Breakable Read online

  Finn kept crowing and giving high fives, even as I pushed the exit door open. As soon as I was out of sight, I ran. No more hallways for me. I was taking the long way around. Besides, the rain hid the tears on my cheeks.

  Word gets around quick. Several sanitary products landed on my desk, or in my lap during first period, accompanied by sniggers and hissed taunts. I ignored them.

  No point inviting further humiliation though. I hung around at the end of class, let everyone else leave first. I could be a couple minutes late to art without Mrs. Callaghan having fits. And besides, Mark was there. We hadn’t spoken since the argument Saturday.

  So the halls were almost empty when I rounded the corner into the creative wing, to be greeted by the sight of Mark and Karyn plastered up against the lockers, saying goodbye.

  I jerked to a stop, then ducked into a firehose alcove. With luck they’d be done in a few seconds. After the morning I’d had, I couldn’t quite face Karyn’s expression if she knew I’d seen them kissing.

  Mark murmured something, then his shoes squeaked on the floor. I gave Karyn another thirty seconds to leave too, then peeked around the corner to make sure the coast was clear.

  But Karyn was still at her locker, primping.

  Gag.

  If I stepped out, she’d know I’d been hiding. Nothing for it but to wait. She must have had a study period. Even with Mrs. C. I was facing detention if I didn’t get into art soon.

  Finally, a door slammed further down the hall. I sighed with relief and stepped out of the shadow of the alcove – then scrambled back in when I saw Finn sidling up to Karyn, that oily grin on his face.

  “Hey, beautiful. You got study?”

  “Yeah.” Her locker door banged shut. “Who let you out of your cage?”

  “Ouch. You wound me.”

  The smile in both their voices made me want to revisit my breakfast. I hadn’t even known they were friends.

  When their voices got lower and more flirtatious, I rolled my eyes. How long until I hit Mrs. C.’s limit? The art room was only half a hallway from Karyn’s locker.

  “…hear about what happened with C this morning?”

  “What did you do?” Karyn giggled. “Whatever it is, don’t tell Mark. He’s still talking about helping her.”

  Finn groaned.

  Their voices dropped lower, a gentle hum broken only by sporadic giggles from Karyn. After a couple minutes of this, my tension ratcheted up. Those two weren’t worth a detention. I had to get out of here, hope they weren’t watching where I came from.

  I pulled a book out of my bag and pretended to read it as I stepped around the corner. And stopped.

  “…can’t, he’s right down the hall!” Karyn hissed.

  Finn had Karyn pinned against the lockers. Her hand lay on his chest, his chin tipped down level with hers. She pushed him away. But she was smiling.

  They both became aware of me in the same moment.

  Karyn froze. Finn stood straight, ran a hand through his hair. They tried to pretend nothing happened. Then, at the same time, both their eyes slipped sideways and landed on me.

  A crackling warmth spread from my chest, flushing out to my fingers and toes. Too many feelings fought to the surface – anger at Karyn for cheating, pleasure that I’d caught Finn being the jerk he was, fear about what they might do to keep me silent.

  I met each of their gazes, working hard to keep my face blank. Then I smiled and kept walking. Neither of them moved.

  Finn’s rage had him almost vibrating as I passed. He hissed between gritted teeth, “Stupid b–”

  “Right now I’m pretty sure I’m the most intelligent person in this hallway,” I said.

  Finn made a weird noise and his hand snapped out to grab my elbow. He whirled me around to face him.

  My heart pounded against my ribs, but there was a strange calm that came with knowing I wasn’t in the wrong here. I met Finn’s blazing gaze and snapped at him, “Let. Me. Go.”

  He didn’t move. For the span of three breaths, we just locked eyes. I felt great. Sure. Solid. I didn’t care if Finn pummeled me senseless. When I regained consciousness, I was still going to tell Mark that his girlfriend was cheating on him with his second-best friend.

  But then corners of Finn’s lips tipped up. His eyes took on that malicious twinkle, and his fingers loosened on my arm. “Go ahead,” he whispered, giving me a little shove back towards the art room.

  “I will,” I said.

  Finn smirked. “And no one will believe you.”

  “We’ll see.”

  “And even if they would, I think maybe you wouldn’t tell them because if you do, I’d have to show Mark this.” Finn pulled something out of his back pocket and flashed it at me.

  A piece of white, lined paper, folded into a rectangle.

  The name Mark written on it.

  In my handwriting.

  My locker left unlocked when Finn made a scene. My wallet inside it. The note I’d written Mark before the dance, when I thought…

  The truth came home to me with a crunch.

  I gasped and grabbed for the paper. But Finn yanked it away easily. Then he held it over his head, feet above my reach.

  “Finn…please…” I sounded pitiful. But I couldn’t care less. If Mark ever saw that. If anyone else ever saw it…

  “Tsk, tsk, C. Sloppy leaving your precious sitting around where anyone could find it.”

