Breakable Read online

  “I’m not lying to you.”

  “I don’t want to accuse you of that…yet. But it’s clear you’re very aware of how others think of you. You modify your word choices, downplay feelings, sugar-coat events. I understand that’s because from a young age you grew accustomed to being ridiculed simply for being yourself. But that’s why I’m so glad I saw the paintings. They tell me big parts of the story.”

  Gulp. “Like what?”

  Behind his glasses, Doc’s eyes lose their economical glaze.

  “They tell me you were hurt by almost every person you depicted. Deeply. They tell me each wound was unique, but all left you bleeding.” I flinch, but he waves a hand. “My apologies, bad choice of word. I meant it figuratively.” He crosses his legs again. His eyes won’t let me go. “Stacy, your paintings tell me your story is real and regardless of how others may view it, that your pain – even before the incident – was extensive.”

  Oh crap oh crap oh crap oh crap. My throat aches. My eyes well up. I’m swallowing a lump that keeps bobbing back to the surface.

  I can’t cry. I can’t! If I lose it, he’ll think I’m not ready.

  I close my eyes to break his gaze. I can’t respond to what he’s said. I have to move on. Have to change to the subject. I let my head rest on the back of my seat and breathe deeply.

  “It wasn’t all bad,” I manage.

  “Stacy–”

  “Just give me a minute, will you?”

  I have to get a grip. I can’t let him side-swipe me again.

  Mrs. Callaghan called Mom and got her permission for me to stay in the art room after school and come on Sundays too.

  I didn’t tell Mark. He noticed the hours I was putting in at school during breaks, of course. He tried asking me to the rec room once, but I could tell he was reluctant, and frankly, I thought it best to let things settle down. So I resolutely said no and hid in the art room. Karyn was always outside after class, so there was no chance to talk about it. By Saturday I was braced for him to ask what I was doing with all those hours, knowing I’d blurt it out and then he’d want to look. But I didn’t want to show him. Except I did.

  Part of me was afraid if he looked at the pictures he’d see the truth. And part of me wanted him to.

  But he didn’t ask.

  I used the Saturday hours when he was there for planning sketches, working on the drawings of him, even dabbling in the self-portrait since it was a requirement. But I kept my head down so much we barely spoke.

  Then on Sundays and after school I had the womb of silence all to myself and I got lost. I spent so many hours mixing colors, scraping crayon and smudging pencil, my eyes fixed in the short distance. When I’d look up from the paper, my vision blurred.

  For those hours I lived in a world where the heavy load didn’t press in like a vice, wasn’t cracking my surface. Instead the pain that usually stuck to my ribs and weighed me down was coming loose, breaking up, flowing out through my fingers and onto the canvas.

  Mrs. C. had been right. I was telling a story about me. And telling it was gluing my cracks back together.

  The moments when I had to focus on something else – the hours in school that weren’t art, those evening hours when Mom was home – were either a hazy fuzz of exhaustion, or a frustrating, back-breaking irritation.

  And then there was Dex.

  We had sixth period together and he sat with me. But there was no mention of the party. He only showed up at the art room one time, on a Saturday, and except for that lunch, he hadn’t kissed me. Not that he had a lot of chance. At school our conversations were rare, superficial, and his eyes often strayed away from mine too quickly. There were a couple times he tried to say we should eat lunch together. But he was going to the rec room. When I’d invite him to the art room, try to talk about the work I was doing, share just a little piece of my story with him, his face would go blank and he’d just shrug. Eventually he stopped asking.

  At least spending every break in the art room – or in the library doing homework – meant I didn’t have to face how alone I’d become. I rarely saw Mark except on Saturdays, and as the deadline drew closer, we were both working like fiends.

  Mom was never home, and when she was, I had the feeling she was waiting for something from me. What that might be, I had no idea.

  So everything I had went into my art. I didn’t have anyone. Except Older Me.

  Older Me… Yikes.

  For the first time we were pulling away from each other. She showed up less and less in the mirror. There had always been times she wasn’t able to come when I called, but now those times were more often than not.

