The Night Olivia Fell. Christina McDonald

contact and looked down.

      I followed her gaze, but it took me a moment to realize that the person she was staring at was Olivia. My daughter was as white as the sheet she lay on. Her body was too still, as if all her dynamic energy had been trapped beneath the sheet draped over her.

      A tangle of IV bags and pumps surrounded the hospital bed. So many tubes and lines I couldn’t count them: down her throat, breathing for her, up her nose, keeping her stomach empty, flowering from her chest, recording her heartbeat. The ventilator next to the bed made rhythmic blip, shhhh noises.

      Her head was swathed in white bandages, stark against her face. She had a deep cut above her right eyebrow, a sickening black and purple bruise blooming across her left temple, and a spray of scratches across her nose and cheekbones.

      I stared at my daughter, and the agony I felt wasn’t just emotional but physical. A sharp pain wrenched in my chest so it seemed my heart must’ve stopped, but I could feel it, I could hear it; it betrayed me by continuing to beat when it should have frozen in my chest. The pain and impotence were white lightning searing through me.

      My gaze drifted to Olivia’s abdomen, still flat and smooth, no hint of the baby tucked within.

      Somewhere in the back of my mind I registered Jen leaving the room. The emotions piled up, threatening to crack me open, splintering me into a billion little pieces. I reached for Olivia’s hand, wanting – no, needing – to be connected to her.

      Her wrist lay limply in my hand, but something was missing. The silver charm bracelet Olivia always wore was gone.

      In its place was a string of black and purple bruises.

4

       OLIVIA

      april

      ‘That girl. Jesus. That was creepy,’ Tyler said the Monday after our field trip to the University of Washington. We were eating lunch at our usual table in the cafeteria, the one next to the neatly stacked towers of orange chairs used for pep assemblies.

      ‘I know, right!’ Peter said. His carrot-red head bobbed in agreement. ‘What was that about? Do you have a sister we don’t know about, Liv?’

      I shook my head emphatically. ‘No way.’

      Next to me, Tyler shoved a handful of fries into his mouth. ‘She was totally your doppelgänger,’ he said. ‘My dad says everybody has one somewhere.’

      ‘I guess.’ I set my peanut butter and jelly sandwich down, my appetite suddenly gone. I didn’t want to talk about this. Why wouldn’t they just shut up?

      ‘She had the same butt chin, too,’ Peter added. ‘She looked just like you.’

      Tyler frowned at Peter. I ground my teeth together, waiting for Tyler to make some snappy clapback. Tyler always called my chin dimple a butt chin. Not in a mean way, just in a Tyler way. But I knew he wouldn’t like anybody else saying it.

      But Tyler went back to his fries. I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.

      Madison laughed and bit into a carrot stick. ‘Having a chin dimple doesn’t mean you’re related to somebody, you idiot.’

      ‘She’s not my sister, all right?’ I snapped. ‘I’ve never even met her before.’

      Everybody went quiet. My heart pulsed in my neck and I looked down. I felt them all exchanging looks. I was the peacemaker. I never lashed out or got involved in arguments.

      I picked at the edge of my sandwich until it was as bare as a stone. I hated the dry feel of crust in my mouth. When I was a kid my mom would cut the crusts off my sandwich, snip away the square edges, and cut a little bite-size hole in the middle so it looked like an O. I suddenly wished she were here to reassure me.

      Madison abruptly changed the subject. ‘Sooooo, my brother’s coming home next week.’

      My head snapped up and blood rushed to my cheeks. I let my hair swing in front of my face to hide it, chewing hard on a strand of hair.

      Tyler snorted and dropped an arm around my shoulders, pulling me closer to him. ‘Can he score us some pot?’

      ‘Tyler!’ I shushed him.

      ‘Shut up, fuck-face.’ Madison’s dark eyes flashed. ‘It was only one time. He was just stupid enough to get caught.’

      ‘Wait. I thought he was in New York. Isn’t that where your parents sent him after he got caught dealing?’ Peter’s freckled face creased with confusion.

      Madison scowled. ‘Once! And it was only pot.’

      She was mortified that everybody knew Derek had been sent to a private East Coast school to ‘reform’ him. We all drank sometimes and a few of our friends smoked pot, but only stoners and losers actually dealt it.

      Peter’s eyes darted between Madison and Tyler, sensing the tension.

      ‘Olivia,’ he said, changing the subject quickly. ‘You don’t have swimming practice tomorrow, right? Could you help me with some chemistry shit later? I’m on that homework grind, trying to catch up again.’

      ‘Sure.’ I darted a look at Tyler. His brows folded down. I could tell he wasn’t happy with me studying alone with Peter.

      He could be a little possessive sometimes. It wasn’t like I’d ever cheated on him or anything. He was just like that: all macho on the outside but sort of insecure on the inside. I knew it was just because he loved me, though.

      ‘Thanks, dude.’ Peter grinned at me.

      I scraped myself out of the hard metal chair. ‘I’m going outside for some fresh air. Wanna come, Mad?’

      Madison unfolded her slender frame and stood, brushing off her black leggings and black sleeveless sweater. She tossed a hard glare at Tyler and Peter and huffed toward the door.

      We stepped into the cool belly of April and headed for the quad, huddling on a bench near the fountain. We were the only students around, the air still too crisp to sit outside.

      Clouds raced overhead as if they were on a conveyor belt; one minute it was sunny, the next threatening rain. Squinting at Madison, I tried to judge her mood.

      I fiddled with the bracelet on my left wrist, pulling the cool metal through my fingers, back and forth.

      ‘Sorry about Derek,’ I offered.

      ‘’S okay. Sorry about that girl.’ She picked a hangnail. ‘I’m sure she isn’t, like, your sister or anything.’

      I appreciated her saying it. No matter how moody Madison could be, I knew I could always count on her. It’s probably why we were still best friends all these years later.

      We’d met in kindergarten and became friends when it turned out we both hated playing dress-up. I didn’t want anyone knowing my mom made me wear long underwear under my clothes all winter. Madison just wanted to play outside.

      ‘Do you think you’ll, you know, look her up?’ Madison asked.

      I shrugged. I didn’t want to admit I’d talked to her in the bathroom at the University of Washington.

      Up close she didn’t look quite as much like me as I’d thought. Even though her eyes were the exact same shade of green as mine, hers were slightly wider spaced. The dimple in her chin wasn’t as pronounced as mine, her cheekbones not as sharp, her nose a little smaller. Still, she made me uncomfortable.

      She’d dried her hands, then leaned casually against the sink.

      ‘I’m Kendall Montgomery,’ she said. She flipped her long blonde hair over one shoulder in that way bitchy rich girls did.

      ‘I’m Olivia,’ I replied.

      There