Chapter Four

It’s Friday and I told my mom I’m going out. She looked at me weird.
“With who?”
“Jonas Whittaker.”
“Is this a date?”
“Hey Jonas, like my doll?” Astor looked up over her spaghetti.
“Kind of.”
“Kind of like her doll, or kind of like a date?”
“Like her doll.”
“Oh. Well, good. Are his parents home?”
“Yeah.” I didn’t know.
“Alright, be home by twelve. Is twelve ok?” I didn’t have a curfew because I never left.
“Sure.”
I showered, and looked at myself in the mirror. I’ve got boring hair, but I think I’m pretty. I have good teeth, at least. A normal nose, big green eyes. I’m at least passable.

This is how my night went, Ms. Bloch.
He pulled up in his car, a really old sedan of some sort, I don’t know a lot about cars. He was playing The Blow, I think for me. I brought one of my dad’s old records, David Bowie, who I like a lot.
“Hey, cool, Bowie rocks.” He really isn’t smart, right Ms. Bloch?
“Yeah. Uhm, what’s up?” I was trying.
“Nothing. You?” I just spent two hours getting ready, Jonas, and my little sister was acting out a date scene with your doll.
“I picked up a dime bag for us.”
“Cool.” I don’t know what a dime bag is.
He was driving fast, and he kept looking over at me. I was supposed to be talking.

We smoked in his basement, where he has his records and his art studio. His art is ok. The pot made me feel more awkward, like I was melting into the couch.
“Can I draw you?” he asked me
“Okay.”
“Sit here.” He pointed to a big chair near his easel. It was white and comfy, and I sat, hugging my knees to my chest. He came over and pulled one side of my shirt off my shoulder, touching my skin kind of.
“You have a pretty collar bone.” He explained.
“Oh.”
He was playing some record I had never heard, and he was quiet as he sketched. I don’t know how long it took, because I think pot makes you lost track of time, but after a while, he showed me. he made me look prettier than I am. We made out on his floor, and I let him take my shirt off. He kissed my collar bone, and traced the indent lightly with his fingers.
“You’re so pretty” he said quietly into my ear. I don’t think I like him anymore. Anyway, it was only ten, I looked over his shoulder and checked the clock. His cell phone buzzed.
“Hey Trav,” He answered, leaving me half naked on the floor.
“Uh, let me check,” He looked up at me, “Want to go to a party?”
“Okay.” I have a lot to tell Astor now, right? She’s going to get so excited by all this. I wasn’t sure if I was dressed for a party.
We got in the car and drove somewhere nearer to the school. The party was big, from the look of all the cars. Jonas held my hand as we walked in. The first person I saw was Mike Healy, he was holding a soggy looking cup of beer.
“You want a beer?” Jonas looked down at me.
“Yeah.” Why not? I still felt all disjointed from the pot, but I had never tried beer and I wanted to see what it was all about.
“Olive!” I heard a voice call out. Taylor was standing by the stereo, holding a beer too. I was disappointed she drank. She was with her friends, Mimi and Tricia, who both waved at me. I waved back and walked over with me own beer in hand.
“You came with Jonas?” Mimi raised her eyebrows
“Are you like, dating?” Tricia added.
“No, I don’t think so.”
“Oh.” They looked like they had nothing else left to say.
“It’s cool you’re here, I’ve never seen you out before.”
“I don’t really go out, I guess.”
“Oh.” I sipped my beer. It was kind of warm, but tasted carbonated, like soda. It wasn’t bad, so I drank more.
“But he’s cute.” Taylor smiled at me. She is so friendly, it’s nice.
“I guess.”
“Oh come on, you two are so dating. You both look all, dark and stuff.”
“I’m just wearing a black shirt.”
“I mean, mysterious. You know, deep?” Taylor looked like she wanted me to agree, so I did.
“Yeah, sure.” Jonas isn’t deep, he’s kind of dumb.
“Olive, come over here.” Jonas called me. He put his arm around me when I walked over to his group of friends, art kids with weird haircuts who were mostly older.
“This is Olive.”
“Hey, I’m Travis.”
“Hey Smokey, I’m Jake.”
“Hi.”
“How come I’ve never seen you out before?”
“I don’t know.”
“She likes good music, Trav.”
“Like what?” I shrugged.
Hey Ms. Bloch, don’t get anyone in trouble for this. I know we’re not supposed to drink, so don’t tell anyone’s parents, ok?
Anyway, the rest of the night was the same. I stood, awkwardly wedged under Jonas’ arm, kind of pinned there. I answered people’s questions all night, which is a good thing. I told Jonas at eleven thirty that I had to go home. He walked me to my door, and kissed my cheek before he left.
“Hey, Olive, how was it?” My mom was still up, at the kitchen counter, waiting for me
“Fine.”
“He looked cute.”
“Yeah.”
“So I guess now we need to talk about some things. Tomorrow we’ll talk about your curfew, drinking, safe sex.”
“Mom. Please.”
“What, Olive? These are important things.”
“Not for me.”
“Fine, Olive.” She looked disappointed in me.
“We can talk tomorrow, Mom. I’m going to bed.”
“Okay, good night, sweetheart.”
I wanted to tell her everything. I never had to lie before, but I guess I wasn’t really lying, right?
Today I played with Astor in our backyard, acting out the party with our dolls over and over.
“Do this kissing part again, Olive!”
“No, come on Astor.”
“Please?”
“Fine.”
I made the Jonas doll hold hands with my doll, showing Astor. She was satisfied.

