CHAPTER 158: A GLIMPSE INTO OLIVIA’S AND MAXWELL’S PAST

Maxwell’s POV - Twenty Years Ago (Two Days After Meeting Olivia)

I sat in the library’s reading room, surrounded by my fellow book club members, but for the first time in forever, I wasn’t actually paying attention to the discussion.

Mrs. Ivan was talking about symbolism in The Chronicles of Narnia, her voice filled with the passionate enthusiasm she always had when discussing literature. Usually, I’d be hanging on every word, my hand shooting up with answers and observations, desperate to show that I knew things, that I was good at something.

But today, I kept glancing at the clock on the wall.

3:47 PM.

Thirteen minutes until I could leave.

Thirteen minutes until I could see Olivia.

The thought made me smile - something I rarely did anymore. My face felt strange doing it, like those particular muscles had forgotten how to work properly.

But I couldn’t help it. For the first time in my twelve years of living, I had something to look forward to. Someone who actually wanted to spend time with me. A friend.

A real friend.

It had been two days since Olivia had saved me from Peter and his gang. Two days since she’d stood in front of me with her pepper spray and her fierce nature declaring that she would protect me no matter what.

And the past two days have made me realize that maybe, just maybe, life was worth living after all.

Because before Olivia, I wasn’t living. Not really. I was just... existing. Going through the motions. Wake up, eat, go to school, get bullied, come home, eat more, book club, get bullied again, come home, sleep, repeat.

Every day the same gray, miserable existence.

But now? Now I had color in my world. I had Olivia.

We’d developed a routine over these past two days. I’d leave book club an hour early - which Mrs. Ivan allowed because I told her I had tutoring - and meet Olivia at the playground near the library. We’d spend that precious hour together before my driver came to pick me up.

And it was the best hour of my entire week.

We’d sit on the swings and I’d tell her about the books I was reading. She’d listen with those wide, attentive eyes, asking questions that showed she was actually interested, actually cared about what I had to say.

Yesterday, I’d explained the concept of photosynthesis from my science textbook, using the leaves on the playground trees as examples. She’d been fascinated, asking if that meant trees were basically eating sunlight.

"Exactly!" I’d said, feeling smart and useful and needed for the first time in forever.

"That’s so cool," she’d breathed. "You’re like a walking encyclopedia, Maxwell! You know everything!"

No one had ever said I knew everything before. Usually, people called me a know-it-all or a nerd or a teacher’s pet - all said with contempt, like being smart was something to be ashamed of.

But Olivia made it sound like my knowledge was something amazing. Something valuable.

Something worth protecting.

And speaking of protecting - the bullies had left me alone these past two days. They’d stayed on their side of the library with their other bully friends, and I’d stayed on mine, and for the first time in months, I’d been able to enjoy my book club meetings without that constant knot of dread in my stomach.

Maybe it’s over. Maybe Olivia’s pepper spray scared them enough that they’ll leave me alone forever.

The thought made me giddy with relief.

3:58 PM.

Two minutes.

I was already gathering my books, stuffing them into my backpack. I’d finished the assigned reading Chapters early, too excited to concentrate on anything else.

4:00 PM.

Finally.

I stood up, mumbling something to Mrs. Ivan about needing to leave early for my tutoring appointment. She nodded absently, already engaged in a debate with another club member.

I walked toward the door, trying not to run, trying to maintain some dignity.

But the moment I hit the hallway, I started running.

My backpack bounced against my back. I was breathing hard already - I wasn’t built for running, my body too heavy, too soft - but I didn’t care.

Olivia’s waiting. Olivia’s waiting for me at the playground.

I rounded a corner, heading toward the main entrance...

Something hooked my ankle.

I didn’t even see what it was. One second I was running, the next I was hitting the floor hard, my chin smacking against the tile, my teeth clicking together so forcefully I tasted blood.

"Oof!" The sound was knocked out of me along with all the air in my lungs.

Pain radiated through my jaw, my hands, my knees. But worse than the physical pain was the sound of laughter echoing down the hallway.

"Well, well, well. Look what we have here."

No. No, no, no.

Rough hands grabbed me at the point that caused the most pain. They hauled me up, my feet scraping against the ground as they dragged me away.

I tried to struggle, tried to dig my heels in, but it was useless. I was being pulled through the library hall like a rag doll, through the back door and into the alley.

