Breakable Read online

  I pulled the browning fruit from my bag and peeled it slowly, tuning in to as many conversations as I could, listening for my name.

  “…should have seen it man, it was a thing of beauty.”

  “…and then she said – you won’t believe this! – she said I was the one who needed to go on a diet!”

  “…McPherson is going to kill me. He’s already given me an extension once…”

  “…it’s like she’s practicing.”

  I froze, halfway through taking a bite of the banana. That was Karyn’s voice. Her comment got a chuckle from Finn. “Yeah, or advertising.”

  I looked at them then, found Finn’s flinty gaze.

  I bit off the banana, chewed quickly. Finn pretended to wince and grab his crotch. “Oh, bad idea, C. No-one wants your teeth involved.”

  Several chuckles rose from those seated nearby.

  “Whatever, Finn.” I knew it was lame, but I couldn’t risk starting something with him. Not the minute I showed up. If I was going to be around these people more, I had to give them a chance to ignore me.

  Finn looked like he was about to say something else, but just then, Mark walked up and dropped into the seat next to Karyn. He threw his arm over the back of the couch, behind her shoulders, and hiked one foot up, resting his ankle on the opposite knee. A position which allowed him to rest the bent knee against Karyn’s thigh. Of course, she wiggled closer so his knee lay practically in her lap.

  I wanted to throw up.

  Mark spoke quietly, Karyn laughed and flirted. Finn sat back, watching them, interjecting occasionally in their conversation. Making the other two laugh.

  The three of them made a cozy little picture. If I hadn’t seen Finn and Karyn in the hallway, I would never have guessed. They were better than I thought at hiding their relationship.

  Crap.

  “Hello? Stace?” Dex snapped his fingers in front of my face.

  I blinked and turned. Belinda must have found someone else to flirt with. She was turned away from him, talking to someone on her other side.

  “So do I make it into your daydreams anymore?” He grinned and that eyebrow rose again.

  I rolled my eyes. “Only as the villain.”

  His grin faded. “I deserved that, I guess.”

  I sighed and gave him a flat look. “Look, I’m sorry about this morning. I know I was harsh. I just–”

  “Don’t,” he said, his voice almost sharp. “You were right. I shouldn’t have acted like we could just ignore everything that happened.”

  I blinked. There it was again. Another apology. From Dex. And he met my eyes. Didn’t shy away. Didn’t downplay what he was saying.

  “Wow,” I said, giving him a lopsided grin. “You really have changed.”

  He grimaced. “I’m trying to.”

  We settled into a conversation then that was, if not easy, at least not awkward. I asked him some questions about rehab. He answered. He asked me about school. I pretended it wasn’t as bad as it had been.

  I talked enough that it took a long time to finish the banana. And I got to ignore the whispers and chuckles that punctuated the room.

  It wasn’t until Belinda tapped Dex on the shoulder, interrupting, that I had a chance to glance at the clock and realize we’d already been there fifteen minutes. Unscathed.

  Unbelievable.

  “…coming to the party on Friday, right? It’s at Finn’s house.” Belinda had rested her elbows on the arm of the couch, which meant they were pressed up against Dex’s arm.

  “Uh, sure.”

  “Wait, Finn’s house?” I interrupted without thinking. “I thought it was at Lisa’s?”

  Belinda gave me a haughty look. “Change of plans,” she said shortly, and turned back to Dex.

  My nerves spiraled. Mark wanted me to go to that party. But it was at Finn’s. No way Finn would want me there. Yet… if I could get in, it might be my chance to get the letter back. Finn was notorious for throwing big, noisy parties, getting really drunk and passing out with a girl in his bed. Surely somewhere in that process I could search his room?

  Dex glanced at me and winked. “Stacy’s invited too, right?” He turned back to Belinda with an innocent smile.

  Belinda looked at me, then looked at him, then forced a brittle smile.

  “Sure!” she said, over-brightly.

  “Great,” he said and turned to me.

  “So, I was thinking–” Belinda started.

