“Are you looking forward to the summer?” I asked, looking for a conversation topic that wouldn’t be hard.
“After the exams, sure.”
“You’ll have months off.”
“Yeah, weeks when you’re both still at school, and I can only wait for my results.”
Oliver would be going into the sixth form in September, leaving us behind again. At least it was on the same campus this time, although sixth form students didn’t mix with the main school students. It was just another evolution of our friendship. I knew that, but I couldn’t help but feel more insecure about it, just like last time. I still wished we could go back and freeze what we’d had that first summer—capture our simple joy of being each other’s friends. But the world didn’t seem to work like that. I was starting to fear all the changes we’d have in our future.
“You’ll be fine, you’re super clever, and you study hard.”
“Isn’t a guarantee, but thanks.”
I changed the topic. “Are you going to the end of year ball?”
“Probably. I don’t know for sure.”
“I thought everyone went, like a tradition? The whole school turns up to watch everyone arrive in their limos and fancy cars.”
“If I go, I’ll go with friends. I’m not taking a date.” He raised his eyes to look at mine and left the words unsaid between us. There was a part of my heart that wanted nothing more than to be Oliver’s date. But then I thought about Maddison and knew I’d feel the same way about him. It was confusing to feel so protective over my best friends, and I knew my feelings for them weren’t just friendship anymore. The swirling sensation and butterflies in my stomach told me it wasn’t normal, but then our friendship had never been normal. And how could I split what I felt between them, or even start to define it?
It seemed like there were no safe conversation topics.
“You never mention your dad.” Oliver appeared to be suffering the same struggle as me and did a one-eighty in the conversation.
“No.” It was a topic that was always off the table. My mum barely mentioned him, and I couldn’t remember him that well. He’d left, I presumed, a couple of years before we’d moved. I hadn’t asked about him in years.
“Do you still see him?”
I shook my head. “Not since we’ve moved.”
“Do you miss him?”
I got off the bed and picked up one of the dragon ornaments from the shelf as if the little creature held the answer. My dad wasn’t someone I thought about, but now that Oliver had mentioned him, I wondered why. Why hadn’t I asked my mum about him? Something stopped me wanting to find out. I wasn’t sure what.
Not wanting to delve into complicated waters, I moved the conversation on again. “What do you want to study next year?” I asked. I knew what the answer was, but I couldn’t talk about my dad.
“If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine, just say. Maths, business, and biology, but you already know that.”
“Do you remember when we would build worlds with these guys?” I kept the little dragon in my hand and thought back to when our friendship was a simple thing. The stories we’d created inspired the love of books that now lined my shelves. The Hobbit, Lord of the Rings, Eragon… anything with magic and mystery, and I would happily lose hours in the stories.
“Sure, I do. Look, I’m sorry I brought him up. I promise I won’t again.”
“No, you didn’t know. I didn’t even know, I guess, I’ve just not given him much thought, and now I have…” I didn’t finish, and the words dried up.
“Look, why don’t you come over later for dinner? Mum’s making lasagne, and I know that’s your favourite. It will at least ensure Mads is on his best behaviour.”
“Okay.” I smiled, grateful that Oliver could read the signs and give me some space. I needed to speak to my mum.
“See you later then. I’ll text you.” He left, and I suddenly felt nervous about having this conversation with my mum—a long-overdue discussion.
“Mum!” I shouted down the stairs before going to look for her. “Mum, can we talk?”
Her shocked face appeared from the kitchen. “Sure, what do you want to talk about? Is it Oliver?”
“Oliver? No, why would I need to talk about him?” My eyebrows knitted together as I frowned.
She just tilted her head and offered a lop-sided grin. “Very well, what would you like to talk to me about?”
“Dad.”
She froze, her face expressionless before she turned away and went back into the kitchen.
“Mum?” I followed.
“Why do you want to talk about him?”
“Because we never have. I’ve never asked about him, not even before we moved. And I’ve suddenly realised that’s not normal. We’ve not had a single conversation about my father in over half of my life, and I don’t know why.”
She flicked the switch to start the kettle and kept her back to me.
“Mum!” I pushed.
“Your father left. He’s wanted nothing to do with us since.”
“Is that it?”
“He’s not a very nice man, Grace. We’re both better off without him, and I’m grateful you don’t remember him.” She didn’t turn around.
“Is that it?” I’d thought there would be more, or that she’d sit me down and explain everything. Not give me crumbs of information I could have guessed at myself. Frustration coursed through me, as I felt helpless to fill in the blanks I could see in this story.
“I don’t know where he is, so don’t ask about finding him.”
“Will you at least look at me?”
She turned around, and I saw the pain and anguish in her eyes—the eyes that looked nothing like mine. Hers were rich and dark, nothing like the light and clear blue of mine when the light caught them. I could have pushed her more, but I chose not to—at least, not today.
“I’m going to Oliver’s for tea,” I announced, not caring that she was already making dinner and had told me it would be ready at six. Before she objected, I fled to the safety of my room.
I picked up my phone to text Oliver but saw a message from Mads.
Sorry about earlier. Want to watch a film later?
I’m coming over for tea. Your mum’s doing lasagne.
