Breakable Read online

  “Yes,” she said simply.

  “And?” I couldn’t believe she’d tease me like that.

  “And you need to forget about Mark, and Dex, and Finn and just get out of there. That place isn’t worth your time, Stacy. They’ll just gang up and hate on you and… Mark can only be so many places at once. Just… just leave. Please?”

  I shrugged. Then pushed aside some old make-up tubes and discovered a small safety-pin laying up against the side of the drawer. I used it to pin the front of my sweater closed. It was very low cut, and everyone could see my stomach. But I had more skin covered than half the girls downstairs.

  “Stacy, please! This is important!”

  “Calm down, I’m leaving. Soon.” What I would have given to be able to take her advice right away. Just leave. Go home. Forget about everyone. Just get away.

  But it was pointless thinking that way. This was my chance to get my hands on that letter. And if I could get that, then I could tell Mark the truth – find a way to do it so he believed me. Maybe we could even work together to trap them so he could see it for himself…

  Bracing for going back in the fray, I considered my sopping blouse, screwed up on the countertop. I couldn’t stomach the idea of walking around, carrying it. Instead, I wrung it out and dumped it in the laundry hamper against the wall. Maybe Finn’s mom would discover it and realize he’d had a party. Maybe he’d get in trouble. I could only hope.

  I turned for the door then, but my gaze snagged on Older Me. She stood awkwardly, with her hands at her sides, biting her lower lip.

  “Please, just go straight home,” she said. “Forget about everything else for tonight and just get home.”

  Everything else?

  The letter. I blinked. Did she know?

  Older Me’s eyes never left my face. But she didn’t say anything. And I couldn’t. So I just nodded turned for the door.

  “Call for me when you’re safe,” she said to my back.

  Chapter Seventeen

  There was no one in the hall. Music and voices drifted up the stairs, but so far everyone was too sober to have spread out. If I was lucky, I had a good half-hour before anyone started looking for privacy.

  And Finn’s room was just three doors down.

  With one last glance down the stairs to make sure no one was on their way up, I headed up the hall, counting doors. The third door was closed. But when I tried the knob, it turned. The door opened.

  Finn had obviously figured he’d be bringing someone up here. Apart from his school bag on the chair at his desk, the room was spotless. His massive bed had been made with crisp corners. He’d closed the curtains, but left a lamp on next to the bed. The lamp lit the entire room with a soft, warm glow. The intentions behind that made me shudder.

  I closed the door carefully, noiselessly, then darted across the room to his desk.

  I tried his bag first, just in case he’d been carrying my letter around. But the leather satchel held only a few pens, his tablet, and a couple books. No loose papers at all. So I started in on the drawers of his desk.

  Doing my best to leave everything as it was, I rifled through the long drawer at the top in the middle. It was full of trash, pens, broken pencils, and a few scribbled notes. The other top drawers didn’t offer anything of more interest.

  But the second drawer down on the right…

  As soon as I opened it, I knew that was my best shot. It was full of cards, notes, letters, pictures. Obviously the spot he threw everything girls gave him. And judging by the piles in here, there had been a lot of girls in his life.

  With shaking hands, I pulled out stacks of cards and notes, flipped through them, looking for any pieces of loose, lined paper.

  But it wasn’t until I’d removed most of the contents of the drawer, that I discovered the little box in the back.

  It was nothing important looking – an old, oversized match box, for the long kind of matches that you used for barbeques. It slid out from its cover easily and my heart thumped almost painfully.

  Right on the top, over a pile of notes, was my letter. It had been folded and creased since I last saw it. But there was no mistaking the name Mark written in my hand.

  I grabbed it out with a little cry and was about to shove the box back into its cover and get out of there, when the note that had lain beneath it caught my eye.

  It was a blue post-it. In pink pen in a loopy hand with a heart to dot the i, was written:

  next saturday at 4 at our spot. M has practice.

  don’t be late.

