Page 4 of The Rhythm of their Souls

It doesn’t help that I live in a trailer park and ride the same bus as him. You see, Bennett grew up with happily married parents. And no exaggeration, they live in a mansion on their own private road. So through his eyes, I’m just as useless as a pile of dog crap on his well-manicured lawn.

Early on, I discovered that you’re judged in school by where you live and the brands you wear. I remember when I wore my brand-new Payless sneakers to gym class years ago. I was happy for once and excited to wear them. Bennett destroyed any joy from my mind.

We were sitting on the bleachers, waiting for our gym teacher. I watched Bennett as he scanned the class, almost like he was looking for me. When our eyes met, he immediately brought his beady eyes to my shoes.

He lifted his finger, dramatically pointing at me. Then his wide mouth flew open. “Haha! Look, Olive got a new pair of shoes from Salvation Army.” It’s a memory I’ll never be able to shake.

It didn’t help the situation when his little conniving group of friends joined in with his laughter. So much anger and embarrassment built inside me, and all I could do was sit and let their pestering simmer out. I never wore those shoes again after that day because God forbid I wore a pair of shoes that didn’t have a printed logo on the side of them. How dare I be so careless.

If I wasn’t called out for my clothes or where I lived, he spat in my face about how skinny and poor I looked. This is just what I need, another reason to hate myself.

If he knew how disturbing my life was back at home, would he continue to be so cruel? Honestly, it would probably fuel his fire. I’ll never forget the time my mom let the power shut off, and I had to wear the same clothes two days in a row. You would have thought I was unaware of the very clothes on my back. He reminded me at least ten times. You are worthless, so useless that no one pities you. Good, that’s the last thing I want, pity.

There have been many times when I’d get home exhausted from playing the tough role against his bullying, that I’d walk in the door, head straight for my room, and plop on my bed screaming into my pillow as loud as I could. This couldn’t be normal. I’m only a child, so how can I bear so much stress and worry at this early age?

Bennett Weaver was a mean, snarky kid who got everything generously handed to him in life. And then there was me, the weird, defeated kid with an absent mother and father.

I was damaged, but I had a good heart. Our situation was a prime example of what’s wrong and right. I know I can stick up for myself, but what was the point? I did it for my best friend several times; no one would mess with her, and I wouldn’t allow it.

Maybe It’s because I don’t love myself enough to think I deserve the same treatment. All I’ve ever received is heartbreak. And if I was given this difficult life, then I was to endure all its suffering. Olive Sage Landers is a burden to society.

Chapter 4

Danielle turns up the radio and puts the sunroof down. The air is warm and smells of early summer. May is right around the corner. We’re heading to Taylor’s new house and should arrive around 7:30 p.m. I love our car rides together; we have our own free concert every time.

“I Got a Feeling” by The Black-Eyed Peas comes on the radio. Maybe this is a sign of a good night? I sure as hell could use some more positivity in my life right now.

Danielle and I sing every single word flawlessly. We do this with at least five more songs during our ride. She knows how to bring me out of my funky “moods.” I can’t help but smile at her presence; I’m so lucky to have her in my life. I’ve had many letdowns, but she has always been there for me.

My phone dings twice, and I glance down to see a new message.

Mom: Happy birthday, baby.

Mom: Have any plans for this evening?

Me: Thanks, Mom. Danielle and I are going to a small get-together.

Mom: Please be careful and don’t stay out too late.

Me: Sure thing. Love you.

Mom: Love you, Olive girl.

I haven’t visited Mom much, but she appears to be better. I’ve noticed a pattern with her. She goes a month or two without using drugs or alcohol but then relapses. I decided a while back to love her from a distance; being around her too much brings out a side of me I try to keep locked away.

It’s not necessarily her; it’s that house, too. Some memories painfully seep into my pores every time I step foot into that house. Nora’s treehouse and mine are the only things that haven’t been tainted.

I check in on her occasionally. I don’t have it in me to leave her without. Nora and I take turns keeping the power on at the trailer and food in the cabinets. Lately, it’s just been me here. With everything Nora has endured in recent years, I expect little from her.

Sometime later, Danielle pulls off into a gas station parking lot. “We are officially in Marshville. I’m going to get us some basic bitch White-Claws,” she says, full of excitement.

I nod my head at her. While she runs inside, I take a gander at my surroundings. I see nothing out of the ordinary; it seems to be a regular town with small shopping centers like it is back home. Not sure how Taylor came across this place or a boyfriend from here.

But it feels nice being in a different city where no one knows me. I can be anyone I want to be. I wish I could say the same for this house party, but I’m sure I’ll be running into many familiar faces. Yay me!

After leaving the gas station, we pull up to a two-story white vinyl house with brown shutters. It has a massive front porch, and it looks like her few neighbors are far away. Large trimmed bushes and dainty flowers are wrapped around the foundation. She must have a lawn care service; everything is shaped to perfection. I spot one tree over to the right side, which looks to be an apple tree with fruit dangling from thin limbs.

Overall, it is a nice house. We park along the side of the street. It already looks like a slew of people have scattered their cars throughout her yard.