The same alley where they’d found me two days ago.

They flung me to the ground near the dumpster, and I landed in a heap, my shoulder hitting the pavement first.

When I looked up, all four of them were there. Peter, Jason, Steven, and the fourth one whose name I’d never learned. They formed a circle around me, blocking any escape route.

Their eyes were watery and bloodshot, making them look even more menacing.

"Did you think we’d let you go?" Peter began. "After what your little friend did to us?"

"I’m sorry," I said immediately, already so used to the word. "I’m so sorry. She didn’t mean..."

"SHUT UP!" Peter kicked me in the side. "You think saying sorry fixes this? You think saying sorry makes up for what that bitch did?"

"She’s not a bitch!" I yelled at them without thinking. "She was just trying to help me!"

Another kick. This one to my stomach. I curled up, gasping, trying to protect my vital organs.

"Trying to help you," Steven repeated with a sneer. "Like you’re worth helping. Like you’re actually human."

Then they began beating me, accompanied by hurtful words.

"You thought you were something now, didn’t you? Because some silly little girl talked to you?"

"You thought you were one of us? That you belonged?"

"You’re nothing, Wellington. You’ll always be nothing. A fat, disgusting, worthless nothing."

I tried to protect myself, curling into a tighter ball, my arms over my head. But there were four of them and one of me, and they knew exactly how to hurt someone.

"Sorry! I’m sorry!" I sobbed, tears and snot running down my face. "Please stop! Please!"

They didn’t stop. They never stopped until they were ready to stop.

Finally, Peter grabbed my shirt and hauled me up. Two of the others - Jason and Steven - grabbed my arms, holding me upright while I swayed on my feet.

Peter got right in my face, so close I could smell the cigarettes on his breath.

"We’re going to make you a deal, Wellington. One chance to make this all go away."

"Anything," I gasped, nodding frantically. "I’ll do anything. Whatever you want."

"You sure about that?" Peter smiled, and it was the cruelest smile I’d ever seen. "Anything at all?"

"Yes! Yes, I promise! Anything!"

In my little mind, I was already calculating what they might want. Money - my parents had plenty of that. Jewelry, electronics, whatever expensive things they might want, I could get. I’d steal from my parents if I had to. Anything to make this stop.

"Bring us the girl."

The words didn’t register at first. I just stared at him, confused.

"What?"

"Your little friend. The one with the pepper spray." Peter grip on my shirt tightened. "Bring her to us. Tomorrow. Same time, same place."

My blood turned to ice. "No."

"No?" Peter eyebrows rose. "Did you just say no to us?"

"I can’t... I won’t..." I was shaking my head violently, terror paralyzing me. "Not Olivia. Anything else, please, anything else..."

"We don’t want anything else." Peter shoved me backward, and Jason and Steven had to catch me to keep me from falling. "We want the girl. She made us look like fools. She hurt us. And now she’s going to pay for that."

"I’ll give you money!" I was begging now, openly crying. "My parents have money! I can get you whatever you want! Just not Olivia, please..."

"We don’t want your fucking money!" Steven punched me in the stomach again, and I doubled over, retching. "We want revenge."

"You have until tomorrow," Peter said, his voice cold. "Bring her to us, or we’ll keep hunting you. Every single day. We’ll make your life a living hell. And when we’re done with you - when you’re so broken you can’t even crawl anymore - then we’ll go get her ourselves."

"No," I whispered. "Please, no."

"And we won’t be gentle with her like we are with you," Jason added with a sick grin. "She’s a girl. There are... other things we can do to girls."

The implication made me want to vomit.

"You have until tomorrow," Peter repeated. "Think carefully, Wellington. You can save yourself a lot of pain by just doing what we say."

Then they shoved me away - hard enough that I stumbled and fell again.

I stayed on the ground for a long moment, trembling, crying, my whole body aching.

They want Olivia. They want to hurt her because she helped me.

The thought was unbearable. Unthinkable.

Olivia was good and kind and brave. She’d saved me when no one else cared. She’d become my friend when I had no one. She’d made me feel like I mattered, like I was worth something.

I can’t give her to them. I won’t. I’ll die first.

But the alternative was equally terrifying. If I didn’t bring her, they’d keep hurting me. And then they’d go after her anyway.

Either way, Olivia would be in danger.

Because of me. Because I’m weak and pathetic and can’t defend myself.