Chapter seven

The Autobiography of Lola

Chapter 7

𝑴𝒂𝒓𝒄𝒉 2, 2019:

𝑬𝒏𝒕𝒓𝒚 2

Sign of times song by Harry Styles

𝑰 𝒄𝒂𝒏'𝒕 𝒔𝒂𝒚 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒄𝒉 𝒅𝒂𝒚 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒔𝒆; 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒅𝒂𝒚 𝑫𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒍𝒂 𝒅𝒊𝒆𝒅 𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒅𝒂𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒃𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒅 𝒉𝒊𝒎. 𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒑𝒊𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒚 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒄𝒉... 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒆𝒎𝒑𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒎𝒂𝒅𝒆 𝒎𝒆 𝒉𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒎𝒚𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒇 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆.

𝑰 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒅 𝒎𝒐𝒎 𝒑𝒓𝒂𝒚 𝒕𝒐 𝑮𝒐𝒅 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒅𝒊𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒆 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏, 𝒂𝒔𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑮𝒐𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒐𝒖𝒍 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒃𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑫𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒍𝒂 𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒆𝒂𝒄𝒉 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆, 𝒎𝒚 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒃𝒍𝒆𝒅 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒈𝒖𝒊𝒍𝒕. 𝑰𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒎𝒚 𝒇𝒂𝒖𝒍𝒕. 𝑩𝒖𝒕 𝒅𝒆𝒆𝒑 𝒅𝒐𝒘𝒏, 𝑰 𝒌𝒏𝒆𝒘 𝒏𝒐 𝒂𝒎𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒈𝒖𝒊𝒍𝒕 𝒘𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒑𝒂𝒔𝒕, 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝑰 𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒍𝒆𝒕 𝒊𝒕 𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒌 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒐 𝒎𝒚 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒅.

𝑩𝒖𝒓𝒚𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑫𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒍𝒂 𝒃𝒆𝒄𝒂𝒎𝒆 𝒕𝒐𝒐 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍. 𝑰𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒔 '𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒍' 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚𝒐𝒏𝒆; 𝑫𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒍𝒂 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒈𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒊𝒕 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒂𝒍𝒘𝒂𝒚𝒔 𝒃𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒚 𝒏𝒐 𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒄𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔.

𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒅𝒂𝒚, 𝑰 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒚𝒆𝒅 𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌 𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒚 𝒓𝒐𝒐𝒎, 𝒄𝒖𝒓𝒍𝒆𝒅 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒐 𝒂 𝒃𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒆𝒔𝒔, 𝒔𝒉𝒂𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒄𝒓𝒚𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒓𝒆𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒚 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒅 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒕𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒅 𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒈𝒆𝒕 𝒂𝒘𝒂𝒚 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈.

𝑾𝒉𝒊𝒍𝒆 𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒐𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒇𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒓, 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒄𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒅 𝒎𝒆. 𝑰 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒐𝒏𝒍𝒚 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒗𝒐𝒊𝒄𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒃𝒆𝒄𝒂𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝒊𝒕 𝒅𝒊𝒅𝒏'𝒕 𝒃𝒆𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒐 𝒎𝒐𝒎 𝒐𝒓 𝒎𝒚 𝒇𝒂𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓, 𝒔𝒐 𝑰 𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒌𝒆𝒅 𝒖𝒑 𝒕𝒐 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝑶𝒍𝒂 (𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒏𝒆𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒃𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝒅𝒂𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒆𝒓) 𝒂𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒅𝒐𝒐𝒓.

𝑨𝒔 𝒎𝒖𝒄𝒉 𝒂𝒔 𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒎𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒄𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒆, 𝑶𝒍𝒂 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑰 𝒃𝒂𝒓𝒆𝒍𝒚 𝒔𝒑𝒐𝒌𝒆 𝒕𝒘𝒐 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓, 𝒃𝒐𝒕𝒉 𝒂𝒕 𝒉𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒊𝒏 𝒔𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒐𝒍. 𝑺𝒐 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒌𝒆𝒑𝒕 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒃𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒊𝒕 𝒊𝒓𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒎𝒆 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆. 𝑬𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒃𝒍𝒂𝒎𝒆𝒅 𝒎𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝑫𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒍𝒂; 𝑰 𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒅 𝒕𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒑𝒆𝒐𝒑𝒍𝒆 𝒄𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒎𝒆 𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒆𝒔 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒆𝒆𝒕, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑶𝒍𝒂'𝒔 𝒎𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒐𝒇 𝒊𝒕 𝒂𝒍𝒍.

