange for help in psychology. And all right to the other stuff.” Even after a week I sometimes struggle to keep up with Olivia’s questions and suggestions, her mouth often running at speeds my mind can’t seem to match.

  “We have a deal. All right to what though? Dinner or the store stuff?”

  “Both, I guess,” I answer as we pull into the parking lot.

  *****

  “My parents won’t be home for at least another hour. I usually start dinner, so you’re welcome to come over now, or you can come by later. Up to you,” Olivia finishes as we walk into the small supermarket that supplies the town’s inhabitants with their sustenance.

  “You can cook?” I ask as I gape at Olivia in complete shock.

  “I’m not a professional chef, but I do all right. It’s fun,” she adds with a shrug. “Spaghetti and meatballs sound good?”

  “Yeah. I’m pretty easy to please. I would’ve just had a sandwich or something if I were eating at home tonight.”

  “Oh, and garlic bread. We need to grab a loaf of bread so we can make garlic bread.”

  “Of course,” I say and laugh, surprised that she’s making the bread instead of buying one of the frozen, ready to bake loaves.

  An hour and a half later, Olivia has taught me how to make meatballs, marinara sauce from scratch and prep the perfect garlic butter to spread on the bread before we toast it in the oven. I watch her work, totally mesmerized, oblivious to the song we have blaring on the stereo.

  “Mom, we’re listening to that,” Olivia stops working and protests when the volume suddenly drops a few decibels.

  “I assumed, but it doesn’t have to be so loud,” the prompt reply comes, the voice oddly familiar. “Do you have a guest?” the disembodied voice asks, the strengthening volume letting me know its owner is nearing. “Jordan! I’m glad you could join us for dinner.” I turn towards Olivia’s mom and stare in stunned silence as I register Olivia’s quiet chuckling behind me. “You didn’t tell her, did you?” she directs at Olivia.

  “I tried,” she answers through another bout of laughter. “I didn’t want it to be weird though.” Olivia takes a minute to compose herself before continuing. “Jordan, I believe you know my mom…” I don’t wait for Olivia to finish before I slide off of my barstool and cross the room to hug her.

  “Your last names…they aren’t the same,” I manage to stammer.

  “They’re not. I’m not married to Olivia’s biological father, another fact she probably didn’t bother to share,” she answers as she shoots a displeased look at Olivia.

  “It’s all right. I’m glad I get to see you again. I’ll always owe you a lot. I hated not knowing about the move so I could thank you and say goodbye.”

  “You don’t owe me anything, Jordan. You did that all on your own,” she answers before giving me a quick pat on the back.

  “Thanks, Mrs. O’Connor, but we’ll have to agree to disagree. Hey, Mr. O’Connor,” I greet Olivia’s stepfather, the history teacher at Waterford.

  “Now that we’re neighbors, do try to call us Jim and Rene,” Mrs. O’Connor requests.

  “Ok, Mrs. O’Connor,” I immediately reply. “Oops. That’s going to take some getting used to,” I inform her as I struggle to fight the feeling that I’ve incorrectly answered a question in one of her classes. I turn to see Olivia watching us, her expression full of curiosity.

  “Right…well this isn’t weird or anything,” Olivia mutters before returning her attention to the sauce pot on the stove.

  *****

  “What’s up with you and my mom?” Olivia asks as we hang out in her room after dinner. My eyes dart everywhere as I try to take my new surroundings. Posters for Labyrinth, Space Balls, The Princess Bride, Pulp Fiction and various bands and artists cover the walls. The desk in the corner sports a container of art supplies and a newer Macintosh Powerbook. A television rests on top of her dresser along with a VHS player. The sound of Olivia clearing her throat draws my eyes away from her video collection and my attention back to her.

  “So I’ve told you that we’ve moved around a lot and you’ve clearly known that your mom used to be one of my teachers.” Oli
via nods but waits for me to continue. “I was assigned to your mom’s class my first year at Waterford. I was furious about being relocated again and in complete rebellion. I stopped making any effort when it came to school. I spent all my time at school writing or sleeping. Most teachers couldn’t have cared less, but your mom was an exception. She checked my records and knew I was capable of getting good grades. When I refused to talk to her, she threatened to take my notebook. My stories were in there, so having it confiscated wasn’t an option. They were the only thing I really cared about at the point. Over time she ended up becoming a mentor of sorts. She’d critique my stories, make suggestions, help me with progression and flow. I don’t know, in some ways, I feel like she saved me from myself. I was falling in with a bad crowd. She took an interest, helped me with something I was passionate about, and guided me away from the people I should have avoided altogether. By the time I left Waterford, one of the girls was pregnant, three of them had been expelled, and another had been arrested.” I shake my head as I think about the fates of those girls, fates that I could have shared. “I feel as if I owe her a debt that I’ll never be able to repay. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I was going to,” Olivia sighs. “It’s not like I knew the first day of school. I only found out late last week when I mentioned your name and mom asked who you were. She realized who you must be right away, and asked me to keep an eye on you.”

  “So the rides and you being nice—.”

  “No,” Olivia interrupts me. “I offered all of that before I knew. I didn’t know you thought of my mom that way. She never told me anything other than you were her student at Waterford.” The silence stretches on between us as the Foo Fighters quietly play on the radio. “Is that what you want to do? Be a writer?”

  “I don’t know what I want to do. I enjoy it, but I’m not sure how practical it is to believe that I could ever support myself as an author.” Deep down, I know that it’s what I want to do for a living, but realistically I know I need to have a better option. “What about you? Are you considering art school?”

  “Maybe, but it’s sorta like writing isn’t it? I really love cooking as well, and making food is like creating art, in a way. I don’t know,” she says as she shrugs her shoulders. “We still have time to figure it out.”

