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“Frump and I play – played,” Oliver corrected, “when the book was closed. What about you?” he asked, spinning around on his heel. He had to speak louder than usual to be heard over the cars tearing past. “Do you play chess?”
Delilah shook her head. She read; that was just about all she did, even before her dad left. But she only fell further into books after that. “I really just read,” she explained. “But I’d love to learn, if you’d teach me?”
He grinned. “I’d be happy to,” he said, and she couldn’t help smiling too. It had only been six days since she’d read the new ending and pulled him into the real world, and they had got on ‘like a house on fire,’ in her mom’s words. He was staying with them, too. Thankfully it was school holidays, so she wasn’t busy all day.
They were wandering into town and somehow, the conversation had turned to games. Delilah used to play games. When her mom and dad were still together, they’d had board game nights and played all manner of things, but her dad had taken most of those with him when he left. Her mom didn’t have the time, and there weren’t many things one could play on one’s own.
Oliver started walking ahead of her, looking around at the trees, the sky, and the houses just over the fence. He was still in awe of the real world and it was wonderful to watch. Only he was distracted by the birds sitting on a power line and didn’t notice that he’d begun to wander towards the road.
He didn’t notice when he wandered onto the road.
Tires screeched on the asphalt as a red car swerved as not to hit him. Oliver had frozen halfway into the nearest lane and another car whipped past, a loud, blaring honk jolting him back to awareness just after Delilah reached him. She grabbed the back of his jacket, clutched the thin plastic fabric, and pulled him back onto the pavement. Oliver stumbled and almost tripped on the curb, but he was out of harm’s way.
Her heart hammered in her chest and she let go of her vice grip on his jacket. “What were you thinking?” she yelled as Oliver turned to face her. Idly she realised she was trembling with the force of the emotion and adrenaline crashing through her “Oliver, what the hell were you thinking?”
He’d walked out onto a road. A main road, where the speed limit was forty miles an hour, and he’d just stepped out into the middle of it. If she hadn’t been fast enough, if the driver of the red car hadn’t been paying as much attention, he… he would’ve…
“Delilah, calm down,” Oliver said, but she ignored him.
He could’ve died. He’d only been in the real world for six days, and he could’ve died from a car accident. “Calm down? Ollie, do you know what you just did?” She wanted to look him over, make sure he wasn’t hurt, but once she threw her arms around him she couldn’t bring herself to let go. He was standing, and he didn’t seem to be in pain, yet she asked if he was okay anyway.
“I’m fine,” Oliver replied, and hugged her back. But there was confusion in his voice and he didn’t sound startled, or even surprised. She just shook once, as she held back a silent sob, and held him tighter. They must have made a sight but Delilah had long since outgrown caring.
Her life was getting better, but there were still precious few things that were good; her mom, Jules, and Oliver. The idea of losing one of those people was unthinkable. And maybe, as she tried but couldn’t bring herself to let go of him, she was overreacting. But she slowly edged away from the road and didn’t let go.
“Delilah,” Oliver started, and his voice was measured and careful in the wake of her anger. “I have to say, I don’t know what I was thinking. Nor do I know what I just did, other than trip over the curb and give you a fright.”
She chuckled at the notion that her fierce, angry worry had been nothing more than a fright. And, judging by the way Oliver was smiling when she did step away from him so they could talk, that had been his intention. “You walked out into traffic,” she said, serious again, and shifted her gaze to look at her feet. “People drive fast down this road, and you just stepped out into the middle of it without a care. And you almost got hit.” She stared at Oliver again, embarrassment at how she was reacting aside. He needed to understand this. “If you get hit by a car going at that speed–” she gestured to the road, “–chances of surviving are around two in five.” Not to mention that they couldn’t afford hospital bills.
However, Oliver didn’t look concerned. “I’ve been stabbed more times than I can count. I’d survive, even if it hurt,” he said.
What? This wasn’t the book. There wasn’t a time when the book closed for everything to revert back to the way it was. However, it’d been a little less than a week since Jessamyn Jacobs wrote Oliver out of the book.
If Delilah entered into a fantasy world where she would always live, she wouldn’t lose her survival instinct in a matter of days. Even if she knew she’d be alright she would still shy from danger. That was why Oliver was unbelievably calm about this; he wasn’t used to the idea that he could die.
He was still watching her, more curious than concerned. It just about made her sick.
“Because you could die,” she muttered, her words sounding bitter despite the anxiety-induced ache forming in her stomach. There were any number of potentially lethal things in daily life; crossing streets, handling knives, and cooking were the first to spring to mind. Oliver was smart and sensible, but he hadn’t been taught those things. She hadn’t thought to teach him. “You can actually die here, Ollie. You won’t just wake up when the book is closed. There isn’t a book anymore. What happens sticks around.”
Oliver nodded, but he looked vaguely startled. “I’m sorry, Delilah,” he said, and she wanted to shake him because he didn’t need to be sorry, he just needed to understand. She knew he understood this. “I’m sorry I frightened you, and that I didn’t think. I am fine, though, so can you keep showing me around?” He offered her a smile and a hand to hold.
It was a peace offering and a promise to do better. She swallowed the lump forming in her throat. He didn’t need to do better, there wasn’t anything he could change. There was just a conversation they should’ve had days ago, and a stern reminder from the universe that they hadn’t. Now, yelling seemed like it had been the wrong thing to do. “I’d love to,” she said, her voice a little louder than a mumble. She took Oliver’s hand and they started off together, a little further from the edge of the road.