My Only (34 page)

But when I closed my eyes again, the only thing I could think about was Olivia tel ing me that I may never get over losing her, but I had to do my best to embrace the experience and move on. Thinking hard, my eyes opened again.

Experiencing her had given me the confidence I now had. She’d let me know that I was worth something. She’d told me that I didn’t have to live in the shadow of my brother. Loving her had awakened the piece of me that had been frozen at birth. I no longer wanted to be cocooned safely within my highly guarded wal s. I wanted to feel the good, the bad, the great, and the average experiences life had to offer.

While I wanted Olivia to be lying in my bed with me, she was stil the reason I got up, took a shower, got dressed, and reported to practice every day.

There were a few people stil tapping out a rhythm on their drums. After I stretched, I sat down next to my set and beat the rhythm with them.

“Wow, you’re pretty awesome at drumming.”

I must’ve been real y into the beat because I hadn’t heard anyone come up. When I glanced toward the sky, the sun shining in my face making me squint, I saw the form of a girl. I stood. She was about half a foot shorter than me. Recognizing the face, I didn’t know her name. She was one of the girls from the color guard that performed with the band.

My first instinct was to look away, maybe even
turn
away. But then the sun caught her hair. She had the most beautiful honey-colored hair.

“Thanks,” I said, feeling my stomach do a little somersault.

“You must like to dance then, too, right?” I squinted at her. No one had asked me about dancing since Olivia. My expression must have made her nervous because she shifted her weight and flipped her hair over her shoulder. “You know, with that kind of innate rhythmic ability, I would assume you’d be great at dancing, too.”

This felt like a defining moment. I could see she was growing more uncomfortable with every silent second, so I pushed myself to speak. “Life’s too short not to dance.”

As I took the hand she offered, she said, “I’m Hope.”

I let out a heavy breath. Her name was Hope. With a grin, I said, “What a beautiful name.” As we walked off the field together, I silently thanked Olivia for giving me the strength to get out of bed this morning. There was a pang of sadness as I thought of her, but I was fol owing her philosophy. I had my arms around the experience, embracing it. I would never be
over
her, but maybe I was ready to move on.