  “You STOLE that you stinking a–”

  “Don’t!” he spat, his free hand snapping forward to grab my shirt. Karyn gasped. Unadulterated fury twisted Finn’s face and I stumbled back, suddenly sure he would pound me into the floor.

  He yanked me to a stop. We stared at each other then; me breathing hard, his face broken by a snarl.

  There was a strange kind of honesty in the moment.

  “Who else has seen it?” I asked quietly, all heat gone from my voice.

  “Just me,” Karyn said from behind me, her voice oozing every kind of delight.

  Finn’s eyes narrowed. “You and your ugly face already ruined my life once. I’m not letting you do it again,” he ground out. “You say one word to Mark, and he’ll find this in his locker. After copies go up all over school.”

  “But…but you could do that anyway.”

  His eyebrows waggled once. “I guess that’s a risk you’ll just have to take.”

  Karyn laughed. Finn and I locked eyes. It felt like he was a wall, sliding inexorably closer. Right now, I could see it coming. But soon it would push into me, press the breath out of my lungs, flatten me…

  He waved the paper at me once, then tucked it back into his pocket, eyes on me. “Just keep that in mind.” Then he was striding up the hallway. Every so often his laughter floated back to buffet my ears.

  I had to get that letter back. I had to.

  When Finn was gone, I wrenched my eyes from the spot where he’d disappeared and forced myself to look at Karyn.

  She leaned back against her locker, surveying me through narrowed eyes. “He’s right you know. Finn’s cheating sounds a little familiar, don’t you think?”

  I swallowed, unwilling to agree with her, but all too sure they were both absolutely right. I could tell Mark anyway, make him believe. But the thought of him reading that letter turned my stomach to stone.

  Karyn’s grin could have slid through my skin. She straightened from her locker and turned to go. I grabbed her arm and she whirled on me.

  “Why would you do this?” I asked. “Mark is perfect. And Finn’s so… Why would you choose Finn over him?” I said, then cursed myself because my voice was too soft to sound strong.

  “I’m not choosing Finn. Geez, you’re an idiot Stacy,” she snapped. Then, yanking out of my grip, she started walking backwards towards the door, smiling at me. “You’re right about Mark. He is perfect. And he’s mine, so you can forget your little fantasy about him suddenly falling for you. He thinks you’re crazy.”

  She turned then and
threw her parting shot over her shoulder just before she pushed through the door. “Finn is fun. I like having fun. If you weren’t such a loser, you’d understand. Instead, you’ll just have to suck it up. Because no one would believe you anyway.”

  Then she disappeared outside.

  I was left standing there, at the site of what should have been the turning point. The place where everyone – Mark! – should have learned the truth about who Finn and Karyn really were.

  So why was I the one left staring at the ground, wishing I’d done things differently?

  Chapter Ten

  Mrs. Callaghan made a very pointed look at the clock when I finally made it into the art room, but said nothing.

  Mark’s eyebrows slid up as I slumped into the seat next to him. Luckily I could avoid his questions because Mrs. C. was lecturing.

  “…young apprentices often spent years emulating their masters, trying to replicate the exact images made famous by their heroes and mentors. An attempt to teach themselves greatness through mimicry…”

  Images of Karyn and Finn plastered against each other danced in my head, taunting me. Poor Mark. When he found out she was cheating – and with Finn! – he’d feel like such a tool. Would he hate me for being the one to make him see the truth? Or would he be grateful?

  I glanced at Mark. He doodled absently on the cover of his sketchbook, his long fingers wrapped around the pencil, the tendons on the back of his hand standing proud, pulling taut when he moved it in short, confident swipes. Slowly, a stylized bird took shape under his hand.

  “…later, their best work often employed the techniques of the great artists, but applied them in totally new way, or thus far unexplored medium. Take Cezanne for instance…”

  I picked up a pencil and leaned across the desk so I could reach Mark’s sketchbook. He looked at me, but didn’t say anything as I made broad strokes on the space directly above his bird.

  Our hands swiped and cut across the paper in a duet that made my heart throb.

  Unable to resist, the round lines of what had I had intended to become a rugged hill behind the bird were quickly exaggerated, given ears, flattened against an angular skull, and wide, hateful eyes with dilated vertical pupils.

  Teeth and claws came next, jagged and bloodied.

  My demon cat pounced, caught in the split second before it drove his bird into the dirt and devoured it.

  I grinned and looked at Mark. He rolled his eyes, but his smile hinted at laughter.

  Suddenly, around us chairs screeched and voices rose. Everyone got to their feet, comparing notes and ideas.

  The assignment. Right. Probably should have been listening for that.

  “Okay, you two.” Mrs. C. appeared at the other side of my table. Her eyes caught on the drawing on Mark’s sketchbook and she shook her head. “Perhaps you should try to use your powers for good next time, Stacy,” she said in a resigned tone.

  I shrugged. “We were just–”

  Mrs. C. held up her hand to stall me. “I want you two working on your portfolios. A reworking of a classic is one of your requirements. If yours is already done, move on to something else. We don’t have any time to waste.”