What about after?
We could all watch something, I guess. I’ll be over soon.
Mads didn’t text back, and I was worried it was because I’d made his invitation about all of us.
After snuggling Bob and absorbing all of his purrs and affection, I headed over to see them both.
“Hey, Vivien.” She invited me in, and I could smell the lasagne from the door. I was lucky to be invited so regularly.
“The boys are in their rooms.”
“Thanks. Dinner smells great.” There was something about onions and tomatoes, the smell of baked cheese perhaps, that I couldn’t resist. I headed up the stairs and knocked on Mads door before pushing it open. “Hey.”
He was on his computer again, and my hope of speaking to him evaporated, but to my surprise, he turned it off and looked at me.
“Hey.” He was so much taller than me, towering over my five-foot-something.
“Sorry for earlier. Thank you for coming to watch.”
“I always come to watch,” I said in defence, wanting to point out it had been me on the sidelines over the years and not someone else.
“I know.” He stared at me, making me feel even smaller under his gaze. Mads took a step towards me, and my instinct was to move back—to keep some distance between us—but my feet didn’t comply, and my eyes remained locked with his.
My stomach danced, making me feel queasy, and I knew it wasn’t from hunger.
“Hey, Mads, Grace is coming over. Are you going out or not? Oh, Grace, hi.” Oliver barged into the room and looked between the two of us. “Mads? You said you wanted to go out?”
“Another time.”
The boys stared like they were
trying to drill holes into one another. I thought back to the first time I saw them, waving toy swords around and fighting. Perhaps brothers were always meant to fight? Was I just getting in the way, or trying to stop the inevitable? Maybe our friendship was always going to have an expiry date with all the challenges and changes you go through as you grow up. I wanted to keep fighting for what we had because I thought it was special.
But I couldn’t deny the shifting of my feelings as we grew up, sliding into something that resembled friendship but was so much more intense. It was bigger than I could contain and hard to ignore, but I kept trying. Our friendships depended on it.
Chapter 8
Grace Fifteen Years Old
The summer meant two things now. A birthday cake at the family dinner with Oliver and Maddison and weeks of hoping the rain would disappear and leave us in peace. But the end of summer would signify another change with the onset of another school year.
Oliver was doing his A-Level exams, and in my mind, that was the beginning of the end. After his exams, he’d be leaving to go to University—away from me, and away from Maddison.
The fears that had started to eat away at my insides two summers ago only took root and devoured more of my hope and strength with every month that passed. Oliver had gone to the sixth form, and the separation had jammed another wedge between us all. Maddison didn’t seem to notice because he was too busy being the centre of attention for the rest of our school year, especially in all the girls’ eyes. He was a star—on the sports field and in the halls at school. And he wasn’t happy unless he was winning at everything, and that included me.
Film invites turned to date invites or persuasive texts to go with him to parties. He demanded more and more of my time and refused when he could, anything that included his brother. I felt like they were tearing me in two. Of course, Oliver never pulled me in his direction. He’d never do that. He was stoic and kept out of the way of his brother like they’d had some secret agreement, which didn’t include me.
It was like our bubble had completely collapsed despite my feeble attempts at keeping it inflated.
Maddison saw Oliver leaving as a personal victory, over what, I didn’t know, but all I could see was our friendships falling apart and with it, my whole world felt like it was crumbling. I’d invested all my energy in keeping our promise alive—our friendship alive—and it still wasn’t enough. We all made the same vow that we’d never let anything get in the way of being best friends, but sometimes it felt like I was the only one who remembered it.
I’d agreed to meet Maddison for lunch. He’d taken to insisting we spend time together at school, at least when he felt like it. With Maddison, everything felt so critical. Do or die. Whereas Oliver was the calm between the two. Their personalities hadn’t changed but had grown more intense over the years. Maddison leant me his courage, but it was Oliver who offered me safe harbour, and in times of change and uncertainty, I needed both.
The bell sounded, and I filed out of art class towards the hall.
“Hey, Grace.” A boy I didn’t recognise came up to me and tried to block my path. I stopped and took a step around him. It might have looked rude, but I didn’t know this guy. However, it didn’t deter him.
“Wait up, what’s the matter, I just want to talk.”
“No, thank you,” I said politely, but with no room for misinterpretation. It wasn’t often people talked to me at school. Not beyond a handful of people I could call friends of a sort.
“Just give me a minute.” The guy put his hands out and rested them on my shoulders, physically stopping me from moving farther along. I finally looked up and stared daggers at him for laying a hand on me.
“Hey, jerk, get out of my way and take the hint.” But my comment only seemed to spur him on—his cocky smile not affected by my rebuff, until suddenly, he was no longer standing in front of me. His body flew out of my way as Mads grabbed him and hauled him from my sight.
Jeers, shouts, and chants all broke out around me as students came pouring around, smelling blood in the water. I was knocked from side to side as people vied for a better position around both of them. Maddison shoved the guy, and he stumbled back, but Mads followed up, shoving him again. His face was contorted with anger as he rained abuse down on the boy. Because right now, that’s what he looked like—a small boy cowering under Maddison’s rage. And watching, I couldn’t help but feel my heart thunder in my chest as a tingle of a sensation snaked around my stomach and infected my body.
