The Girl in the Garden.
Ms. Gonzalez thought it was a winner from the very beginning. It made her cry the first time she read it. “It’s heartbreaking,” she said, brushing a tear from her cheek. Then she asked: “Is it about your dad leaving?”
“I don’t know” was my response.
The opening line: Arturo sat on a bench under a weeping willow, a magic umbrella with its long hanging vines like locks of hair from a beautiful girl. It takes place by the lake in Boston’s Public Garden. The story is about two people who fall in love over a series of long evenings while sitting, talking on the bench. Then the girl disappears and Arturo’s heart shatters.
“What’s got you all happy?” A shout pulls at me and I turn to see Ash and Jada running across Commonwealth Ave. In a matter of seconds they are beside me in the park and the sound of traffic traveling down the street on either side seems far away. As my body and mind reawaken to the world, a grin spreads across my face until it becomes huge. My friends smile back at me and suddenly I feel nervous to say my news out loud.
“Tell us,” Jada demands.
“We couldn’t wait till dinner,” Ash explains.
My two friends are the only people besides Ms. Gonzalez who read my story—read every draft and talked me through every word, sentence, and idea I hemmed and hawed about. They listened, too, sitting on the floor of my room, full of patience, as I told them about Ms. Gonzalez’s suggestion that my dad somehow crept into my writing without my permission, without my awareness. Without an invitation.
“So did you get in trouble with Ms. Lewis?” I stall.
“Olivia.” Ash’s impatience grows.
“Well?” Jada has my arm now.
“I won,” I whisper.
“First prize?” Ash’s voice is hesitant. Hopeful.
“First prize,” I confirm.
Suddenly the three of us are screaming and jumping up and down and doing silly, celebratory dances until we work ourselves into a sweat.
“As soon as Sister June showed up to get you out of class, we totally knew. Didn’t we?” Ash turns to Jada for confirmation and Jada is nodding her head yes.
“It hasn’t really hit me yet.”
“Don’t worry, it will. Wow.” Jada’s mouth forms a big O.
“He gave me the news in person.”
“The author?” Ash asks.
“Yeah. It was crazy. Surreal.”
“Was he nice?”
“So nice.” All the feelings from earlier this afternoon come rushing back and my face flushes with the memory. “I just stood there, soaking it up and telling myself over and over, This is really happening, this is really happening, and wanting to pinch myself to make sure.”
“I’m so happy for you,” Jada says.
“Well, I’m glad because it really would be a shame to waste that brain of yours,” Ash says, with a playful roll of her eyes. “Did you tell your mom yet?”
“No. I’m waiting to tell her in person. Want to come back to the house with me?”
“Yes,” they say.
“Mom is going to faint.” I laugh when I try to picture her expression.
“We’ll watch out for falling bodies then. Let’s go,” Jada says, and the three of us cross the street toward my house to tell my mother the good news.
The Gospel of Olivia Peters. Ha.
Jada beats me up the front steps and flings open the front door and I go flying through the foyer and into the living room. I swoop down on my mother, who is on the couch drinking her afternoon tea and talking to Father MacKinley, our parish priest, having one of their weekly chats. Ash and Jada occupy Father with polite hello, how are you’s, while I wrap my arms tight around Mom and say, “I won!” She gasps and draws me close, crying out, “Olivia, I’m so proud of you!” and by now Ash and Jada have explained things to Father and I hear them laughing, Father MacKinley exclaiming, “Oh, that’s wonderful,” and I think how if this was a scene in a story it would be the moment when the protagonist feels the world is made entirely and perfectly of love.
ON FATE
THE NEXT DAY ASH, JADA, AND I WALK TO HOLY MARY University after school so I can register for my summer class. We get detoured the second we arrive by all the guy potential. Even though spring semester exams are in full swing, students are everywhere, enjoying the weather. Some lie on blankets in the sun, some play Frisbee. Here and there others sit reading with their backs against the trunks of the old, gnarled apple trees dotting the edges of the quad. I am already in love with the idea of being a college student here. For a couple of months at least.
We decide to wait for my sister—Greenie’s living on campus through the summer—by the steps in front of Gregory Hall, right at the edge of the quad in prime people-watching territory.
“It’s okay, you know.” Ash turns to me.
“What is?”
“To appreciate the hot guys checking you out,” Jada says, but is unable to tear her eyes away from the soccer game to our left.
“How do you know they aren’t checking you out?”
“Um, because they’re not looking at us.” Ash says this like she’s stating the obvious, but to me, nothing in the boy department is ever obvious.
“Or maybe it’s the fact that we scream Sacred Heart High School.” The three of us are still wearing our uniforms, plaid skirts and all, and stick out like a sore thumb.
“All I’m saying is that if you’re not careful, you’ll break some hearts this summer.”
“I will not,” I protest. “You know I’m not like that.”
“Tell that to Will Porter.”
“I just kissed him at a dance.”
“Yes, after leading him on for six months and then—” Jada holds up her hands in a heart, her attention no longer on the soccer game, and then cracks the heart open.
“Can we please not talk about this again?” Jada gets a glare from me for the physical demonstration. “Will Porter didn’t even like me which is why it didn’t go anywhere.”