  Xoxo

  It had to be from Karyn. “M” had to be Mark. He had basketball practice on Saturdays after the art room. She had written this to make a date with Finn.

  Proof.

  With my heart beating a rapid tattoo, I grabbed the post-it and slid the box back into its cover and replaced it in the back of the drawer. Unwilling to let go of my letter, I scrambled to pick up the piles of envelopes and notes and pictures, returning them to the drawer, praying I’d gotten the order right.

  I was just reaching for the last little pile when I heard the click behind me and whirled.

  Finn stood inside the door, his upper lip pinched into a sneer. “I knew it!” he muttered, slamming the door behind him.

  My hands shook as I placed the last pile back in the drawer and pushed it closed. The letter and note were crunched up in my fist.

  “Just taking back what belongs to me,” I said and stood.

  Finn covered the space between us in three long strides, grabbing for the letter. I held it behind me and shoved him off with my free hand. “Back off, Finn!”

  “You little thief!

  “I’m the thief? You stole it from me!”

  He cursed. “You’re in my room, going through my stuff!” He grabbed me by both arms and threw me sideways. I landed heavily against the edge of the bed. I was still searching for my balance, trying to find my feet, when he was beside me. Both his long arms circled me, trying to get the letter. I struggled, but he just clamped his arms around mine until we were locked in this strange position, him on top of me and grasping at my hands, me with my upper body on the bed, my legs tangled and unable to get purchase on the floor.

  “Finn! Let me go!”

  Finn grunted and his hand closed on mine. I twisted onto my side, pulling the hand with the letter under me, even as he wrestled for it. I was trying to turn onto my stomach, but he was too strong. His steel arms made a prison for me.

  “You’re so predictable, C,” he said through gritted teeth.

  “Let me go!”

  “Not until you give me that letter.” He pressed his hips into me, pinning me even harder, so the seam on the edge of the mattress pinched into my side.

  “Finn, please.” He was starting to scare me. I couldn’t move more than a wiggle. Then one of his hands closed over mine. Over the letter.

  “No!” I cried and twisted so hard I saw stars.

  Finn grunted, but I ended up on my stomach, the hand with the letter pinned under me. I tried to push off the mattress, to push him away. But with him holding me down, I could only get my chest up.

  Our struggle became a gross parody, him behind me, pressed into my backside, me bucking beneath him, struggling to get free.

  “It’s never going to happen, C,” he hissed in my ear, shifting his weight just slightly, to free one of his hands. “I’m stronger than you. And faster. Not to mention prettier,” he snorted.

  “Let me go!”

  “Though, I don’t have those,” he said silkily.

  For a moment I was lost. Then I realized that my sweater was gaping. The pin stretched almost to breaking point by our struggles. The fabric within it had pulled until it did little more than stop my sweater falling off. The middle of my bra was clearly visible, and the tops my breasts rose out of the fabric.

  Finn’s finger traced a line from my collarbone, down my sternum, dipping into the middle of my bra.

  “Get your hands off me
, you pervert!” I screamed and bucked again, suddenly so aware of his greater strength, his hateful smile, how he would do anything to win. Or to torture me.

  “You know, your rack’s almost as big as Karyn’s. Too bad for you, Mark’s already got free access to her.”

  “From where I’m sitting, she isn’t exactly picky.” I glared at him, but instead of looking ashamed, he just tipped an eyebrow up.

  “You know, I liked you when we were twelve. You could have been normal. Like, with friends. What happened to you?”

  “Shut up, Finn. If being normal means cheating on my best friend, I’ll stick with what I’ve got.”

  Finn scowled and leaned into my face. “Cheating, lying, what’s the difference? Didn’t seem to bother you in eighth grade.” His breath was hot on my cheek, washing me in the tang of half-digested beer. “You think Mark would ever look at a fatty like you when he’s getting everything from the hottest girl in our class?”

  Mark and Karyn were sleeping together? No, no. Please, God, no.