  Every time I mentioned Dex or Mark, she turned cold and silent.

  When she did talk, I learned she was glad Dex and I weren’t dating, excited about the art – or so she said. She hadn’t asked to see any of it. Otherwise, she was vacant. Barely there. Always looking over her shoulder – when she showed up at all.

  A few weeks after my new portfolio idea, I crossed the quad at the beginning of lunch, hurrying to the art room to get forty minutes in before the bell. Just before I opened a door into the building I caught sight of Dex walking with Belinda, leaning in her ear. She smiled, smug, at her own feet. My heart sank. He hadn’t called in weeks. And he hadn’t tried to kiss me since a few days after the party.

  As he and Belinda passed, she gave him a cloying look. Neither of them noticed me.

  I swallowed. It was time to accept that if Dex and I had had anything, it was over.

  He’d officially been accepted in Mark’s circle – though Mark never talked about him unless I brought him up.

  It was time to wait for him to stop sitting with me in sixth. To accept that he was gone.

  Gone.

  The word always conjured thoughts of Finn, and the letter, and Finn and Karyn. And Mark.

  I’d been tempted many times to just blurt it out. Tell Mark what I’d seen and ask him to follow them. To figure it out for himself.

  But it had been so long… Why would he believe me now?

  Moments like these I always remembered that distant conversation with Finn and Karyn, when I’d caught them. Their devilish certainty no-one would believe me if I accused Finn of cheating. Again.

  The whole situation made me sick. So I pretended I didn’t care. Didn’t even tell Older Me about it.

  Not that I had a lot of chance.

  Then, a couple weeks before the art deadline, the posters advertising junior / senior prom appeared. I listened to girls in my class talk about how their dates asked them – or who they hoped would ask them.

  When anyone talked to me about it – eyes sharp with glee because they knew no one would ask me – I told them I didn’t have time and hadn’t even thought about it. Which was so not true. I’d dreamed about prom since I was twelve.

  Oh well, maybe next year, right? I didn’t want to think about it. It was easier to distract myself with art.

  That Wednesday afternoon I made the first attempt at Dex. Watercolor. I painted him in fluid lines, blue skinned and bright eyed. He ended up looking like an alien life form. That one got pasted into the workbook.

  I pulled out the original sketch of Dex and saw again how shallow it was. It showed nothing of him – none of his personality. None of my feelings for him. Then again, what were my feelings for him?

  Attraction? Fear? Hope? Pain?

  I frowned at the paper. There was no point. I couldn’t do this right now. And besides, I was supposed to be working on my self-portrait.

  Not that there was any comfort in that.

  With a sigh, I looked up and registered the empty art room for the first time. How many hours had I been here recently?

  I’d been so lost in the art, so busy putting everything onto paper and fabric, I’d spent myself. I was hollowed out. There was nothing left. Now I was supposed to come up with some mind-blowing self-portrait?

  With a groan of resignation I dragged myself across the room to r
ummage through the storage space until I came up with a large table mirror – rectangle, on a rotating frame so the angle could be adjusted. I placed it on the table in front of me and half-heartedly sketched myself.

  One of the advantages of having Older Me around all these years was it gave me something else to look at in a mirror. But now, with silence around me, and no one else in the reflection, time on my hands, and nervous tension fuelling the need to do something, I put the mirror in front of me, just to the right, and stared at myself.

  My neck wasn’t long enough for my round face. All those freckles on my cheeks and nose made my skin seem blotchy. But my eyelashes were long and curled on their own. My hazel eyes were light enough to get attention.

  Everything else about me was just… normal. My nose wasn’t too big or too long. My eyebrows arched below my forehead in never-be-natural brunette because I dyed them every few weeks. My hair hit my shoulders, but didn’t drop much below them. If it hadn’t been that copper color–

  The outside door clicked and thumped, like the locked had stopped someone opening it. Surprised, I looked past the mirror to find Dex, hands cupped at the windowpane.

