Broken (27 page)

A volley of “You bitch,” and “How dare you
?
” shoots from the trio and peppers me. But, right now, I’m beyond them hurting me anymore. I’ve given them that honor too many times.
I
nstead, I
give them a bright, wide smile when they walk away. Tiny must’ve heard
it all
. His normally happy demeanor is flat and stale as day old coffee. He doesn’t flirt, suggest, hint, just takes my order and delivers the drinks.

Bree’s on the bench and waiting for me. The pink of her jacket matches the pink in her cheeks and nose from the cold.
Few things can
warm her up quicker than what I’m carrying, both in the Mugz-n-Chugz cup, and in my heart. I drop on one knee, holding the cup up like Alex had offered the drinks at the dance, a holy chalice.

“Is that chai t
ea?”
She blinks
, her pink glitter eyeshadow winking light back at me
.

“Extra whipping cream and cinnamon,” I add.

“Gimme that.”
Chai sloshes in the paper cup when she grabs it
.
Steam curls through the hole, wraps her nose and she inhales
.
The sniff is followed by a long sip.
“Oh, yummy.” Then she lifts a perfectly penciled eyebrow. “What has you in a chai tea buying mood?”

“Oh, you know, plenty of sleep, Mom made me an awesome breakfast…”

Another sip. “And…?”

“And I may have a boyfriend.” I wish I could keep the smile off my face. It would be easier to joke around if I didn’t look like a total fool for Alex.
And it’s easier to be excited when I don’t think about Daniel.

“Yes!”
S
he thrusts a fist into the air and jumps up. Heads swivel our way, and a light goes on in Bree’s eyes.
The mischief kind of li
ght
I know is bringing a public embarrassment my way.
Her skirt flips up and shows way too much thigh before gravity yanks it back down when she
jumps up onto the Bree Bench.

“What are you doing?
” I flick a quick glance around the quad. “
Get down before someone thinks I’m worshipping you.”

“Honey, you already do,” she
teases
. Then she stands straight, cupping one hand by her mouth, and shouts, “Attention Shelley High
Ravens
! Alex Franks is off limits! My friend Emma—”

I yank the chai cup from her hand.

“What the hell?” She huffs, then jumps down to the walkway again. “If it’s official, then the whole school should know.”

“Maybe he wants to perpetuate
gossip
,” I suggest.
God knows
it’s
flying around.

“Whatever.”
Bree
snatches the cup and guzzles
her
tea. “That boy’s been into
you
since day one.”

“So you’ve said.”
Grabbing her
by the elbow
brings no complaint. She’s too busy sucking down the sugary sweet tea.
I
drag her toward the door. Before stepping inside, I chuck my coffee cup into the garbage.

“What are you love birds up to tonight?”

“Um…” Does she know about the accident? His injuries? It’s not my place to tell her about Alex’s weekly treatments. Heck, I’ve just learned about them myself.
“He’s fighting a relapse of wha
tever he had last week. His dad’
s keeping him home tonight.”

“Bummer.”

Tell me
about it.

The morning passes in a long slow drag of painful clarity. Days of skating by and day dreaming and worrying about Alex ha
ve
me way behind. Fighting hand cramps and broken pencil leads, I take notes, ask questions, fight to get caught up. The Ugly Room and my gym class are a welcome break
from the thinking marathon
. Nothing the harpy squad says can touch
me—they already tried
.
T
he haunting ec
hoes on the catwalk still scrape my nerves raw, but in minutes I’m past them.

I check my cell phone at lunch, hoping for a text from Alex. Nothing.
Does the booster and shot
make him too sick to text?
Does it kno
ck him out completely
?
Whatever the case is, I don’t hear from Alex the rest of the day. Somehow, being his girlfriend seems tainted, or hollow,
being at school without him.

“What’s up for you tonight?” Bree asks me at my locker. “Nice door, by the way, is that new?”

“Nothing,
” I say, stuffing my backpack one-handed. “A
nd yes.”

“Care to clarify that?”

“Nothing’s up tonight, and yes it is a new locker door. Alex ordered it for me.”

“Wow.” Bree drags out the ‘o,’ and I know something sassy is coming next. “Most guys just give their girlfriends their class
rings. Maybe a necklace. Yours gets you a new locker door. How romantic.”

“Actually, the note accompanying it was very
romantic
.” I hunt on my top shelf and can’t find it.
It’s not in the
clutter
in the main section, either.
“He had the new door installed Monday morning because he couldn’t be here to open the
old locker
for me.” I
struggle
into my backpack one-handed. “I thought it was very sweet.”

“It is when you say it like that.” Bree’s phone warbles some Top Forty tune in her purse. She pull
s
it out, flips it open and has a really short conversation. “Okay. That was Jason. We’re going to
DarkHouse
tomorrow night. You’re bringing Lover Boy.”

DarkHouse
. The busiest teen hot spot in the West Michigan area.
Also the place with the worst reputation.
Drug raids in the parking lot. A sta
bbing. One guy was mugged
. Another went missing.
I’d have to lie to my parents—there’s no way they’d let me go to the
scene
where one of the guys disappeared from last spring.