Chpater Three

When I turned in the first few entries, you said it made you laugh. This is a good thing, Ms. Bloch, except I wasn’t trying to be funny. But today Jonas stopped me in the hallway.
“Hey, Olive, what’s the homework for Bloch’s class?”
“Chapter two.”
“Thanks. What class do you have now?”
“Free period.”
“Me too. Want to go smoke?”
I don’t smoke but I went with him. I passed Mark, who waved, but looked confused. I waved back.
We walked outside, and went across the street to the corner where everyone goes to smoke. I had never been, but it seemed like Jonas knew all the burnout kids who go there. I hoped my parents wouldn’t drive by.
“Want one?”
“Sure.” I didn’t.
He lit it for me, and I inhaled, trying not to cough.
“Have you done the homework yet?”
“No. I hate reading.”
“Oh, me too.” I wasn’t sure what to say, or why I was here.
“Ms. Bloch is making me write a journal.” I hope it’s ok I told him that. You didn’t tell me not to tell anyone.
“Really? Weird. What do you write about.”
You, I thought.
“Uhm, people.”
“Oh, really?”
The cigarette was making me woozy, like my fingers were asleep.
“I saw you writing in it, I think. In class. Is it like graded?”
“I hope not.”
“That’s weird.”
“Yeah.”
“I also saw your notebook had lyrics on it. I like The Blow too.”
“Yeah.” I was feeling like I was going to throw up. He stubbed his cigarette out.
“Do you like punk?”
“Some.”
“You don’t talk a lot, huh?”
“I guess not.”
“Like, what bands?”
“Minor Threat.”
“I love Minor Threat.” He didn’t need to know that I had a terminal crush on Ian MacKaye, even though he’s old.
“I like Fugazi too. His other band”
“Yeah, they’re good., I have all those records. Do you like records?”
“I guess.” I threw my cigarette in the woods.
“Hey, Smokey, don’t start a forest fire.” Some burnout called to me. I blushed.
“Ignore Jake.” Jonas smiled. “Want to go back?”
“Okay.”
“You should come over sometime, I’ll show you my records.”
“Okay.” I think I got asked out. I’ll have to tell Astor that.
“What are you doing Friday?” Big plans, playing dress up with my sister.
“Nothing.”
“Want to come over?”
“Sure.”
“I can pick you up. Where do you live?”
“Jordan Terrace.”
“Hey, I live on Wilton. That’s close.”
“I can walk.”
“Nah, I’ll come get you.”
“Okay.”
“Do you smoke pot?”
“Not yet.” He laughed.
“You want to?”
“Yeah.” I hoped my parents would be proud I was misbehaving.
“Awesome. We’ll get stoned and listen to records.” That sounded kind of stupid, and I realized Jonas probably isn’t very smart. But he’s pretty nice.