  Dex was here?

  And then Older Me arrived in the mirror.

  “Hey, Stace,” she sighed. She looked tired. “Are you in the art–?”

  “Dex is here,” I whispered through unmoving lips. “I have to let him in.”

  I didn’t see her reaction because I pushed my chair back and walked to the door.

  Dex stepped back from the window when he saw me coming. When I got the door open he stood half-turned away from me, but smiling. His hands were shoved deep in his pockets, shoulders slightly hunched. He wore that leather jacket again, though the weather was warming up. His jeans slouched perfectly over his shoes.

  “Hey, Stace,” he said quietly, chin tipped down, but eyes on me.

  “Hi.” I couldn’t hide my surprise. We’d barely spoken outside class for weeks. Why was he here?

  “You busy?”

  I shrugged. The answer was yes. But he had to be here for a reason. School finished a couple hours ago. He must have left and come back.

  “It’s okay,” I said carefully. “I’m just… did you want to come in?”

  His hesitant grin widened. “Sure.”

  A surge of adrenaline hit my system – were the sketches of him still out? I whipped around, but no, the workbook was slumped closed, on the table.

  Shaking a little, I returned to the seat I’d taken at the top of the U shape. Older Me remained in the mirror. Her eyes widened when I sat down and she looked around, but Dex grabbed a chair across from me, out of her sight. I couldn’t very well move her without it seeming strange, so I just gave her a glance, then turned back to him.

  “What’s up?” I picked up the sketchpad and started doodling – swirls, spheres, crosses, stars, stupid stuff to keep my hands busy.

  Dex leaned on the tabletop with one arm and fiddled, rolling a couple of the pencils around. Now that I thought about it, he’d been talkative in class that afternoon too. I’d been too busy trying to do the assignment and the homework so I could forget about it over the weekend. I’d brushed him off.

  Was he mad?

  “So, uh, I’ve been calling all week. Where you been?”

  I frowned. Dex had been calling? Why hadn’t he come here if he wanted to find me?

  “Here,” I said uncertainly. “I’ve been working on my art portfolio. It’s due in two weeks.”

  He scanned the table, noting the total lack of anything interesting. “Man, I hope it’s worth it. Seems like a lot of trouble to go to for nothing.”

  Thanks for the vote of confidence. “Um, yeah.”

  I started shading a sphere, keeping the pencil strokes even and in the right curve to mold the shape on paper. I didn’t want to talk to Dex just then. My stomach growled, my head spun with questions. I wanted to talk to Older Me since apparently she was sticking around for once.

  But Dex wasn’t going anywhere. He picked up one of my pencils and twirled it between his fingers, not meeting my eyes. “So, uh, I’ve been trying to catch you all week because… um…”

  Spit it out.

  While I focused on the paper in front of me, Dex cleared his throat.

  “There’s been a bunch of stuff going on for the end of the year. The rally last week was fun. I didn’t see you there.”

  I shrugged, kept my eyes on the page in front of me.

  Dex shifted in his seat. “Will you be at the junior rally on Friday?”

  I shrugged again. “I don’t know. I’ve still got a lot of work to do.”

  Dex kind of scoffed and a rush of irritation made me drop the distracted act.

  “Are you laughing at me?”

  “No!” His eyebrows shot up and he finally met my eyes. “I’m just… just surprised. I didn’t realize you were so serious about all this. It seems a little extreme, don’t you think? I mean, are you even going to prom?”

  “Are you asking me?!” I blurted, then froze, mortified. Stupid!

  “I, uh… well, I thought maybe you and Mark…”

  I laughed for real, the thought was so ridiculous. “Um, no,” I coughed. “He’ll be going with Karyn.”

  The words tripped out before I could shovel them back in. They made it sound like the only reason I wasn’t going with Mark was because of her. “Not that that would make any difference,” I added hurriedly. But we both knew I sounded lame.

  I dropped the pad and pencil and leaned back in my chair. “Sorry, Dex, I’m just distracted. I haven’t had time to think about the dance. I’ve been so busy with all the stuff I have to get done. Are you going?”