𝑰 𝒓𝒆𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒅 𝒐𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒇𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒅 𝒎𝒚 𝒃𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒇𝒊𝒍𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒍𝒅 𝒂𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅 𝒎𝒆, 𝒕𝒐 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒄𝒕 𝒎𝒚𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒇 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒎𝒚 𝒇𝒂𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓'𝒔 𝒉𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒇𝒖𝒍 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒆𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒎𝒐𝒎'𝒔 𝒔𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒎𝒔. 𝑰𝒕 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒅 𝒎𝒆 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒉𝒖𝒔𝒉𝒆𝒅 𝒗𝒐𝒊𝒄𝒆𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒏 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏 𝒊𝒇 𝒊𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒕𝒆𝒎𝒑𝒐𝒓𝒂𝒓𝒚; 𝒊𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈.

𝑩𝒖𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝑶𝒍𝒂 𝒔𝒂𝒕 𝒏𝒆𝒙𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒎𝒆 𝒐𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒇𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒐𝒍𝒅 𝒎𝒆 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒎𝒐𝒎 𝒎𝒂𝒅𝒆 𝒋𝒐𝒍𝒍𝒐𝒇 𝒓𝒊𝒄𝒆, 𝒎𝒚 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒎𝒆𝒍𝒕𝒆𝒅. 𝑰 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅𝒏'𝒕 𝒔𝒆𝒆 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒇𝒂𝒄𝒆, 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒊𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒂 𝒍𝒐𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒂𝒌 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒔𝒐 𝒎𝒖𝒄𝒉 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒄𝒆𝒓𝒏 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒆. 𝑰𝒕 𝒕𝒆𝒎𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒎𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒇𝒊𝒅𝒆 𝒊𝒏 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈. 𝑻𝒐 𝒕𝒆𝒍𝒍 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝑳𝒐𝒍𝒂'𝒔 𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒕𝒉.

𝑩𝒖𝒕 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒕𝒉? 𝑵𝒐𝒘 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝑰 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒌 𝒐𝒇 𝒊𝒕, 𝒊𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒑𝒊𝒅 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒌 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏. 𝑰 𝒌𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒅 𝑫𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒍𝒂, 𝒆𝒏𝒅 𝒐𝒇 𝒅𝒊𝒔𝒄𝒖𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏.

𝑯𝒆𝒓 𝒗𝒐𝒊𝒄𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒔𝒐 𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒍𝒆. "𝒀𝒐𝒖'𝒗𝒆 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒏 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒓𝒆 𝒅𝒂𝒚. 𝑰𝒕'𝒔... 3 𝒂𝒍𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒚. 𝑺𝒕𝒐𝒑 𝒃𝒍𝒂𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒇." 𝑰𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒂 𝒓𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒆𝒇 𝒕𝒐 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒕𝒆𝒍𝒍 𝒎𝒆 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒍𝒂𝒎𝒆 𝒎𝒚𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒇.

𝑨𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒔𝒆 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅𝒔 𝒅𝒊𝒅 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆. 𝑰𝒕 𝒈𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒎𝒆 𝒉𝒐𝒑𝒆. 𝑷𝒍𝒖𝒔, 𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐𝒐 𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒂𝒈𝒆; 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒂𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒎𝒂𝒅𝒆 𝒎𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒆. 𝑻𝒂𝒍𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒐 𝑶𝒍𝒂 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒐 𝒂𝒏 𝒂𝒅𝒖𝒍𝒕, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑰 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒃𝒂𝒓𝒆𝒍𝒚 𝒇𝒂𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒎 𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒚𝒆𝒂𝒓 𝒐𝒍𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏 𝒎𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒃𝒆 𝒔𝒐 𝒔𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒕.

𝑶𝒍𝒂 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒖𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒈𝒓𝒂𝒃 𝒎𝒚 𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒅, 𝒉𝒆𝒍𝒑𝒆𝒅 𝒎𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒅, 𝒂𝒔 𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒅𝒊𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒎𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒌𝒊𝒕𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒏. 𝑰𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒂 𝒓𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒆𝒇 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝑰 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒎𝒆𝒕 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒔𝒊𝒍𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒓𝒓𝒊𝒅𝒐𝒓 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝑰 𝒓𝒂𝒏 𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒍𝒖𝒄𝒌 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝑶𝒍𝒂'𝒔 𝒎𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒑𝒐𝒌𝒆 𝒖𝒑.

"𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒕𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒐 𝒂 𝒔𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒖𝒂𝒍 𝒉𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒐," 𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒂𝒊𝒅. "𝑰𝒕'𝒔 𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒃𝒍𝒆 𝒔𝒉𝒆'𝒔 𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒅."