  “I wrote it before I knew he was with Karyn.” I wished I didn’t sound so squeaky.

  Finn scoffed. “So? I can’t believe you thought he actually liked you. Mark feels sorry for you. He’s only nice to you because his parents told him it would be wrong to dump you when you don’t have any other friends. He laughs about you when you aren’t there. Did you know that?”

  “No. He doesn’t.” Tears pressed at the backs of my eyes. I swallowed and shook my head to push them away. “Finn–”

  “Give me the letter,” he snapped. His hand at my cleavage fisted and for a moment I was certain he was about to hit me.

  “N-no,” I said, but my voice was strangled. It was getting harder and harder to breathe with him pressing down on me like that. And the feeling of his fingers on my skin turned my stomach.

  The rest happened too fast.

  The door clicked, then thumped, as if someone had tried to open it and run into it when they couldn’t.

  “Hel–!” I tried to scream, but Finn’s mouth came down on mine to muffle it.

  I panicked and twisted, brought both my hands up to shove at his chest.

  And just like that, he grabbed the letter and pulled it from my grip. The note drifted to the carpet.

  “Yes!” He shoved off me and took two steps back, leaving me sprawled against his bed, sagging almost to the floor before I caught my own weight.

  I sucked in a huge breath, ready to scream again. But the door jiggled and a high voice rose behind it.

  “Finn? You in there, gor-geeoush?”

  It wasn’t Karyn. The voice sounded too normal. Must have been one of the girls hanging off him at the keg.

  Finn glanced at the door, but didn’t respond. Just ran a hand through his hair, which was sticking in five different directions, and waved the letter at me.

  “Better get moving, C. I’d hate to have to tell everyone you attacked me in my room. Again.”

  I pushed to stand and almost fell over. My entire body trembled. I locked my knees and grabbed at the bedside table for balance.

  “Give it back,” I said, but it came out on a breath, barely more than a whisper.

  “Not. Even. A chance,” he spit at me. “And since you’re so irritatingly everywhere, I’ll be making copies. So even if you get this back, it won’t matter. You say one word and everyone will still know what you are. What you want.” He waggled his eyebrows and my stomach punched into my throat.

  Swallowing bile, I forced myself to stand straight. Put my shoulders back. Ignore the feeling that I had just been violated on every level.

  “Give it back,” I repeated, a little stronger this time.

  Finn’s lips curled up into a smile. “Oh. Okay,” he said sarcastically. And he stared, waiting.

  And…oh, gawd…it all crashed down on me then. He was too much stronger. Too much bigger. I couldn’t get it back now. And now…now he knew I was trying to. I believed him about the copies. He would do it.

  Which meant I was screwed. Because there was no way he wasn’t going to use that.

  My eyes burned. My throat closed. A tiny sound escaped before I could swallow it.

  Finn’s eyes flashed and he took a step closer. “Did you need some help with your sweater?”

  “Don’t!” I gasped and lunged for the door.

  He stopped, laughing, as I fumbled with the knob, turned the lock, threw the door open and ran out, past a drunk looking girl who turned when I burst through the door and took two wobbly steps back in the direction of the room before I passed her.

  “Finn, whaddyer doing wish her?” rose up behind me as I ran for the stairs.

  But before I got there I heard voices and footsteps coming up.

  Panicking, realizing there was no way I could get through the house without making a scene, I whirled and raced across the hall, grabbed the first door I saw and threw myself into the room.

  I slammed the door shut behind me and leaned against it.

  The tears came then, hot and prickly, squeezing between my eyelashes and rolling down my cheeks.

  I felt dirty. Like I’d rolled in mud. My stomach spiraled with self-loathing. The memory of Finn’s hands on me, of his lips on mine…It made my skin crawl.

  I didn’t want to think about it. Didn’t want to remember it, or think about what it meant. I had to get myself looking normal. I had to get away from here. Go home. Screw Mark and his love life. Screw Karyn. And screw Finn.