This was my fault. I knew Mads was acting this way because the boy put his hands on me, and this was his way of defending me. The romantic part of my heart, buried somewhere underneath a mountain of confusing feelings towards both Oliver and Maddison, wanted to feel this—a surge of energy and triumph that Maddison’s feelings for me had driven him to this. Although, what did that mean my feelings were towards him, in return? I’d never had a boyfriend, and boys, apart from Mads and Oliver, stayed clear of me. I was old enough to know that feelings could be problematic, and I’d grown familiar with the idea that I loved them both in my own way—in different ways—but not enough to risk ruining our friendship.
The boy attempted to stand up to Mads, which didn’t work, and they ended up grappling, and I was sure I saw Mads land a punch.
“Hey, Maddison!”
Through all the commotion, I made out his voice as clear as day. Oliver dropped his bag at the edge of the hoard of students and pushed his way through to Mads. He grabbed him by the arms, wrenching him away from the boy. Mads fought Oliver to start with, turning his anger on him, before Oliver forced him to calm down, despite the obvious size difference.
My heart was in my mouth as I watched the fight carry on until everyone scattered like a shoal of fish that’d just sensed a predator. The deputy headteacher made an appearance and summoned both the Ray boys to follow him. Oliver looked towards me, seeking me out as I hung back. Without saying anything, he made sure I knew he’d take care of Maddison, nodding slightly and offering a tight smile. My heart stopped in my chest, freezing up as I stared at Oliver, desperate to believe this would be okay, while all Mads could do was scowl as he was marched off. He didn’t even glance in my direction.
I spent the rest of the day worrying my bottom lip to death, checking my phone every moment I could for messages from either of them.
Nothing. And neither of them were on the bus home.
“Grace?” Mum called as I burst through the door and dumped my bag before heading straight back out and over to see if they were home without answering her. Fear that Mads was in trouble hadn’t left me since watching him stomp off, despite Oliver being with him. Fighting at school wasn’t tolerated, and I didn’t want to think about what could happen to him. Because of me. I knew it wasn’t actually my fault, but I also knew that Maddison feeling overly protective of me had caused him to lash out at that boy.
My knuckles rapped frantically on the door, and a moment later, Vivien answered. She must have known I was a state because her usual carefree expression crashed to concern the moment she saw me. “What’s wrong?” she asked, ushering me inside and escorting me through to the living room.
“Have you heard from Oliver or Maddison?” My voice sounded panicked and jittery, and I looked down and tried to hide my hands that were vibrating with anxiety.
“Oh, boy, yes. I had the pleasure of collecting both of them just after lunch.” Her eyes drew together in a frown. “Don’t worry, honey. They are both grounded, and Maddison won’t be back to school for a week, but you don’t have to worry.”
“He’s been suspended?” I squeaked.
“Why don’t you go and speak to him yourself. I know he can be a handful but fighting at school is a new low.”
“Where’s Oliver?”
“They’re both in their separate corners, so to speak. He explained to me what happened, at least, which is more than I can say for my youngest. Go on up if you like. You’re likely to have more luck gettin
g through to him.”
I climbed the stairs up to the small landing with doors to my left and right. All the times I’d come up to see both of them, I’ve never thought too hard about which room to visit first. But today felt like it could set the tone for the rest of our friendship. I stood, my feet rooted to the ground for minutes, waiting, and hoping to make a decision.
“Hey, can I come in?” I brushed the door with my knuckles and pushed it a few inches so I could peek into the room.
Maddison shrugged at me as he continued to play on his computer, bashing the buttons on his controller and never lifting his eyes away from the screen. I sat on the bed, leaned back against the wall, and waited for him to say something. There was a pressure inside the room, constricting me and making my heart stammer and beat loudly in my chest.
“Are you okay?” I started.
“Sure.” Was all I got in return.
“Hey, talk to me. What the hell happened today?” His silent treatment was making me feel even more uncomfortable, and today was too much—for all of us.
“You tell me, Grace. Who the hell was that guy?” He threw his controller on the floor and turned to face me, anger, together with accusation, was etched across his face and directed at me.
“I don’t know. He just tried to stop and talk to me.”
“Well, he wasn’t getting the message.”
“So, you decided that you’d give it to him with your fist?” I leaned forward on the bed, annoyed that he was blaming me for all of this.
“Well no one else was going to, were they? I won’t bother next time.” He sulked and turned away from me, shutting off his computer before he turned towards the door.
I couldn’t believe the aggression he was throwing off. There was no way I was taking that after what he’d done today. “I didn’t ask you to come and defend me. He just spoke to me, jeez. I didn’t realise I couldn’t speak to anyone you didn’t approve of, Mads. What the hell?” My frustration and disappointment were evident and did the job. He stopped at the door, and I could see the conflict racing over his body, his arm twitching as he held the handle. Mads didn’t back down though—it wasn’t in his nature. He was stubborn beyond belief and had to win, even when he was wrong.
The Two Halves of my Heart: A Friends-to-Lovers Romance Page 7