𝑶𝒍𝒂'𝒔 𝒎𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒚 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒃𝒍𝒆𝒎. 𝑺𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆𝒔, 𝒘𝒆 𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒃𝒍𝒆𝒎𝒔 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒗𝒆𝒔 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒆𝒙𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒏𝒂𝒍 𝒇𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒔 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒔𝒆. 𝑴𝒚 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔 𝒂𝒍𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒚 𝒉𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒎𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑶𝒍𝒂'𝒔 𝒎𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒂𝒅𝒅𝒆𝒅 𝒔𝒂𝒍𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒎𝒚 𝒊𝒏𝒋𝒖𝒓𝒚.

𝑯𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅𝒔 𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒍𝒆𝒇𝒕 𝒎𝒆. 𝑰𝒕 𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒍𝒆𝒇𝒕 𝑶𝒍𝒂 𝒕𝒐𝒐. 𝑨𝒇𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒅𝒂𝒚 𝒂𝒕 𝒎𝒚 𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒆, 𝑶𝒍𝒂 𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒂𝒚 𝒉𝒊 𝒂𝒕 𝒉𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒐𝒓 𝒂𝒕 𝒔𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒐𝒍, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒇𝒆𝒘 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒖𝒕𝒆𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝒇𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒅 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒐 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈.

𝟭𝟬:𝟬𝟬 𝗮𝗺

We make our way through the meandering path.

There's a couple arguing under the enormous tree, protected away from the glare of the sun. At some point, the girl screams in his face, gesticulating as she makes her point. I don't hear what she's saying, but she's mad and the guy is staring at his feet, shaking his head like a child scolded by his mom.

Maybe he's embarrassed because that's how I feel right now after breaking down in front of Ayo. Apart from the couple arguing and the woman with three toddlers running and passing a Frisbee to themselves, the rest of the park is almost empty.

Mom has called me twice now, but I don't pick her calls. I suspect the school has informed her about my minor disagreement with Ms. Jodi. But there's nothing to say to her, and if she stresses about my whereabouts, then it's on her. Not my problem. She never cared about me before now, 𝒔𝒐 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕'𝒔 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒅?

Ayo and I reach my favorite spot where there are two swings attached to four gigantic trees. It's one of the spots I take my best shots.

I peek at Ayo, who is watching me too closely, 𝒕𝒓𝒚𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒐 𝒖𝒏𝒓𝒂𝒗𝒆𝒍 𝒎𝒆 𝒐𝒓 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕? 𝑺𝒕𝒐𝒑 𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈. There are so many questions in my head, trying to get free. Even though I want to be alone I'm eager to hear him tell me more, to hear the full story.

𝑾𝒉𝒚 𝒅𝒊𝒅 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒚 𝒂𝒘𝒂𝒚, 𝑨𝒚𝒐? No doubt if Seun forced him to stay away; he's an actual pain… like a tumor or something, and I should cut him off. 𝑳𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚, I would want nothing more than that.

"Sorry I left you there," he says. His voice is almost a whisper as we take a seat. 𝑻𝒆𝒍𝒍 𝒎𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝑨𝒚𝒐.

"It's a stupid move."

"You didn't…" 𝑨𝒎 𝑰 𝒕𝒓𝒚𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒐 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒉𝒊𝒎 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍 𝒃𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓? "It's no big deal," I say and meet his eyes.

There are freckles at the side of his face, but you won't catch it if you're not this close. Shutting my eyes, I shift and force the swing to move me forward then backward before it stills again.

"Nah… I did," he sighs. "I wanted to leave you right there, but you were crying." Guilt suffices his features as he stares at the ground.

𝑾𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒊𝒔 𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈?

"But you came back." I can't even believe I'm here, sitting with Ayo and trying to stop him from blaming himself. Minutes ago, I wanted him to leave me alone, but it's so stressful to explain what is going on in my head when I don't even understand anything.

He peers at me, the corner of his mouth lifts. "Yea. Uh… Lola? Can we start over?"

I know what he said, but does this even make any sense? I have just today. "Start what?" I slip him a fake-curious glance.

"Start like we never met."

I really don't want to start over. Being friendly with Ayo isn't even the best of ideas because when all these are over, it would be a slap on his face. He would blame himself, question the things he noticed today, and wonder if he missed the signs. '𝑾𝒂𝒔 𝑳𝒐𝒍𝒂 𝒔𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒆𝒏𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉?'

I look away, taking in the expanse of green grass. An aged man jogs past us, his feet making a steady slap against the concrete pathway that leads out of the park, and I can't help but wonder what it would be like to be that old, to have my hair turn gray, to become a world-known surreal photographer, to be someone other people look up to. 𝑵𝒐, 𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒈𝒆𝒕 𝒊𝒕.

"So…?"

I bite inside my cheek but Ayo interrupts, anyway.