  I took a breath and fumbled along the wall for a light switch.

  When I found one I turned back to the room, looking for something that might help me clean up. Then I gasped.

  It was a huge room, full of floral frills and thick wood furniture. To my left a couple doors opened off, one to shadowy depths, likely a closet. The other revealing white tiles and the glint of metal. A bathroom.

  I’d broken the golden rule of high school parties and entered the parent’s bedroom. But I’d be careful. I wouldn’t touch anything. I’d make sure there was no evidence I’d been here.

  I just needed a minute or two alone. And maybe some water…

  I stumbled across the floor, swallowing hard.

  Thankfully, Finn’s parents were fancy enough to have water cups in the bathroom. My fingers shook so bad it took three tries to get the top cup off the stack. But I turned on the faucet and filled it, took a long drink and told myself I wasn’t going to throw it back up.

  Then I took a deep breath and looked in the mirror.

  I was a mess. My hair was sticking out on one side, ruffled in a way that looked like I had bedhead. My mascara had run and I must have rubbed my eyes, because it was smeared across both my cheeks and as far as my temple on one side. My top had stretched horribly where it was pinned. It gaped open, a small tear on one side. It was hard to get my trembling fingers to work, but eventually I managed to unpin it, pull the two sides together, one over the other, and pin them through. Then I used water from the faucet to wash my cheeks and remove the smeared make up. There was nothing I could do about the fact that my lipstick was gone – probably rubbed on Finn’s comforter. I hoped his mother asked him how that had happened.

  Then I combed my hair with my fingers and pushed the front strands behind my ears.

  My eyes were still a little red, and I still looked…off. But at least I wasn’t a complete mess anymore. And I had to get away from this mirror before Older Me showed up.

  Crunching the cup into a ball, I threw it in the wastebasket and walked back into the room.

  I stood at the door for a minute, hand on the handle. I kept getting flashes of the altercation with Finn. It made me nauseous.

  Why had he touched me like that? Had that awful kiss been nothing more than a way to cover my mouth when his hands were busy?

  I wiped my mouth with both hands, grimacing.

  I had to get out of here. Older Me had been right. I shouldn’t have come. I’d only made things worse. Gawd, if she found out about the letter
on top of all this…

  Through the thick wood I could just make out the thump of music, and the rise and fall of laughter and voices. I knew I needed to get out there. To find Dex and ask him to take me home. Or, maybe Mark.

  But I couldn’t make my hand turn the handle. Couldn’t make my legs move.

  I was shaking all over, and every time I imagined walking through the crowd, it felt like they’d know.

  Then I remembered Finn standing there, smiling, my letter in his hand. His promise to make copies.

  Humiliation washed over me in waves.

  I stumbled backwards until I ran into something and dropped to sit.

  It was one of those little divans, placed at the end of the bed so a person could sit to remove shoes, or whatever.

  I couldn’t move. I stayed there, breathing, trying to forget. Trying not to think about what was coming. Trying not to break into little pieces because I knew no one else was going to bother to put them back together.

  Because it was coming. Eventually.

  Chapter Eighteen

  I take a deep breath and meet Doc’s eyes. He removes his glasses, takes a tiny cloth from his pocket to clean them as he speaks.

  “So…your incident…it wasn’t the first physical altercation with Finn?”

  “No.” I am surprised by how affected I am, recounting that story. “The night of the party was the first time I really felt…threatened, though.”

  Doc’s lips press together into a thin line. “Stacy, I know that the legal ramifications of your story have already been dealt with. But given the emotion still clearly attached to this, there is something that I think might be important to say at this point.”

  I wait, prepared to hear about how I should role-play confronting Finn, or write him a letter or something. I’ve been through this before.

  Doc clears his throat. “I want you to know that I believe what Mr. Patton did to you that night was nothing short of despicable. It was intimidating, violating, and horribly disrespectful.”

  “I know,” I sighed.

  “No, I’m not sure you do.”