Breaking Beautiful (21 page)

He breathes in. “The vacation was fun. Snowboarding was excellent, and his condo was so cool. I wish you could have—” He trails off. “Everything was good until two days ago. I went out boarding, and when I came back they were fighting, screaming at each other. He accused her of taking some money from his wallet. I wanted to believe that he was lying, that my mom wouldn’t—” Blake swallows. “But I could see the way her hands were shaking, and the red around her eyes, and I knew. It had been almost a year.”

I’m rubbing Blake’s shoulder, trying to keep him warm, or offer some comfort.

“He threw her out. He said I could stay, that he would put me on a plane home the next morning. But I couldn’t let her be
alone, and I was too pissed off at Greg to use a plane ticket he bought—stupid, I know. I took two hundred dollars with me. Grandma told me not to tell Mom I had it.” He swallows. “I didn’t, but most of it was gone.”

I squeeze his shoulder; my heart is aching to take away his pain. “I couldn’t call Grandma for more money. I couldn’t let her know Mom had …

“Greg called us a cab, but by the time we got to the bus station, we had missed the last bus, so we had to sleep there. It was cold and the benches were hard and metal. There were these creepy guys hanging around, saying things to Mom and staring at her, but she slept like it was no big deal. The next morning she barely talked to me at all—just asked if there was enough money left for her to get some coffee.

“My car was at her apartment, and by the time we got there I was so mad that I just left. Left her standing there like some kind of stray dog—her hair all over the place and makeup smeared across her cheeks. I didn’t even make sure she got back into her apartment.” He buries his face in his hands.

“Blake, I—” but there isn’t anything for me to say, no words—nothing that will help him.

He runs his fingers through his hair, exhausted. “My car broke down so I had to walk the rest of the way here.” He stands up. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be dumping this on you. I’ll go.”

I reach for his hand. “No, stay.” The pain in his eyes seeps into my chest—rain on my ocean. “Please.” I stand up. “You need some dry clothes. I’ll go find something.”

I find a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt in my dad’s drawers. Briefly I consider underwear, but that would be way weird.
He’ll drown in Dad’s clothes, but at least they’re dry. Blake goes into the bathroom to change. I wait until he’s out before I change in my bedroom. I take a long time because I’m trying to process all of this—Blake, here, his mom, and me.

When I come out, Blake is sitting on a towel on the couch and staring at nothing. He looks so lost and hurt that I want to put my arms around him and hold him until he smiles again. But I can’t bring myself to get that close to him. Instead I get a pillow and a dry blanket from the linen closet.

“I think you should stay here tonight.” I hand him the pillow. “It’s late and I don’t want to drive you home in this mess. Is Grandma Joyce home yet?”

He wraps his arms around the pillow. “Tomorrow night.” He starts to stand. “I don’t have to stay. I can just—”

“Sit down,” I say. “We covered the ‘sorry’ part. You’ve been through a lot. You’re allowed to freak out.” I’m using the same words he used on me in the cave—trying to get him to smile—but mostly so he remembers how much I owe him.

“Allie, I can’t—”

“Sit,” I say, and to reinforce that this is a command, not a request, I push against him.

He sits down fast and I end up on his lap. He pulls me against his chest and buries his head in my neck. “Thanks for being here.”

My face is burning when I pull away. I scoot to the edge of the couch and curl my legs underneath me. Then I pick up the pillow and motion for Blake to lie down on my lap. After he does, I tuck the blanket around his shoulders.

Emotion and exhaustion overcome him. In a couple of minutes
his deep, even breathing mixes with Sasha’s snoring. Stupid cat slept through everything.

I can’t relax with Blake’s head on my lap. I have this freaked-out, guilty feeling. Like I’m in trouble. Like someone is going to catch us together.

“No one will ever love you the way I do.”

I’ll never forget the look on Blake’s face the first time I saw him after he had spent eight months in Reno and nearly three in juvie. I was kissing Trip. I think Trip made sure that was the first thing Blake saw. The message came through loud and clear. I’d given up on him, the way everyone else in Pacific Cliffs had. I hadn’t tried to write him, or call, or anything while he was gone. Instead I had hooked up with Trip. I’d been with him for almost the whole time Blake was gone.