“Well thanks for informing me.” I roll my eyes, and check my phone again.
Still no text. “I’m not sure Alex
’ll be up to it.”

“He’ll just have to be.
He
look
ed great
on Saturday after being sick on Friday.”

“Okay, okay. You’re so
bossy
!”
Her curtain of hair swishes, and s
he stumbles a little when I nudge her from behind.

“What was that for?”
Bree
snaps
, brown eyes wide when she whips around
.

“
I don’t know…
You’re being so pushy I figured it was okay to push you too.”

She
shakes her head, mouths, “Good one,”
then flags down her mom’s car.

“
Wanna
spend the weekend at my house? Then you wouldn’t have to try sneaking out on Saturday…”

Bree knows my mother well. The lure of DarkHouse, with Alex, is huge.
No
t
just because most of Shelley High goes there. Because I want to be wrap
ped in his arms, buried in dark
n
e
ss and drenched in rhythm. DarkHouse
is square, cement, with blacked
-
out windows and horrid,
rancid
green neon signs outside. Inside it’s all black, floors, walls, chairs—everything—and lit with blacklight so anything light, white, or acid-washed glows.
And Bree’s hair. Something about the bleach she uses does it.

“What they don’t know w
on’t
hurt them…” she urges.

Sneaking, lying by omission, and drowning in Alex…

“Okay, fine. You win!”

“About time you just cave and let me have my way.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” I wink and wave to her mom when she pulls up to the curb. “I have to keep my arguing skills sharp.”

“It wouldn’t hurt you to just be agreeable every now and then.” She opens the
passenger side
door and sits. “See you tonight! Bring clothes for two days.”

I wave, then watch them pull away from the curb. Bree’s the best, but I can’t believe how easily she railroads me. Alex knows how to push my buttons at a distance, Bree knows how to push them and wring a tune from me. Yes
,
yes
,
yes, and suddenly I’m roped into going to the biggest nightclub in town with my new boyfriend.

Hopefully, he’s up to the challenge.

#

The factory setting ringtone
on my phone
wakes me in the middle of the night. I roll of
f
Bree’s trundle bed, wad
e
on hands and knees through a deluge of clothes and shoes and accessories
toward the outlet. My right hand aches, I’m so fuzzy from sleep it takes a moment for my brain to catch up and realize it hurts because it’s broken and I’m crawling on it.

I grab the phone, snap it open and whisper harshly, “Hello?”

The alarm clock above me reads 2:00 AM
. My foggy brain and dead-weight body agree.

“Hey!
”
Surprise kicks Alex’s voice up a notch.
His voice has the same affect on my
heart rate
.
“Um…
You caught me off guard
. I thought your phone would be off and I was going to leave you a voice mail for the morning.”

“Aw. That’s so sweet.”
Waking and hearing Alex’s voice… It is very sweet
now and would’ve been a wonderful surprise
.
Bree’s snores choke off and I sho
o
t a glance at her bed. She rolls over,
teddy bear in a stranglehold,
and mumbling in her sleep. “
I’m glad you called
.”

“You are?” I’m sure the scar is tugging his left eye from the smile I hear in his voice. “Me, too. I…missed seeing you today.”

“Technically it’s tomorrow now.”

His laughter is as warm and cozy as the quilts I was under. “You are picky and persistent. Okay, so I missed you yesterday.”

“Then let’s
not let that happen today
. Bree and Jason want us to go out with them tonight.”

“Where?”
A quizzical and mistrusting tone darkens his voice.

“DarkHouse.”

“
Really?” The mistrust plummets to dislike. “
I’m not fond of the nightclub scene,
Emma. Bad things happened there.” He
’s silent a moment
, and makes
a
decision
. “I’ll go. Someone has to be your bodyguard.
”

“
Mm. Guarding my body—I
like the sound of that. I’ll
text
you when I
know more
, okay?”

“
Definitely.”

“Sweet dreams, Alex.”

“They’re alway
s about you.” And he disconnects
the phone.

Alex has been the lead character in every dream I’ve had since I met him. Mine have all been nightmares. Just once I’d like to look at Alex and see him the way he sees me, a waking dream, the person who is and you never thought would be.

Shutting off the phone this time, I crawl back through the remnants of Bree’s Pick Emma’s Outfit marathon, and then climb under the blankets.
Looking down, I see the empty spot at the end of the bed where Renfield would be sleeping if I w
ere
at home.
Sure
,
he can be rotten—I still miss him
.

Despite Bree’s snores and the lump in the mattress from the support bar underneath,
I fall back to sleep. Dreamless. No graveyards, no dead boyfriends, and no white cats.

#

A line of people stretches at least a third of the way down the
city
block
. Faces turn toward the building, hands come up to shield profiles that might be seen in headlight glare. The reaction affects at least
half
of them
,
twitc
hing and turning
every time a car drives past. Which, being in the downtown district, is quite often. How many kids are here without their parent’s permission, dreading the sight of a familiar car? How many are waiting in line, saving a spot for their Significant Other?