Nineteen – Calvin

Once I reach the platform, there's a train heading to the Middle stopped and waiting for passengers, so I get straight on. I'm not waiting around a station that's flooded with Upper-class officers. I slip onto the train and walk to a car that is almost completely empty. The train jolts into motion shortly after I sit down. I spin myself so my back is slouched into the armrest and my legs stretch across the bench-like seat. My day has barely started and I'm already exhausted.

I press my head against the graffitied windows of the train and let my mind wander off. I know there's around 5 stops before I have to get off. My stop will put me on the main road, then it's a matter of weaving my way through the streets until I find the library. Not that it would be open at this hour anyway.

As expected, I end up stuck on the thought of Oliver. He's the only thing on my mind. Not school, not my family or friends, not the pressure of my final exams, not the idea of university or even a job. Just Oliver. Just his smile and his flawlessness. His amazing personality. How he's quiet, and never wants to hurt or offend. His golden hair that curls in just the right ways. Just how he can do everything so effortlessly and how it feels when we hug, kiss or when he's just simply pressed against me. I haven't been this happy for a long time.

The thought of him stays light and fluffy for a while, but one thought managed to drown my mind with a horrible darkness and sent it into spiralling chaos…

What if he left me?

What if he left me because everything was going too fast for him? What if it has nothing to do with his mother and he just took the excuse and ran with it? What if he wasn't worried but he just wasn't ready? What if I went too far? I should've known to go slow. I mean, it's been a while, months even, that's not too fast right. Or what if he didn't come back because he wanted revenge. Maybe he wanted to see what it was like to leave someone, the way that Ethan left him.

The chaos spirals deeper and deeper as I try to put everything together. I mean, there's no way Oliver would do any of that, it's just not who he is. But I can never kill the shadow of doubt. No... I'll find him and we can talk things through. If there's anything wrong, we can sort it out. Right?

I feel tears start to bite at the rim of my eyes but I push them back. Don't cry. I have to stay strong, and I have to find him. I've managed to slump into the seat so much that I almost slip off it when the train screeches to a halt at my stop. Luckily, the stops when you come from Upper-class are different to the ones that Oliver takes. That means I don't have to go through the pain of getting off at the station that I always drove Oliver to. I don't think I would be mentally prepared for that place. I drag myself off the train and get pulled into the flow of the early morning crowds, keeping my head low and heading for the streets.

- - -

I've never really walked the streets of the Middle. I walk alongside everyone else, picking my way through the 5 AM crowd. Watching as each person lives their own lives. I watch as they live through their own problems and write their own futures. Some look like simple Lower-class workers, just minding their own business, earning their own money. Others are definitely Upper-class, strutting around in suits with their steaming coffees and swinging their premium leather briefcases. Then there's the groups of people that don't look like either, in a mix of suits and business casual. That group is the only thing that reminds me class structure is a bunch of shit.

I wonder what onlookers think of me. What class they think I'm in. What my story is. I wonder if any can pick that I'm just a kid that's lost. I'm just walking around in clothes that my parents would call pyjamas, with a duffle bag thrown over my shoulder. I wonder if anyone guessed that I've run away to find someone who means the world to me. I mean, this isn't some cliché movie so they would have to have some imagination to consider that. Maybe they would have to be an author to even think up something as fiction-sounding as this.

While I walk through the streets, I keep my eyes peeled for anywhere where I could get some breakfast, or maybe a coffee. Not long into my search, an opportunity arises; McDonalds. I make a small detour and get myself a small breakfast and a coffee. Admittedly, I could've waited until the library opened to get a better coffee, but I need energy now. Because I'm impatient, I don't dine in and instead I eat on the go. I just want to get to the library. I need that painful familiarity right now. Even though it won't open for another hour and a half. There's also no chance Oliver is even going to show up until 3:30 PM at least, if he does at all.

It comes to the last bend before the library and I feel the dread set in. It's almost been a week, he has to come back today. Then I see it and, just like a brick, it hits me. Dread rests heavy on my shoulders and wraps a tight hand around my lungs. I've been to the library too many times since he disappeared but each time it gets worse. Too many memories. But I need to be here. I just need to breathe and wait. Who knows? This could go from one of the most stressful days to the best day. I just have to find him.