Chapter Two

I’m all sweaty from gym. I am not an athlete, but I bet you guessed that. I’m small and scrawny, with weird pockets of fat in places, like my stomach. I’m not ugly though.
Mark is in my gym class. He looked like this nice Jewish boy, with curly dark hair and a big smile. He wears huge headphones all the time, he loves hip-hop and rap. He’s kind of weird, too. He’s not popular, but I don’t think he cares. He’s in my gym and my English classes, and he doesn’t really seem to have friends either. He just kind of bops through the halls with his headphones and baggy jeans, occasionally saying weird stuff in class. I think I could be friends with him. He always turns around the say stuff to me, I think he gets it. gets that I need talking to every once in a while. Today in gym he passed me the ball in basketball. I turned, shielding my face, and the ball bounced away sadly.
“Olive, homie, you gotta catch it.” He laughed, not meanly though.
“I don’t want to.” I didn’t.
“Make the ball your bitch, O, show that ball who’s the boss.”
I didn’t respond. I probably should have, I think, but the bell was going to ring, and there was no point, really.
The journal isn’t bad, Ms. Bloch.
I just ate dinner with my parents, and I told them about Mark and the ball. They laughed, and seemed relieved. Astor asked if Mark was my boyfriend. She watched soap operas in the afternoon, and is starting to get all sorts of ideas about boys and girls. I guess as far as boyfriends would go, Mark would be ok. He lives in my neighborhood; we used to play Peter Pan when we were little. I was Wendy.
There’s this song I love, by this band called The Blow, called in my room. I like my room a lot. I don’t have a TV or anything, but in the songs it says:
Things do to, yeah; I’ve got them in my roomI've got it going on. The silence of the phone not ringing
Is just a present thing under my, my mind.

I wrote that in the correct form, right, Ms. Bloch? Anyway, I like to listen to that song in my room, and dance around. Sometimes Astor does it with me. She likes cool music for a little kid. I like to look online for new bands and things. Music is like math, I think. Mark is good at math too, or he used to be. That’s why he’s not cool; He’s too smart. He talks like he’s not smart, but he is. I bet he thinks music is like math too.
Anyway, one of my least favorite characters is Mike Healy. But he sure likes himself. He has a crush on Taylor, which he satisfies by making fun of her in class. He’s on the soccer team, and he goofs off in class to get attention. He makes fun of Tim Carter a lot. Tim makes me look like Ms. Popularity. He’s got acne, and he smells, but he’s ok I guess. I was on the science team til I realized that meant I had to talk at meets, and he was on it with me. He’s quiet, but really nice. I think he has a crush on me, because he always stares at the back of my neck in History class. I can smell him the whole time. He walks home from school every day, which is really uncool. You’re supposed to drive, or at least take the bus. He carries his lunch box, orange, like a purse, too. I think he cares that he’s a loser. He should stop caring, like me and Mark. But he’s worse off than me. He seems to offend Mike, and Mike acts like he deserves to be made fun of. He used to call me Olive Oil, but when no one thought it was funny he stopped.
Another one of my favorites is Jonas Whittaker. He’s this art kid who’s in my English class. He sketches all the time, and is as bad at reading as I am. He’s really beautiful, I think. I named a doll after him too. I think I have a crush on him, because I like to imagine what it’d be like to have him as my boyfriend. He’s got long blonde hair and these nice brown eyes, like a dog. That sounds weird, but it’s what I think. He wears a cool leather jacket, and I know he likes the same music as me, I can just tell. I don’t dress cool. I just wear a black t-shirt and jeans, most days. I like my black t-shirts. They’re kind of tight, which is my attempt to be sort of sexy. I like black, which is why I like Jonas’ jacket. I wish I could wear his jacket, smell the leather. Wearing black is neutral, you know, but it keeps you from blending in totally. My black is boring, but Jonas’ black is mysterious. I wish I could draw or something. Then I could be in his art class.