“You are blind sometimes.” Jada turns back to her boy-watching.
I cross my arms over my chest, eyes darting around, self-conscious now that people, boys, are looking at me and somehow I am simply oblivious to it.
“Good thing we go to an all-girls school,” Ash says, trying to lighten up the mood again. “And don’t deny the fact that your eyes are practically popping out of your head.”
“Not true,” I say, but Ash is right. There are cute guys everywhere I turn and it’s impossible not to notice. It’s as if HMU decided to hold a cute guys festival this afternoon.
“Let’s get a better view,” Jada says, dragging the two of us closer to the soccer game. The sun shines above the gothic, ivy-covered buildings, giving everything and everyone a summery glow. The grass feels lush through my thin-soled flats. We eventually stop under a nearby tree, shading ourselves from the sun. Jada continues speaking but I no longer catch anything.
I’m distracted by a boy.
My heart begins to pound. He’s bouncing a soccer ball—knee to knee to instep to knee—diagonally to my right. It’s difficult not to move closer, like he suddenly has me in his gravitational pull, and I can’t help but admire his dark features, the way his T-shirt shifts against his body as he moves, so fluid, so graceful and quick to meet the ball as it ascends, descends, ascends with every bounce.
“Olivia. Hey.” Ash snaps her fingers in front of my face and I start. She is grinning. “See something you like?”
“No,” I warn. Ashley is famous for acting rash. “Don’t get any ideas.”
“Moi? Ideas?”
I take two big steps away from her, just in case.
“Olivia!”
I turn and see my sprite of a sister half running, half walking toward us, dragging her boyfriend, Luke, behind her. Greenie and Luke have been courting—yes, courting, as in the olden days—since January. He’s also an HMU student and super Catholic like she is. When they are only a few paces away,
Greenie drops Luke’s hand and soon I am engulfed in a hug.
“Congratulations on your big win! I’m so happy for you.” Greenie speaks into my shoulder since she is a full head shorter. “Hey, Jada. Ash.” She pulls back, giving them a wave.
“Nice work, Olivia,” Luke says.
“Thanks, Luke. Good to see you, as always.” Luke gives me a guy-style hug—a one-arm-around-the-shoulders squeeze—and then steps away to say hi to someone he knows passing by, giving Greenie and me space to do our sisterly catching up.
“I’m not at all surprised.”
“I wish people would stop saying that.”
“That’s because we weren’t surprised, either,” Ash explains to Greenie.
“You’ve always been the smart one in the family.”
“New topic, please.”
“Tell me all about Father Mark. What was he like?” Greenie wants to know.
“You haven’t met him? But he teaches here.”
“He’s one of HMU’s trophy professors. Impressive for the school to list as faculty but only on campus, like, once a year. The summer class you’re taking, for example.”
“He didn’t strike me as the inaccessible type,” I say, recalling our encounter yesterday, feeling thrilled all over again. “But to answer your question: he was really nice. I was a bit starstruck. It felt like a big deal.”
“He is a big deal. I bet Mom freaked when you told her about winning. She thinks he’s God’s gift to the novel, just like you,” Greenie adds.
“Freak she did,” Jada confirms, and proceeds to relay my mother’s reaction in minute detail, followed by Father MacKinley’s, until my cheeks are as red as Greenie’s sundress.
“So,” Ash says, after the embarrassing commentary subsides. “Who is that guy over there? I think Olivia would like an introduction.”
“Ashley Williams, don’t you—” I start, but my protest is wasted because Greenie is gone before I can stop her, tugging on Luke’s arm. He bends down so she can whisper in his ear, turns toward the soccer game, and soon he is off walking toward soccer boy. “I am going to kill you. And Greenie’s next.”
“No you won’t. You love us too much.” Ash moves away from my reach just in case. “Maybe a college boy will better be able to handle your many charms,” she says, and gives me her I’m totally innocent face.
“Whatever, Ash.”
Greenie wears a grin when she returns. “So! You like Jamie Grant.”
“Don’t you have exams to study for or something?” I say, and roll my eyes skyward, wishing myself out of this situation.
“Everyone here knows who he is,” Greenie says, ignoring my question. “He’s a perfect specimen of the male species, after all.”
“Please, Greenie…” My voice fades when I see Luke walking our way with the boy whose name is apparently Jamie and another guy. “Doesn’t anyone here study?” I wonder under my breath.
“Look who’s coming over to say hello,” Ash says, giddy, rubbing her hands together in anticipation of watching me fumble my way through a conversation with a hot college boy.
“Sam and Jamie,” Luke says when the three of them arrive, “this is my girlfriend, Greenie, her sister, Olivia,” he says and I want to hug him for not qualifying me as little or worse, kid, “and Olivia’s friends Ashley and Jada.”
There are handshakes all around, not to mention shaking in general on my part out of nerves, especially when Jamie catches my eyes.
“I’m Jamie,” he says, extending his hand.
“Olivia Peters,” I say, taking it, holding on a little too long.
“Nice to meet you,” says the friend.