I sit on a bench across the street, watching the traffic pass. I try to take in as much information as I can to stop myself from thinking about Oliver or the library. Whatever car drives past I try to recognise and tally the different brands. I find myself mumbling it under my breath to keep track as the traffic builds.

A well-dressed lady who appears to be in her late 20's sat next to me cradling a hot coffee in her hands. She chuckled lightly at my mumbling, startling me from my daze.

"Oh sorry!" she apologised lightly.

She's so short, I almost looked past her. "No, it's really fine, I was just… distracting myself."

She nods humbly, "That's fair. Waiting on the bus?" The lady points to the bus zone.

"Uh…" my energy to lie to this stranger flies out the window, "no, actually."

"Oh?" She shifts her attention to me, "What brings you to the bus stop seat then?"

I appreciate her humour and prepare my story. "I'm meeting a good friend of mine and my parents aren't allowed to know."

She doesn't contest my honesty, which surprises me. To be fair, it kind of sounds like I'm creating a euphemism for a drug deal.

"They must be pretty special then. You're Upper-class right?"

"I wish it wasn't that obvious. Are you also Upper-class?"

She shakes her head softly, her pin-straight platinum hair flicking back and forth with the motion, "Nope, just a very privileged Lower-class. Although, I'm about to quit my big girl job to follow my passion so I'm not sure how that will pan out"

"Congratulations, that's a big move to make."

"What about you? What's your story?"

She prompts me so carefully, I can't help but feel comfortable enough to tell her the basics. "Well, uh, I know someone from Lower-class and we haven't been able to organise a meet up recently. I just want to find him and make sure he's alright."

"That's quite the predicament. Being opposite classes, you can't exactly just call each other or anything." The bus rolls up to the stop and she stands up, looking down at me. "Good luck. I'm sure he misses you," She smiles softly, then turns and gets on the bus.

Then I'm left alone in my misery.

While I sit through the hours, a few other people sit down next to me. Some strike up conversations, others judge in silence. Every different one hears a new lie. None of them deserve to hear the truth.

I see a car pull into the carpark and Baylee gets out. She unlocks the shop, flipping the closed sign as she waltzes through. Now I have to decide, go in now and intrude on the opening staff, or wait a few minutes so it's less awkward. I tried for the latter, but after sitting in that spot for what felt like half my life, I was itching to move.

I dash across the street and push through into the library.

Baylee startles at my sudden appearance at first, but then she brushes it off. "Back early this time?"

I stand there awkwardly with my bag slung over my shoulder, feeling really out of place. "Yeah."

She smiles, "He hasn't come back Calvin."

Not only does my heart sink, it drowns. I just nod slowly and bite at my lip. "I figured as much."

"I'm sorry," she apologises, "Do you know why he's gone?"

"I was, uh, hoping to find out but... well I haven't seen him for a while."

Baylee fixes herself up, "Back before he came to this place almost every day, there were long periods where he would just disappear. Eventually, he always came back and he never left any outstanding books. Just like now."

I feel a little encouraged by her statement, but it doesn't make sense with this situation. I go to tell her what I know, "I really hope so but he-"

The barista interrupts me, "Calvin! Aren't you meant to be at school?" she asks with way too much enthusiasm for a morning.

"I've taken a few days off for study. I have a project and what better place than a library." I butchered that lie but she seems to take it.

She interrogates Baylee next, "I hope I'm not interrupting, but did you get the rosters sorted out? I can still organise them for you if you need."

Baylee nods, "Yeah I did so don't worry too much. I can forward it to you if you want to clarify it."

"That's fantastic, Jarod keeps thinking he has my shifts when I'm on barista, so I'll send it to him as well..."

The girls continue talking while I sneak out. I back towards the shelves, successfully evading being sucked into a conversation I know nothing about. I weave my way through them like I usually do. Naturally, my eyes wander the shelves, waiting for Oliver to jump out, or just hoping to catch a glimpse of him while he's browsing... he doesn't.