Olive Moore's Essential Feild Guide to Life

I’m Olive.
I’m sixteen, and I’m not stupid. I just can’t write stuff. Things. My English teacher, Ms. Bloch, told me to write this journal so i could be a better writer. I think she just feels sorry for me. She’s one of those new teachers, all gung ho about learning. She says my writing lacks style. I asked her, what style did she mean, and she just handed me this book to write in. fine. I hate English. I’m not stupid though, I’m good at math. It’s easy and it just follows rules. I can follow rules, I told her, but I just can’t make my own.
I think she feels bad because I don’t have any friends. By all accounts, I should hate high school. I don’t though. It’s this panorama of people every day. People I hate, people I wish I knew, the usual players. Everyone pretty much ignores me. Well, that’s not true. Today Mark Cohen-Barnes talked to me.
“Yo Olive, got a piece of notebook paper?” I handed him one, and he said “Thanks homie.”
I’ll tell my mom we ate lunch together.
My mom is really nice. So is my dad. And my little sister, Astor, is my best friend. She’s nine. She’s this cool little kid though. She still plays dress up and make believe, even though she’s a little old, and I love that about her. My parents are these normal, nice people, and they usually don’t know what to do with me. I feel like they wish I would act out, pierce my tongue or come home drunk. At least that’d be more normal than playing dolls all afternoon with my little sister.
Since my life is pretty pathetic, I’m going to write a field guide to West Harlow High School. I like science too, by the way. I’m starting with one of my favorite characters, Taylor Yeardsley. She’s really pretty, pretty enough that she could date anyone, you know? But she doesn’t. She’s really nice, she wears these Oxfords every day and she always looks extremely clean. Her dad is my dentist, and he always tells me what perfect teeth I have. I really do have nice teeth, I think. Pretty straight and stuff. I once saw Taylor there, at the office.
“Hey Olive!” She was hanging out in the waiting room, and I was surprised she knew my name.
“Hi Taylor.” Her dad walked in then, and she jumped up.
“Dad, this is my friend Olive from school.” I was grateful she called me her friend. We hadn’t talked since girl scouts, I don’t think, but it was a nice gesture, right?
“I know Olive, Taylor. She’s the girl with the perfect teeth.” He smiled at me. He’s a nice man, I guess, always really friendly. I think that’s where Taylor gets it. he probably brings her home cool toothbrushes and sugar free treats once in a while.
“See you in math Olive.” She looked back down at her magazine, curling her feet under her.
“Uhm, we’re not in the same math class.”
“Oh.” She looked up again.
“We’re in Bio though, right?”
“Oh yeah, that’s what I meant.”
I told you I was easy to ignore, didn’t I? That’s what I mean, anyway. That’s why this field guide will be good, like Darwin. No one notices me watching them, so I’ll be impartial.
I named one of Astor’s Barbies Taylor, the really pretty one. She’s my favorite doll, I guess.
I really don’t want to turn this in or anything. Ms. Bloch will probably call the school shrink on me. It’s not weird though. I don’t like, worship the doll. I just make her say really nice, encouraging things to all the other dolls. That’s creepy, right? Jesus. I’m going to go to bed now. It’s only nine, but I have nothing else to do. I have gym tomorrow, so I’ll tell you about Mark Cohen-Barnes then. He’s another favorite.

Epilogue

So that’s it. A year of my life, written down and in print. The magazine is doing well, in our target demographic, which is probably not a very large sector of the population. We did have to up our circulation, thanks to some key press, and the website has been our selling point. We’re looking into being bought by a larger publishing company, as long as we get to keep it true to ourselves. Viv is helping now, strengthened by good therapy and some prescribed pharmaceuticals, for once. Her photography has upped the standard of Lucky Bitch immensely, and she’s delving more into self-portraits for some self discovery. She did, in fact, shave a pattern into her bald spot. As for me, I spend a lot of time alone. There’s a lot of empty space without Andrew in our apartment. After a short nervous spell, I began to enjoy the solitude. Viv spends the night if I get lonely, but I’m relishing the time to myself. When he gets back from Europe in two weeks, I’m getting a studio.
I once got a drunken message from Marie at 3 a.m on a Wednesday, profanities screamed unintelligibly. To the best of my knowledge, she still goes to Wellesley. I haven’t seen her, and I doubt I will. I sometimes wonder about her, wonder if she found two new replacements to manipulate. She was like a weed, choking out our growth to her benefit. She left us damaged, bruised, and it takes a lot for me to trust now. I look back and see the collateral damage we caused; broken boys, torn friendships, literal wounds. I feel like there was so much I should have seen coming, that I could have prevented. I now take accountability for my actions, but I know it’s a little too late. But I have gained so much this year, too. I have gained a career I am proud of, the trust of my parents, new friends, and a wonderful boy I love. I have bad days, where I still wonder if I can do it, if I’m good enough. But I now have the support around me to reassure me that I can. The past year made me reexamine all parts of myself, turning who I was inside out into who I am. Ultimately what I’ve gained is a steak in my future. I am no longer floating apathetically. I messed up in the past; I’m willing to admit that fully. But now I have chosen my present.