I try to tear myself away from Jamie but I can’t. I’m fixated on the thin silver chain around his neck, a tiny cross, just visible above his faded T-shirt. I am intoxicated by his nearness, bordering on mesmerized.
“I’m Sam,” the friend adds, and I have to focus on him for real. I don’t want to be rude.
“Nice to meet you,” I say, feeling grateful when Jada takes over, happy to steer Sam’s attention away from me to her.
“So you go to Sacred Heart?” Jamie asks.
“We’re going to be seniors there.” Despite the fact that I’m still wearing my uniform, I want to seem as mature as any other girl walking around the HMU quad.
“Luke said you’re taking a class here this summer—well, the class,” he says, sounding impressed. “It’s virtually impossible to get a spot in Father Mark’s seminar, you know. You are one lucky person. Though, Luke was quick to brag that it wasn’t luck, but because you won a big writing contest.” His smile is brilliant and I bask and glow in its light. “Sam and I are both trying to get the endless signatures of approval we need to get into it. Sign our souls over to the devil, that sort of thing.”
Did I hear him right? “You’re taking Father Mark’s seminar?”
“Trying to,” he corrects me.
“I’m sure you’ll get in,” I say, thinking, Please, let Jamie in!
So we stand there, Jamie and I, smiling at each other. Shy. Neither of us knowing what to say next.
“On that note,” Greenie comes to the rescue, grabbing my arm, pulling me toward Gregory Hall since I am in a bit of a daze. “I’m going to walk Olivia over to the registrar,” she calls back over her shoulder.
Luke, Jamie, Ash, and Jada and Sam—deep in conversation now—follow behind us.
“Yes. Right,” I say, coming to. “Registering for class.”
“Yes, my dear. The real reason you came here today, remember?” Greenie whispers into my ear, chuckling. “Well, and to see me.”
“Absolutely.”
“That started off well,” Greenie says, nonchalant. Much subtler than Ash. “He was all dreamy-eyes for you.”
“Do you think?”
“Definitely. Though, no surprise there.”
“Oh, come on, G.”
“I’m not sure what I think of you going out with a college guy.”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself. I may never see him again.”
“Doubtful. Besides, you never know, he might get into Father Mark’s class…” Greenie glances back at everyone, still following behind us. “Looks like Jada and Sam have made, um, a connection.”
“They’ll be trading contact info before we leave,” I say, turning to look at the two of them, eyes glued to each other, talking about what, I wish I knew. If only I had Jada’s powers of boy-conversation.
We cross the wide, slate courtyard and Greenie stops in front of the door to Gregory Hall. “We’ll wait outside for you. I’ll keep an eye on Ash and Jada. Make sure no one wanders off.” She takes in the scene Jada and Sam are making now, their heads thrown back laughing, like they’ve known each other forever. Then, turning back to me, she says, “Go straight down the hall, through the center of the building, and you’ll see the registrar’s office on the right.”
“Sounds like a plan.” I take one last look at Jamie—who smiles when our eyes meet—before I grab the handle to the entrance hoping it will keep me from floating away with giddiness. I pull on the heavy door and feel the air-conditioning rush outside. An old-fashioned directory is mounted on the wall to the left, the kind with the white block letters that you can arrange and rearrange along the grooves. It tells me that the “Regstrar”—it’s missing the i—is room 132. Mosaic tiles in shades of red and cream are set into the floor and form diamond patterns with the HMU crest at their center. I move through the corridor slowly, taking in the beauty of the carved wood designs between the door frames, until I reach the middle of the building and stop for a moment to look up. A cathedral ceiling reaches four stories high, with stained-glass windows at the very top that sparkle a million colors in the sun.
It’s stunning.
Maybe I’ll go to college here like Greenie, I think as I move on, eventually arriving at the registrar.
“How can I help you?” The man behind the counter smiles when I walk through the door.
“I’m here to sign up for Father Mark Brendan’s summer seminar,” I say, as Sister June instructed this morning at school.
The man’s face falls, anticipating my disappointment. “You need special permission from the professor. I’m sorry—I won’t be able to do anything without his signature, the English chair’s signature, and the dean’s.”
“But I have special permission,” I explain, feeling a burst of pride as I present the paperwork Sister June gave me.
He glances at the letter and picks up the phone. “Dr. Schaeffer. You have someone here to see you. For Father Mark’s class,” he adds before hanging up.
A man in a coat and tie steps out of a fancy adjoining office.
“You must be Olivia Peters,” he says, approaching the counter. “I’m Dr. Schaeffer, Dean of Undergraduate Studies.” He smiles and offers his hand, which I take.
“Um, yes, I’m Olivia. Hi. Nice to meet you.”
“Father Mark made sure we had everything ready for our special new student.” Kind eyes blink behind Dr. Schaeffer’s horn-rimmed glasses. “Congratulations.”
“Thank you. Wow. How nice of him.”
“I’ve known Mark for many years—he’s been trying to get this contest going for a long time and is understandably excited to have the first winner announced. It’s a great honor for HMU, too.” Dr. Schaeffer pushes a form across the counter and hands me a pen. “All you need to do is sign here to make it official.” He points to a line marked with an X. “Here, too. Then your initials here.”
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