He didn’t say anything to me for nearly three months. When we passed in the hall at school his face was blank, like I wasn’t even there. Then one day he caught me alone at school when I was on my way to the bathroom during class.

“I don’t like the way he treats you,” he blurted out, something he had been holding on his tongue for a long time.

“What?” My heart started pounding. How could he know anything?

“I said, I don’t like how Trip treats you.” This time every word was clipped and precise, bitten off with anger.

I ducked my head and tried to push past him. “It’s none of your business, Blake.”

He put his hand on my shoulder and stopped me. When I looked into his eyes, I could see concern, and pain, and frustration there. It made me want to dissolve in his arms and tell him everything. Instead I pulled away and kept walking.

“Allie,” he called after me. “Don’t—” That was as far as he got before Trip grabbed him from behind. That happened a lot with Trip. He’d just appear when I thought I was alone—like he was always watching me.

Trip put Blake in a headlock, choking him until Blake was coughing. “Were you touching my girlfriend?”

“Stop it!” I screamed.

Trip’s eyes rested on me for a second—cold and angry. He threw Blake against a metal garbage can. Blake hit the edge so hard it sliced into his forehead. By the time a teacher came to break it up, Blake was bleeding all over the floor.

Trip told the principal that Blake had been harassing me in the hall, and I backed him up. Half the school had heard me scream, “Stop it!” Trip said that he was trying to get Blake away from me and that he tripped and fell against the garbage can. I agreed with Trip. Blake was suspended for four days. Trip got detention for three, but he only went once.

I push Blake’s bangs back and I can see it, a faint pink line across his forehead—my fault—the scar he got trying to help me. I let him down then, too, let him take the blame for something that Trip did.

Sleeping like this, he looks so vulnerable.

“Stay away from him, Allie. Did you see how easy it was for me to hurt him? Next time I’ll smash his head in.”

I press my hand against my right eye and answer the voice.

“You can’t hurt me anymore. You can’t hurt him.”

I wish I could believe it.

Chapter
30

“What the hell?” Dad says when he walks through the door and sees Blake sleeping with his head in my lap. “Is this why you wanted to leave the party?”

I slide out from under Blake carefully, so he doesn’t wake up. “Shhh,” I say when I reach the door. I explain what happened briefly and with as few details as possible.

“How could any mother do that?” Mom says.

I try to hush her up, but Blake’s eyes flutter and he sits up. His hair is mashed on one side and standing straight up on the other. He blinks a couple of times like he’s not sure where he is.

Dad walks over and sits on the couch beside him. “Where did you leave your car, son?”

Blake clears his throat and looks around for a minute like he’s still disoriented. “Just before Taholah, underneath that big casino billboard.”

Mom and I look at each other. That means Blake walked over ten miles in the storm.

“Why didn’t you call someone?” Dad says.

“My phone’s dead.” Blake brushes his hand through his hair like he’s embarrassed.

Dad goes into mechanic mode. “What kind of noise was your car making? What happened just before it quit? How old is the battery?”

Blake struggles to answer Dad’s questions. I think of my conversation with Detective Weeks. It makes me feel better that he seems to know less about cars than I do.

Finally Dad lets it go. “You can stay here tonight. We’ll see if we can figure out what’s wrong with your car tomorrow.” He stands up. “I think we all need to go to bed, including you, Allie.”

.........

After Mom and Dad go to bed, I sneak into Andrew’s room. “We need to talk.” I try to look stern. He goes for innocence, but his computer is on his lap and I’m sure he’s chatting with Caitlyn. “Why didn’t you tell me she was going to be there?”

“You were … you’ve been …,” he tries.

“Busy? Preoccupied?” I reach for his laptop, but he holds it away from me, so I ruffle his hair instead. “Never too busy for you, little bro.” I sit on the bed. “So, you and Caitlyn?”

He blushes, ducks his head, and types, “So, you and Blake?”

I shake my head. “We’re just friends.”

Andrew raises his eyebrows. “You don’t have to be just friends.”