Chapter Twenty Six

“So this is it?” we stood in the air port terminal, as far in as I could go.
“Yeah.” His voice was slower than usual.
“I am going to miss you so much.”
“I’m going to miss you too!” Dave jumped toward me, grabbing me in a hug.
“We need our Sweet Jane!” Colin added.
“Guys, we’re ruining a romantic moment.” Jason rolled his eyes.
“Whoops, sorry!” Dave headed towards the gift shop.
“I’ll call you when I land.” Andrew looked me in the eye, his brow crinkling adorably. My stomach knotted and I felt myself tear up. “Baby…” he hugged me.
“It’s ok, we’re good. We’re strong enough for this.”
“I know we are, Jane. I know that better than you know.”
“No German girls.”
“None. Just a French one.”
“I’ll kill you. Then her. You first though.”
“No brooding hipsters with accents.”
“I don’t even know any anymore, don’t worry.”
“We have to go, Andrew.” Jason called.
“Ok.” He called back. “I love you.”
“I love you tons. I’ll be ok, right?”
“You’ll be great.”

Chapter Twenty Five

“So now we wait?” I asked
“No, now we start work on the November issue.” Leo laughed. We had decided to make the magazine bi-monthly, to cut down on costs.
“Right.” I leaned back into Leo’s couch.
“I think we did good, but we’ll have to just keep checking the blogs and our site to make sure.”
“At least the party was great.”
“True. Your speech was awesome.” I groaned, shaking my head.
“I can’t believe you made me talk in front of people. I’m a backstage kinda gal.”
“Well now you’re the CEO or whatever of our magazine. The money girl, I guess.”
“ah yes, CEO of Lucky Bitch Inc.”
“Hey I thought of something yesterday. You’re technically in publishing now.” She burst out laughing.
“Oh my god, you’re right.”
“I bet your momma is proud.”
“Oh shut up. I have to go though, keep me posted on people’s feedback. I’m writing an article about old indie favorite bands that are releasing albums on major labels for the first time. I’ll send you a draft.”
“Nice, see you later, baby Jane.”
“Hey, that’s no way to speak to your technical boss.” She threw a crumpled paper at me as I walked out the door.
I walked home, enjoying the crisp fall air. I felt light and content, and I stopped walking for a moment.
“So this is what happy feels like,” I mused.
A homeless man taking bottles out of the garbage smiled a toothy grin at me. I smiled back. He then began to urinate on the sidewalk.