I came to our hideout. I know Baylee said he hasn't been here, but I really just want to clarify it.

I round the last shelf.

I stare into the space.

Someone cleared it.

It's gone, everything. Everything Oliver left is gone. The whole time I've known this place, the hide-away has never been cleared. Oliver always had his pile of books, the bean bags were always a certain way and no one ever bothered cleaning up the papers. But now the books are gone, the bean bags are stacked in one big pile and the floor is clear. It makes me sick and pulls at the small threads that are holding me together.

I want to scream or cry but I can't blame whoever cleaned this. I can't blame them for wiping out memories that they never knew existed. I wish I could.

I miss him so much, I really fucking do.

I dump my bag and hide it behind a beanbag. I just want to get out, but where do I go? I need to visit all the places I know he would go to, but why? It's a school day, Thursday, he would be at school if anything. I don't even know how visiting these places would help me. After some contemplation I decide that I still have so many hours to waste, so I may as well go somewhere. And besides, it might give me lasting hope that I'll find him. I count all of the places we've been other than the library: the park, that 90's-diner style restaurant and the mall. It didn't take long to decide to go to the place where we had our first date, Highland Park.

It's a long walk from the library, but that gives me time to compose myself. I don't need the gentle moments that occurred on our first date to be the thing that snaps those threads. I don't want that to be how our memories work. They should be happy, not something that brings me to my ultimate demise.

On the way, I look at every stranger. I must look crazy, and at this point, I very well might be. This is the stupidest thing I've done for a while.

I'm fairly sure that even if it was a weekend, I still wouldn't find Oliver at the park. He used to talk about how he isn't a morning person… at all. And I'm pretty sure that's what caused his mild addiction to caffeine. I remember once that Oliver said that he surprised his dad once by getting up before ten o'clock on a weekend. He also said that the only reason he gets up earlier on weekends was so he could see me, which seems to mean a lot coming from him.

Eventually, I made it to my destination. I'm not sure how long it takes but I walk around the entire garden. I visit everything it has to offer. The waterfalls, spectacular displays of flowers, lush fields and statues and water features. But I spend most of my time in the places we went, the places we spent the most time together. Where we had our first kiss, where he teased me in front of the waterfall and where we made-out and held each other in the grass, the first time that our date was interrupted.

I didn't want that day to end, and it hurts to think about it. Whether he's missing or whether he left. These could be the last memories I have of him.

I even walk all the way around the park to the long strip of empty road, the one we drove down. Some of my final minutes with Oliver. I walk until I reach the canopy, not seeing a single soul. I reach the fence. It's still cut, just like it was a week ago. I push the wire aside and walk through. I drag myself to the exact spot I set up our date. At this time of day, the large tree overhead casts a thick, cold shade.

Even if someone knew, no one would be able to tell we were here. And crumbs or rubbish left behind has been swept away by the wind, or collected by ants. Even the grass we pressed flat beneath our connected bodies has stood back up, grown taller even.

I lay down where he once lie. I told myself I wasn't crying, but I couldn't even guess how long the salty tears streamed down my face.

Once I can't take it anymore, I go back to the library. It's 3:46 PM when I push through the doors. I can't see Baylee anywhere to confirm if he's made it here so I head straight for the hideout.

I practically ran there, my brain filled with hope. I can just imagine it. He would be there and he would wrap me up in a hug. Then he would probably profusely apologise to me and tell me everything. But I round the corner and it's empty. Every spec of hope dies instantly.

I go and double check if Oliver had come, and he hadn't.

"There's still hope Calvin," Baylee tells me.

"I know there is," I say with a smile that I wish wasn't as fake as I know it is.

She pauses for a few seconds, "What are you going to do now?"

"I…" I have no clue. What am I going to do now? Where am I going to sleep? "Um, you don't have any ideas on somewhere a runaway teenager can sleep do you?" I ask her, slightly embarrassed that I hadn't really thought about this too much.

She smiles at me, "We have a small place upstairs you can stay. I just need to help pack up the store before I can get the room set up for you though."

Thank god.