“I do.” I trace the edges of his quilt. “It’s complicated.”

He shakes his head. “You worry too much about what people think. Blake needs you. You need him. You should be together.”

I shake my head. “It’s not that easy.”

“Allie, Andrew, bed!” Dad’s voice booms through the wall.

“I’d better go.” I stand up, grateful to have a reason to stop talking about this. “We’ll talk tomorrow, and I’m expecting details.”

I’m almost to the door when Andrew says, “Allie.” I turn around. “You don’t owe him anything.”

Outside Andrew’s room I lean against the wall and close my eyes.

“I can’t go, I … Dad’ll be home tonight. I need to stay here
.”

“
You owe me, Allie, for flaking on Christmas.” He’s in my face, his body trapping me against the wall.

“She doesn’t owe you anything.” Andrew’s voice from the doorway to his room surprises me. I didn’t know he was home.

Trip turns around. “What did you say, spaz?” He takes a step toward Andrew.

Andrew stands his ground, but his hand is shaking. “She … doesn’t … owe you—”

“Forget it, okay? I’ll come.” I put my hand on Trip’s shoulder, pulling him away from my brother. Trip clenches and unclenches his fists. Next to him, Andrew looks like a rag doll.

“Allie … don’t. You don’t have to—” Andrew’s eyes plead with me.

“You stay out of this!” Trip yells.

I try to ignore the look Andrew gives me. I wrap my arm around Trip’s waist. “Let’s go.”

On the way back to my room I take a detour and watch Blake sleeping. He’s lying on his stomach with his arms stretched out under his head. His breath is deep and even. My heart bubbles into my throat just watching him.

I wonder how long until I’m allowed to be happy again.

Chapter
31

When we go back to school after winter break, things have changed between me and Blake. We’re still just friends, but the barrier between us has disappeared. It might have started melting before, but now it’s completely gone. Other people treat him differently, too. He takes charge in the dance committee meetings and everyone listens. There’s a group of freshman girls, with Kasey at the head, that makes a point of talking to him after every meeting and every time they see him in the halls. I watch him laugh and joke with them and wonder if I missed my chance again.

I get another note in my locker.

You’ll always be mine.

I try to shrug it off and not let it bother me—Hannah’s pitiful attempt to get to me. But it feels too much like the truth.

.........

I’m not as alone as I was before. I spend every lunch with Blake and Andrew, working on dance committee stuff. Because of the committee, I find myself working with and talking to people who would never have talked to me before: major-attitude Marshall Yates, always perky Kasey, and even consistently oblivious Angie.

The only one I don’t talk to is Randall. I can’t look at him without remembering that he saw Trip hit me, and he didn’t do anything to stop him. With Blake he’s actually friendly, but he still won’t look me in the eye.

A couple of weeks before the dance I end up with Angie at the beach, filling up bags with sand to act as weights for Blake’s sail paintings. It’s weird to be alone with her. Technically we have hung out, but only in the our-boyfriends-are-friends sort of way. I always thought she was an airhead, and when I was with Trip, I didn’t really talk to anyone.

Dating Trip wasn’t quite the social in at Pacific Cliffs that I thought it would be. He may have been the most popular guy at school, but he was good at keeping me isolated. The girls were loyal to Hannah because they had known her since forever, and no guy dared say a word to me with Trip around.

At first I thought it was cool: I was the center of his world and he was the center of mine, and I was flattered by his jealousy. But being the center of Trip’s world was exhausting. I never knew what kind of mood he would be in or what would set him off. Things would be great for weeks and then I’d do something wrong and he’d lose it. I could never predict what it would be.

“Ugh! The guys should totally be doing this.” Angie misses the bag and fills her shoe with sand for about the fourth time. She takes it off and shakes it. “This was their idea. ‘Sand, ladies, it’s free. What better way to anchor the sails?’” She puts her shoe back on. Her imitation of Blake makes me laugh, and then I feel guilty for it.

“You know guys.” I tie up another bag and add it to our pile. “They’re all about the building part—power tools, sharp objects—there has to be danger involved. Women always end up with the dirty work—dishes, laundry.”