"I'm Ayo," I turn to him, catching his outstretched hand without shaking him and for a moment it hangs there then he pulls back. "I love basketball," he spins his forefinger like he's playing with an actual basketball. "… and the ladies love me."

I study his smiling face. Everything about him is soft and understated joy. No doubt about girls liking him. The girls in Stone Valley high treated Ayo and Seun like they are royals plus, I see the way he chats with Kim's friend, Lily. It's sickening to realize I used to be like that… used to have this whole idea that Ayo was special, but the feelings just faded and sitting here with him and hearing him call himself a ladies' man sounds cheesy and wack. Being cocky isn't cute.

"Why?" that's the first thing that pops into my head.

"Why…" his brows draw together. "What?"

"If you're such a ladies' man, why wait until now?" I cover the side of my face as the warm sunlight streaming through the tree branches. "You were a coward right?" I say; hoping it stings, maybe make him guilty and it works. Ayo pauses. His lips form a pout as he stares ahead. 𝑾𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒊𝒔 𝒉𝒆 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏 𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒕? Is it the squirrel running along the field or the couple who are now hugging it out like they weren't arguing just now? Love is weird, really.

Maybe it is unreasonable to blame him for not being friendly for all these years. But there's a tiny part in my brain begging to voice everything out.

"Seun," he says, rubbing his temple.

"You stayed away from me because of Seun," I scoff. "That's a lame excuse."

"That…" his voice trails off and his mouth sets in a hard line. I want to know what he's thinking. Just say it, gosh. "My brother is an asshole. A manipulative one that gets everything he wants."

"He decides who you hang out with?" I shake my head. He either doesn't like my accusatory tone or the entire thing reminds him of his brother. Ayo sets his jaws. Even the blind can feel the angry steam coming off him

.

"Seun decides who you talk to too," he shrugs. "What your point?"

It burns as anger mixes with humiliation deep within my body. I turn away, stare ahead for brief seconds, then look at my feet like it's suddenly a fascinating thing. As much as I know how right Ayo is, hearing him say it confirms one thing: he knows I'm the coward and probably knows a little too much.

I peel the chapped skin on my palm and raise my head, and my eyes meet with his. "Why am I not surprised?"

They are brothers with the same blood running through their veins. Seun is callous and talks from his ass, and I'm not even surprised Ayo is the same. Why am I even sitting here with him? This is not part of the plan. Ayo is not part of my plan. I'm supposed to go back home and end it.

I hop off the swing, almost falling, but I grab the swing. Ayo tries to help too, wrapping his arms around my waist.

"Stop trying to touch me!" I scream. "I hate it…. I hate it so much. Stop it." 𝑾𝒉𝒐 𝒅𝒐𝒆𝒔 𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒌 𝒉𝒆 𝒊𝒔? Touching me like he owned me and just because I allowed it the other time doesn't mean he has that right. My chest rises and falls. "Don't you ever… touch me," I add for the last effect, then walk away.

"Lola!" I hear the soft swipe of his feet against the grass, but I don't stop. "Wait."

𝑳𝒆𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒎𝒆 𝒂𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒆. I'm mad at him, but at this point, I don't know which to be angry about the most: calling me a coward or trying to hold me. Both, I choose both.

Ayo catches up anyway, staggering to a halt just a few feet from me.

I should go around him, but I stop. He looks up and buries his fingers in his hair. There's something stuck right in his head, but he's holding back. I can feel it. It's the same way he did in the past when stared too long whenever he saw me with Seun. Back then, his gaze lingered, and then before I could wave, he'd disappear to his room.

"I didn't–" he adjusts the straps of his backpack with the other hand. A moment passes, and he steps forward to touch me, but I flinch again. Whatever is it with this guy? No one should ever try to touch someone they are not so close to. I slide him a guarded look. "Stop trying to touch me."

Ayo strokes the nape of his neck gestures back to the swing, and I wait, studying him. I can as well just walk out of here and never look back; I'm used to being alone. But now, now… He owes me this explanation.

So, I follow him back to the swing and Ayo speaks up immediately, "Seun is the special child… people like him."

𝑾𝒉𝒚 𝒘𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒑𝒆𝒐𝒑𝒍𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒌 𝒉𝒆'𝒔 𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒂𝒍?

"Intelligent…"

𝑺𝒆𝒖𝒏 𝒊𝒔 𝒂 𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒊𝒑𝒖𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓.

"Girls like him."

I hate him. 𝑮𝒊𝒓𝒍𝒔 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒕𝒐𝒐, 𝑨𝒚𝒐.