  “Maybe.” He played with my pencils again. He sounded weird. Cold and scared at the same time. “I mean… do you want to go with me? Like we talked about?”

  I froze midstroke. Dex’s eyes crept up to meet mine.

  It was the first time a guy ever asked me to a dance. Did this mean…?

  I cleared my throat. “Um, sure…” I should probably have sounded more excited.

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Great!” Dex’s relaxed smile returned. He jumped up and started around the tables to join me. “So, I have a plan.”

  “Um, okay…”

  “The others are going for dinner at Stephans, but I can’t stand Italian food. Do you want to go to Chucks? You know, for old time’s sake?”

  He pulled out the chair next to mine and sat down, leaning forward on his arms and shifting it closer until we were knee to knee.

  The whole situation was so unexpected, his reaction – his interest! – caught me so off guard, I just stared.

  “Uh… sure?”

  He reached out, took my hand and pulled me closer. “Excellent.” Then he had me in his arms, kissing me, hands in my hair. It was so unexpected I pushed him back. But he seemed unfazed. He smiled and reached forward to push a lock of hair behind my ear, his finger trailing down my neck. “It’ll be awesome.”

  “Yeah.” I forced a smile back, but my heart thumped. His hand was still on my neck. It felt too close, so I took it in mine to bring it down. I was completely off balance. I’d barely spoken to Dex in three weeks, but he was acting like we were together. The eagerness in his eyes… All of the sudden it felt like I’d agreed to something a lot bigger than just a dance.

  I swallowed. Dex sat so close, my knees were between his. He leaned in, eyes twinkling. I couldn’t help being surprised and a little touched by his excitement.

  “Do you have time to find a dress? I’ve already got a car booked and Finn’s parents are letting him use their beach house.”

  “Whoa, whoa, wait – what are you talking about?”

  Dex’s lips slid up on one side and he leaned closer. “Finn’s parents have a house at Seaside. Huge. Right on the waterfront. The whole crowd is going. Don’t you want to?”

  His tone was gentle, probing, but the glint behind his eyes
made me feel he was one of them now.

  Could this be a trap?

  And the party was at Finn’s house. I couldn’t risk that.

  But everyone would be there. Drinking. Excited. It was a party after our junior prom. What if Karyn lost her head and took off with Finn? What if Mark got drunk and didn’t notice?

  What if this was my last chance?

  I nodded quickly, swallowing my nerves and leaning back just enough to get space. “Of course. Yeah… that sounds good. It’s just, I’m not sure about Mom–”

  “Don’t worry about it, Terese’s mom is a total pushover. Some of the other girls are telling their parents it’s a girl’s night out and Terese’s mom will back them up because Terese told her that.” He sniggered. “So everyone’s going to be there, even Karyn.”

  That name echoed in my skull. I couldn’t get past the feeling Dex was using her to get to me. But Dex’s face was open, excited. He wanted me to go with him. In front of the most popular people in our class. How long had I been waiting for a guy to come along who acted like he wanted me around? What was my problem?

  I pushed my mouth into a smile.

  Dex returned it in kind. “So you’ll come?”

  “Of course. If I can get Mom to say yes. Definitely.”

  I felt safer because I had an out. If it got too scary, I’d just tell Mom the truth. She’d never let me go away overnight with guys… would she?

  “Great.” Dex leaned in again. I braced for another kiss, but he stopped, his lips just short of brushing mine. “This’ll be perfect, Stellar. Promise. No moonshine this time.” I winced at his use of my nickname, but he kissed me again without noticing.

  “You aren’t serious about going to the after-party, are you?” Older Me demanded, though her voice was low. “You know he’s expecting you to sleep with him?!”

  “No. I don’t know that.” I shifted in my seat, trying to sketch while I talked to her. It was a good excuse not to meet her eye.

  She snorted. “Please. I saw your face when he talked about going overnight. You know as well as I do that he’s only–”