  But Dex locked eyes with me and his grin warmed. “Do you wanna go to the party with me Friday, Stace?”

  I couldn’t help smiling at the incredulous expression on Belinda’s face.

  “Sure!” I said, mimicking her.

  “Great!” Dex said again. “So I was thinking–”

  Belinda jerked to her feet and stomped across the room. Dex and I both watched her go, then burst into laughter when she threw open the door and stormed out.

  Several nearby conversations quieted around us. I hushed Dex, but couldn’t get rid of the giggles completely.

  When the voices around us rose again, I chuckled and gave him a wink. “Nice.”

  “Thank you.” He spread his arms and pretended to take a bow.

  “She’s going to hate you for that, you know.”

  Dex shrugged. “I doubt it.” He chewed his lip. Then looked right at me. “She might hate you though.”

  I felt my smile falter and slide away. “Yeah, probably.”

  “Don’t worry,” he said. “I’m a novelty. It will wear off soon. Then she’ll hate me again too.”

  I doubted that, but I didn’t want to talk about it here.

  An awkward silence rose between us suddenly. I didn’t know what to say.

  “I was serious, you know,” Dex said a moment later, his arm on the back of the couch again.

  “About what?”

  “About Friday. I’ll take you to the party if you want to come.”

  I froze.

  Dex leaned his temple on the hand furthest from me. His eyes never left my face.

  “Um… don’t you think… I mean, when she invited you–”

  “She was serious when she invited me. And I’m inviting you. If you want to come?”

  I looked away, chewing on my lip. I knew what Older Me would think. But she didn’t know about the letter. And if I was going to do this, going with Dex would be even better than showing up with Mark. Mark would pay attention if I disappeared for twenty minutes.

  “That would be great,” I said, before I could chicken out.

  “Cool,” Dex said.

  I just nodded. I’d just noticed Finn had left. Which meant Mark and Karyn were alone on the other couch. They stared at each other, speaking too low to be heard. Her hand was on his knee. He had the fingers of one hand running through a little piece of her hair. I had to physically wrench my gaze away from them.

  “You okay, Stace?” Dex’s frown had returned. “You look a little pale.”

  “Yes. Yes, I’m fine.”

  No. No, I’m not.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The rest of the week passed…quietly. I’m sure things happened. I’m sure people spoke to me. But I walked through it feeling like I watched it all through a telescope. Voices were distant. Images blurred at the edges. Even the thumps and sneers felt like they came from the other side of a wall.

  A sense of dread so hard and heavy it had weight to bear me to the ground, had descended the minute I saw the letter in Finn’s hand. I was a window, fragile glass, and Finn stood outside, hefting a rock. Smiling.

  All I could do was wait for Friday.

  I would go to the party. I would pretend to be making friends. And I would find the letter. Burn it. Remove the weapon from his hand.

  Then I could tell Mark the truth safely.

  Safer, anyway.

  “This is a terrible idea, Stacy. I can’t believe you’re actually going to go through with it!”

  Older Me stood in the mirror, arms crossed
under her ample boobs, gaping at me like I was insane. Which, given the way I’d walked through this week in a cloud, was more than possible I supposed.

  Maybe she really was a figment of my imagination. Oh, dear Lord, maybe I was headed for the nuthouse after all.

  “Stacy.” She snapped her fingers in front of my face. “What is going on with you?”

  What was going on was that I was sick of the conversation. She’d been relentless in trying to talk me out of going to this party. I didn’t have energy for the conversation anymore. Especially with Mom there.

  There was a make-up brush in my hand. I blinked, realizing I’d been standing there doing nothing but stare at Older Me. I hurriedly returned to dabbing the brush across my cheekbone.

  “No, no, no, Stacy.” Mom growled from behind me. She reached over my shoulder and took the brush. “You’re going to make yourself look like a clown, for goodness sake.” She gritted her teeth and leaned forward, the hand with the brush hovering near my ear. “Now, watch: You don’t poke at yourself with it, you shake to remove the excess–” and here she flicked the brush. Light from the window behind her lit on the tiny motes of blush drifting towards the carpet. “–then you draw it lightly across your skin just once or twice. It shouldn’t even be noticeable.”