  “Yeah, we do,” I agree as a soft knock sounds from Olivia’s door.

  “What,” Olivia calls out before the door opens part way.

  “Jordan you’re very welcome here anytime, but if you two have any homework, you’d better get it done,” Mrs. O’Connor warns us.

  “We did it already,” Olivia quickly responds and makes a shooing motion with her hand.

  “You’re welcome to stay,” she says to me. “I want you in bed at a reasonable hour though. You have school in the morning,” she reminds us as she closes the door.

  “Was she that annoying at school?” Olivia asks as she rolls her eyes.

  “She cares. It’s nice,” I reply.

  “Yeah,” Olivia sarcastically replies, letting me know she doesn’t necessarily agree. “Do you want to stay?”

  “I should go home and see my mom. She has to work the next three nights so I should check in.” I don’t miss the disappointment that flashes across Olivia’s face when I turn down her invitation. “I’ll see you in the morning though, right?”

  “Of course. The usual time,” she replies with a quick smile.

  *****

  I’m nearly asleep when I swear I hear a tapping on my window. I roll over and scream when I see someone squatting on the roof. My heart is still pounding erratically when Olivia lowers her hood and reveals her laughing, moonlit face. I quickly slide out of bed and make my way to the window, unlocking it and pulling it open.

  “We have a front door you know,” I say a little too harshly, my heartbeat still racing from the adrenaline jolt I just sustained.

  “I know, but what if your mom didn’t go to work? It’s after 11. I didn’t want to ring the bell and piss her off,” she manages through another bout of laughter.

  “I’m guessing she’d have had a bigger problem with you scaring me half to death,” I inform her, finally able to see some of the humor in the situation. “What are you doing here?”

  “Are you gonna take out the screen and let me in?” she asks, no longer bothering to whisper.

  “Oh, right,” I quickly snap to it, popping out the screen and standing aside so she can climb in my window. “How the hell did you get up there anyway?”

  “Easy. I climbed up the trellis on the back of the house and walked around on the roof,” she answers with a proud smile. “I told you I’d teach you how to sneak in and out of this place. Katie and I did it all the time.”

  “Well feel free to leave via the front door,” I tell her as I replace the screen and close the window. “I just left your place, what’s going on?”

  “I wanted to make sure things were cool between us. You left kinda abruptly earlier. I hope you aren’t upset that I didn’t tell you about my mom. Or think that I’ve only talked to you because she asked me to.”

  “We’re good,” I assure her with a wave of my hand. “Do they know that you’re here?”

  “No, they think I’m sleeping. They both sleep like the dead. I’m pretty sure a bomb could go off and they’d sleep right through it,” she says with a shrug.

  “You wanna hang out for a while then? I doubt I’ll be going back to sleep anytime soon.”

  “Sure. Want to watch a movie?”

  “All right. You pick though. I’ll probably fall asleep before it ends,” I answer as I open my closet door and flip on the light so she can see the selection. I crawl back into my bed and prop up my pillows against the headboard as she starts the movie. I’m not at all surprised when The Princess Bride begins to play.

  Chapter 4

  “Wouldn’t you rather be at the football game with everyone else?” Olivia asks as I hang out with her at the video store on a Friday night in late September. “I mean, it’s homecoming. There’s a dance after the game.”

  “I’m not really into sports, and I don’t dance,” I reply, not taking my focus off of the TV where we have The Craft playing. “Would you be there if you weren’t working?” I ask, turning my attention to her.

  “Hell no! Why would I want to watch a bunch of sweaty jocks piling on top of each other, chasing after a ball that isn’t even round? Besides, this is the easiest shift at work. The entire town is at the game. We haven’t had a single customer in over an hour.” Olivia’s right, aside from it being quite busy when her shift began, it has been quiet at the store since about an hour before the game started.

  “Did you want to go to the dance after the store closes?”

  “It’s a formal dance. Can you even picture me in a dress?” Olivia asks as she laughs. My mind immediately sets to work, trying to picture her in the perfect dress. It would have to be black, of course, and tight fitting to show off the body she conceals beneath her baggy attire. Perhaps it would have thin straps and a lower neckline, similar to some of the tank tops she wears to bed. “Besides, the music would suck and…,” she trails off. I wait for her to continue but the chime goes off, alerting us to someone entering the store. We look over the counter to see Martha, the co-owner of the shop approaching the counter. “Hey Martha,” Olivia quickly greets her.

  “Hey girls,” Martha greets us in return as she makes her way behind the counter. “It’s a slow night with the game. Why don’t the two of you go join your friends while I close up,” she suggests. Olivia and I exchange a glance before she responds.

  “Wanna get a couple of movies for after the dance?” Olivia asks me in a serious tone as I fight not to look dumbfounded.

  “Sure,” I answer, somehow hiding my confusion. Wasn’t she just telling me some of the reasons she wouldn’t be going to the dance? I follow Olivia around the counter where we quickly agree on The Long Kiss Goodnight, Interview with the Vampire, and Ghostbusters. We als
o grab a large package of red vines, two bags of popcorn, a big bag of peanut M & M’s and a 2 liter of Mountain Dew.

  “You’re going to be up all night if you eat all of that after the dance,” Martha observes and shakes her head as she quietly chuckles. “Oh to be young again. Go ahead and get out of here. It’s on me,” she tells us with a smile.

  “Thanks,” we simultaneously answer as we grab our supplies and turn for the door.

  “Be careful,” Martha calls out before the door has a chance to close.

  “We aren’t really going to the dance, are we?” I cautiously ask once we’re in the car. I’ll go if Olivia wants to, but deep down, I have zero interest.