"My parents adore him. Dad says I take after mom, but Seun mirrors everything about Dad… I want to do something different." Ayo slumps and it's as if he's trying to appear smaller or maybe dissolve away from everything.

𝑫𝒐𝒏'𝒕—I swallow. It's just an act to make me talk to him, anyway.

"Dad treats me like dirt. He's never called me a mistake but I see the hate in his eyes," he nods and I see the anger cross his eyes. "He thinks I'm wasting my time with basketball. Do you know that too?"

One second passes. Two seconds pass. Everything he's just said pesters me because I've been alone for so long and I understand what it feels like to have a parent hate you. Though I only know a few things about Ayo–like I know he loves basketball–one thing has always been established: his dad really doesn't like him. It's more than just a father hating a son's antics–it's pure hate.

"He thinks basketball is an experiment," he says. "When you came along, I thought it would be different with you. A clean slate and again… Seun took that chance before I even had it."

My heart wrenches hard. That's the same thing I've ever wanted with my mom. A clean slate. But everything has been nothing but trial and failed attempts. I rest my hands on my laps and study him.

"I got jealous," he straightens, folding his hands over his chest, and when our eyes meet, they are blank as if the light just went off. "Seun always wins." The realization of what he said hits me so hard I can't even move or say a thing. It's not every day you see someone admit defeat.

Mr. Carter is hardly ever home. It is always business, investments, and business with him. The man mostly spends his time on a laptop, on the phone, or with Seun, while Ayo spends most of his time locked up in his room. I get how frustrating it must be for him, it's never ever a pretty experience.

"I'm sorry," I grimace. A thickness settles in my throat. "Shouldn't have jumped into conclusion."

He squeezes his eyes shut. "Nah, don't be. I ruined things with you."

I nod, but I don't correct him. Maybe he's right in a way; he messed things up. If only he took a bolder step. Things may be different, but the thing is, even after everything Ayo has said, he hasn't answered all my questions. I want to know why he chose that night of all nights. Why did he change after that night? It's not the first time he saw me cry.

𝑾𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒊𝒇 𝒉𝒆 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘𝒔 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆?

Worry loops around my mind until there are only questions in it. The worry plays like this: If he knows something, then that's the reason Ayo is following me everywhere, then he might be in on all these. No. He can't be. Ayo doesn't even like Seun.

Our eyes meet again. Instead of hearing a burst of evil laughter or hear him say, "Gotcha." He smiles, and it's like a mixture of happiness and sadness: a smile that spreads through his being and shows in his glassy eyes. He does not understand about Seun's tricks, but I have to ask…

"That night you found me crying…" His smile drops and looks away. "Ayo, what changed? I get the whole Seun keeping you away from me. But…"

"I was an idiot for letting him push me around."

Ayo pauses as if waiting for me to say something. I say nothing.

"When I noticed Seun acting like weird, I couldn't stand by and let him."

I just watch him. Then that sour feeling settles on me again. "You don't have to save me."

"Jeez," he studies me then rolls his eyes. With a sigh, his shoulders relax and he turns to me. "Nah. I'm not trying to save you. It's your birthday. I thought it'd be nice to talk."

His gaze stays longer than I want, and it feels like Ayo sees through me. Is he piecing me together like a puzzle? We sit in heavy silence for some moment. My eyes roam around until I find a feather drop from the sky above. I look up and in the sky, there's a flock of birds flying at once. I shift in the swing and chew on my already short nails.

"What are your plans for your birthday?"

I blink. Not even my mom cared to ask what my plans are for today. It used to be a ritual: mom made me a cake, got me a present, and always spent time with me on my birthdays. But then she stopped after Demola was born. Instead of asking about my birthday plans, we got into a heated argument yesterday, which ended up with me getting a hot slap. I hate my life.

But still… I scoff. "Are you pulling my legs?"

His face is serious. "Nope."

I squint at him. I find it hard to believe anything with no solid evidence. "I can't… I have no plans. Going home now."

"C'mon. Home?"

I say nothing.

"Let's walk around. Go somewhere fun."

Ayo wags his eyebrows at me. There's a way his smile lights up his face, emitting enough positive energy that's tempting enough to drown me in.

I shake my head, and he clasps his hands, begging. "Don't say no."

Maybe it's an excellent idea, a slight voice whispers in my head. Even though today, I will slip away and never wake up, having one last fun is never a terrible idea, is it? "Where should we go?"

He beams and stands. The swing drifts backward and forward but easy enough to not hit him. "It's a secret," he says, flashing me a grin.