“Hey baby, I’m home.”
“Just in time for dinner, I’ve been slaving away.” Andrew gestured at the Chinese takeout on the coffee table.
“We are so modern. The man cooks for the lady…kind of.”
“Come eat, I’m hungry.”
Colin wandered out of the bathroom, and made a bee-line for the food.
“Oh here’s our son.” Andrew laughed.
“What?” Colin said thickly through some lo mein
“Nothing, nothing, just stuff you face, as usual.” I giggled.
“Have you asked her yet?” He looked at Andrew, swallowing.
“No.”
“Asked me what?”
“We’re going on tour in Europe and I want, we want, you to come with us.”
“We need a laundry wench.” Colin added.
“Andrew! I can’t. I have the magazine.”
“I know, but its Europe. How great would it be to see Europe together?”
“I have a full time job, you know that.”
“Well, Leo and Yuki can handle it., right?”
“No, Andrew, this is what I do now. I can’t just follow you everywhere, I have a life.” I was frustrated.
“C’mon.” He smiled, doing puppy dog eyes.
“I can’t believe you think I would just leave the magazine to tag along on your tour. I’m serious about this, you know that.”
“I know, but it’s only two months.”
“Enough time for my magazine to fail.”
“Fine, whatever.”
“Not whatever! I’m finally serious about something, and you still expect me to be your loyal backup with no other plans. I’m doing this for myself, not for you.”
“But I need you too.”
“You just don’t get it, do you?” I got up and stormed out, slamming the door behind me. why did no one take me seriously?
I thought about it as I walked down the street. True, I didn’t have the greatest track record. I made my parents buy me a horse, and then I quit riding. I quit ballet when my feet started to hurt. I quit college when I panicked. But I was taking this seriously now, right?
“Oh my god. I’m a quitter.”
No wonder my parents made the ultimatum of a year. They figured I would get bored just like every other time. I turned around and headed back to the house. I had some apologizing to do.
“Jane I am so sorry.”
“No it’s me, I quit everything, I don’t blame you for thinking I would go. I always pick what seems fun at the time over what I have to do. But I’m serious about this, I want it to be my career.”
“And starting a magazine at twenty is impressive, Jane, you know that, right?” Colin cut in.
I helped myself to a Peking ravioli, and sat down.
“I want to prove this to myself, babe.” I said to Andrew.
“And I want you to succeed, I’m sorry for being selfish.”
“But I’ll be here when you get back.”
“Good. But I figured you would be.”
“You have a big head.”
“I tell him that every day.” Colin said to me, nodding knowingly.
“And all it does is make me want to hit you.” Andrew laughed.
“What will I do with you when you’re actually famous?” I shook my head, pretending to be worried.
“We’re a power couple, whatever.”
“I can’t believe you just called us that. You’re such a cocky bastard.”
“Agreed!” Colin spit crumbs everywhere.
“And you are filthy. Maybe I should go, just to clean up after you guys.”
“Thanks Mom!”

I trekked out to Long Island a few days later to see Viv in the hospital. I was nervous to see how she was doing. After getting buzzed into the rehab ward, I was told there was only an hour of visiting hours left. Since I was uncomfortable, I was a little relieved. I felt guilty, but it was awkward.
“Hey!” Viv shouted at me, from across the room. She was playing checkers with an old man in a robe.
She ran over, wearing pajamas and those non-slip hospital socks. Her hair was in a side ponytail, with the shaved part of her head on the side. It kind of looked cool.
“Nice hair.”
“I’m going to shave a design in there, and look like a hipster.”
“You nut. How are you?” I was holding her hands. She looked radiant, her skin back to it’s creamy olive, no circles under her eyes.
“I feel amazing. Waking up without a hangover is awesome! And the food here, they let you check off as many things as you want, and they just deliver it to your room. It’s like room service, except with gross hospital food.” I laughed.
“I’m so glad you’re doing well. When are you out?”
“The end of the week. Then I do outpatient.”
“Good for you. When can you work for me?” I laughed.
“I think the end of the month. I want to start doing things, so I don’t get bored.”
“I’ll be watching you, no relapses.”
“Hey, come look at this!”
She dragged me to the art therapy room, where a series of self portraits of her hung on the walls. The art therapist shook my hand.
“You’ve got a really talented friend, Jane.” He smiled.
“I’m working on a series of self portraits, to kind of figure out how I see myself. how I saw myself, what I want to see myself as, you know.”
“They’re awesome.” I walked around the room, looking at the charcoal drawings. Some were horribly sad, her figure looking distorted and broken, her face melancholy.
“Viv, I’m still sorry I didn’t help you.”
“No one could have helped me, babe. I need to fix myself. I’m on an anti-depressant now. Prozac nation or whatever.”
“How do you feel about that?”
“If it keeps me from fucking up, I’m for it.”
“I had no idea you felt like this.” I gestured to a sad-looking portrait.
“Me either, actually. I was distracting myself with the drugs and booze.”
“I was ignoring everything with self pity.” I laughed.
“OK, it’s time to go.” One of the counselors said gently to me.
“Oh no.” Viv pouted.
I hugged her tightly, not wanting to let her go.
“Thanks for visiting, Jane. It means a lot. Have you talked to Marie?”
“No.”
“It’s ok, we don’t need her. We have each other.”
“Call me when you’re out, I’ll come out for dinner or something.”
“Ok. I love you!”
“I love you too!”