  I met Mom’s eyes in the reflection, ignoring the increasingly agitated looks Older Me was giving from over my other shoulder. “If it isn’t noticeable, what’s the point?”

  Mom dropped her face into her free hand and muttered something obscene. “Do you remember nothing I taught you when you were thirteen?”

  Answer: No. Not really.

  When I was thirteen, Mom had decided the arrival of my period heralded my “blossoming” as a woman. For a couple weeks she’d dragged me into her room almost every night to show me make up and – horrors – to give me lessons in flirting. I’d very nearly died of pure mortification.

  You’re a woman now, Stacy. You need to learn to act like one. Men will always be physically stronger. But if you understand how to emphasize your assets, you’ll have some power over them. Girls will want to be you. Guys will want to be with you.

  It was the most ridiculous pile of crap I’d ever heard. I’d done everything possible to erase it from my memory.

  Those were the days I finally realized my mother was an idiot.

  “I…uh…I mean, it’s been a while,” I said.

  “Well,” she said through her teeth, “the idea is that the makeup isn’t consciously noticeable. No one should be looking at stripes of red across a girl’s cheekbones. They should just look at her and think about how…pretty she is.” Mom’s eyes dropped to my waist and she faltered. Turned to her little bag of miracles to get something else to paint me with. I waited…but the natural compliment wasn’t forthcoming.

  “Right,” I managed, finally.

  Older Me groaned. “Ignore her,” she muttered.

  I wished I could. I’d regretted asking Mom to help me get ready for the party almost as soon as she clapped her hands and ran for her bag of tricks.

  Now, while I knew I probably looked better than I ever had – my face was smooth and soft, gently shadowed. And my hair fell in soft waves below my shoulders due to some trick Mom knew with the tongs – I felt worse than ever.

  “Don’t worry, Stacy. It’s all relative. No one’s used to seeing you like this, so they’ll think you look great.”

  The pure cruelty of the back-handed compliment left me speechless.

  Older Me shook her head. “This was a bad idea to begin with. She’s making it worse. You don’t have to do this, Stacy. I mean it. Stay away from this party.”

  For the first time, I heard a note of panic in her voice. I met her gaze, trying not to be obvious about my questions, while Mom prattled on about how to walk into a room like you owned it. Strange, I’d always thought she was born walking around as if her farts were gold-plated. I hadn’t realized she’d cultivated the talent.

  Older Me met my eyes, biting her bottom lip. If Mom hadn’t been there, I would have asked Older Me again why she was so frantic – what she knew. Her insistence made me nervous. My frustration was through the roof that she wouldn’t just tell me what she thought was going to happen. What happened to her. But Mom was there, so…

  “…such a pity. You’d be so pretty if you just lost a little weight.” Mom sighed dramatically and dug through her bag again. I imagined clocking her over the head with the perfume bottle she’d left at my feet.

  “Oh! I do still have the glitter! That would look great on your arms–”

  “Glitter?!” Older Me and I cried simultaneously.

  Mom’s face snapped up, her eyebrows high. “Well, not glitter, but shimmer–”

  “No! No, that’s it. I’m done.” I put my hands up to wave off whatever it was she was pulling out of her bag. “This is fine. This is all I need, Mom. Thank you,” I finished, working hard not to let the sarcasm into my tone.

  “Stacy, there’s still–”

  “No, Mom. I’m done. I’m not putting on glitter, or anything else now. So just…just leave so I can finish getting ready please.”

  Mom stared at me for a long moment, then she nodded. “If that’s the way you want it.”

  “Yes, it is. Now please–”

  “Then there’s only one more thing I need to give you,” she said quietly, and in a tone I’d never heard before. It was stilted. Almost wistful. And she didn’t meet my eyes as her hand lifted out of the bag, clutching a small, shiny packet.

  I frowned, uncertain, until she extended her hand and I realized the shiny pack pinched between her fingers was thin, and square.

  “A condom, Mom?! Really?!” I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “You can’t be–”

  “I’m very serious,” she said, and gone was the flighty, melodramatic tone she’d been using all night, as if we were in a movie or something.

  Behind me, Older Me made a strange noise. But I couldn’t turn away from Mom. I gaped.

  “Stacy, I know this is your first party…and you probably don’t really know what to expect. I wish we’d had time to sort of…grow you into this. But the fact is, your school friends are getting up to all kinds of things and they have been for years. This…Dan, boy–”

  “Dex,” I corrected out of reflex.

  “Dex,” she repeated, still not meeting my eyes. “He may have…expectations. And I don’t want you going into that kind of thing unprepared.”

  Oh. My. G–

  “Take it,” Older Me hissed. “Just take it and nod and pretend.”

  “I’m not taking that!” I snapped at both of them. “I’m not having sex with Dex!” The idiocy of the rhyme tickled something in me that was horrified by this entire conversation. I swallowed the laugh that rose. It hurt going down.

  “You might not be planning to…” Mom said carefully.

  “I’m not planning to because I’m not going to.”

  “We all think that when we’re standing in the light of day. But when you’re with a boy and he’s–”

  “You’re my mother!” I shrieked. “You’re supposed to be telling me to wait for love and…and not to undervalue myself. And to make sure I’m respected! Or something!”

  Mom twitched. Then finally met my eyes. Her face was suddenly pale. Drawn. She looked like she was about to throw up. “Those are all great ideas, Stacy. But the reality for a lot of girls is that that isn’t an option. If you want to keep a guy’s interest–”

  “You’re seriously telling me to use sex to keep a guy interested in me?!”

  Her lips thinned. “I’m telling you I would understand if you did.”

  “You’re terrible! You are absolutely the worst mother!”

  Mom’s head snapped back as if I’d slapped her. But the irritation and anger I’d felt all night was curling into rage. I was horrified. I couldn’t believe my own mother–

  Older Me’s voice broke through. “Don’t make her–”

 
“You’re a–”

  “Don’t you dare,” Mom hissed. She leaned in, waving the condom in my face. “I’m trying to help you. You’ve needed it for years. I don’t know what possessed that boy to invite you tonight, but he did. And I’m telling you, this is your chance for something like a normal high school experience. I’m helping you. You ungrateful little–”

  “So I should take advice from you?” I laughed, but even to my ears it sounded forced and brittle. “You can walk around like you own the place all you want, Mother, but you’re still a flowershop owner whose husband left her for a younger woman, and who hasn’t been on a date in two years. But maybe I’ve got it all wrong–”

  Older Me swore.

  “–maybe you don’t bother with the dating part? Maybe you just jump into bed–”

  I didn’t even see her hand move, just felt the ringing slap on my cheek, saw a crack of lightening across my vision.

  When I’d taken a breath, we stood toe-to-toe in front of the mirror. Her breath sucked in and out as if she’d been running. Mine was locked inside. Until it all came out in a rush on the words, “Better do the other side too. Otherwise my blush will be uneven.”

  I saw it coming this time, saw her hand fly. I tried to duck, but she was too quick.

  Now both my cheeks stung. Heat rose in them and I was sure there would be hand prints.

  “Are you finished?” Mom held my gaze, her jaw hard, hands clenched to fists at her sides now.

  I waited. Her chest rose and fell too fast. Mine too slowly.

  Why was she like this? Why couldn’t she be someone who complimented me even when I didn’t deserve it? Weren’t mothers supposed to be biased towards their own children?

  If she’d just say something nice. Or something…hopeful, I’d apologize. Just to be able to tell myself she saw something good in me. Even though every word I’d said was true.

  But she just stared, looking like she wanted to bite me.

  “Most of the girls in your class would kill to have a mother like me,” she muttered.

  “Too bad I’m not one of them.”

  Her eyes widened and her knuckles turned white. For a second, the seething fury on her face made my courage falter. She’d already slapped me twice. I wasn’t sure I could stand up to whatever came next.