  We both nodded slowly. Did Mark feel the same chill of failure I did?

  Mrs. C. tapped on the desk, then fluttered away to help someone. Mark and I grabbed our things and headed to the easel room.

  Mark set up immediately, right at the front of the room, his easel tipped to pick up the natural light from the one, massive window that took up almost an entire wall.

  I’d always admired his fearlessness. When I was just starting a piece (and probably getting it wrong), I couldn’t stand the thought of someone else watching, evaluating, judging. I always kept my easels facing the back of the room – preferably a corner, so no one could see what I was doing.

  Today, this had the added advantage of giving me a clear view of Mark at his easel, backlit by the light filtering through the window.

  He sat on a stool, one foot to the floor, the other curled up to rest on the crossbar. His shoulder twitched and rolled as he ran a pencil across the canvas in front of him, offering the sense of strength restrained. Contained. Put to use carefully.

  There should have been something weird about a guy in a letterman’s jacket, sitting in front of a canvas. Yet, I’d always been amazed by the way Mark could be so consumed by art without losing what made him a guy. Somehow he gave painting the same focus and masculine punch he gave basketball. And everything else.

  For a second I was reminded of Mark’s situation with his father – how Mark had to use that strength to protect himself.

  No one should have to do that.

  And Mark shouldn’t have to deal with a fickle, cheating girlfriend, either. He had enough on his plate.

  But if he was just using her to forget, like he said… would he care? If she’d been a past girlfriend I’d have thought not. But there was something different this time.

  And would he be mad at me for breaking them up if I told him? For that matter, would he believe me? It wasn’t like I had any proof. And if I told him, without any way to back it up, and Finn showed him the letter, wouldn’t he just think I was trying to break them up because I wanted him?

  Inwardly, I groaned. I wanted to protect Mark. But if he dumped me because he thought I was manipulating him, what was the point?

  Unaware of my staring, Mark sat up, rolled his shoulders, and frowned at the canvas.

  My breath came out in a long, slow huff. When he read that letter…

  At the sound of my sigh, Mark turned to look at me, curious. When he caught my stare, he smiled. “What?”

  I swallowed. “Nothing. I was looking at the light shining behind you and thinking about how to draw… that.”

  “Huh. Good luck. Did you see that study of light piece I did last semester?” He snorted and returned to the canvas.

  Yeah. I remembered. We’d been required to take a photograph featuring light and reproduce it on canvas. Mine had come out okay. Mark’s was incredible.

  “What? No snarky come-back?” he said without looking at me.

  When I didn’t reply immediately, Mark sighed and shook his head. “What is it with girls and your stupid moods?”

  I’d heard that tone before. “Trouble in paradise? Already?” I tried for a grin, but it kind of faltered and fell off my face. All I could see in my head was Karyn, leaning into Finn. And both their smiles when they realized no one would believe me if I told.

  Mark shrugged. “Not really. It’s just …” He sat up again and turned on his stool to face me, gesturing with his brush. “You’re pissy with me because I offered to help you with my friends. Karyn’s annoyed because I want to help you even though you don’t want it. And Mom’s mad because I didn’t tell her about Karyn before I asked her out… But you all smile and tell me everything’s fine. What is it with you? Why are you mad all the time and pretending you aren’t?”

  I swallowed. “I don’t know about your Mom, but Karyn’s probably acting weird because she’s afraid I’m going to try and break you guys up.” I bit my lip to stop myself saying more on that. “And I was just tired on Saturday. I’m not mad.” The image of myself, sitting in a circle with Mark and all his friends turned my stomach – their sideways glances and whispered conversations, laughing at me.

  But then… then…

  Then in my head I saw Karyn, sidling off into a corner with Finn when Mark didn’t notice. And I knew he wouldn’t notice. He just assumed she wouldn’t hurt him. The idiot.

  “Uh, actually... I’ve been thinking about what you said. I decided maybe it’s not such a bad idea.” Mainly because it gives me an opportunity to show you what a cow your girlfriend is.

  Mark stared at the wall. “You guys are – wait, what?” He jerked to look at me. He wasn’t smiling.

  I shrugged, uncomfortable. Had he changed his mind? “I thought about what you said. About how I should talk to your friends more… I tho
ught maybe it’s worth a try.” I dropped my eyes to dig through my pencil case for a soft-leaded pencil I could use to sketch. “It’s no biggie. I wasn’t sure, I just–”

  “No, no! I’m glad you changed your mind…” But he was staring at the wall again. Definitely not smiling. “You said Karyn thinks you’ll break us up?” He looked half-worried, half-amused. “Did I just walk into a soap-opera, or something?” He raised his eyebrows and scanned the room, eyes wide with mock fear.

  I threw a pencil at him and he ducked, laughing.

  “Mock me all you want. Girls get jealous. And the kind of girls you date won’t believe we’re just friends.”

  Mark stared at me for a second, the exaggerated expressions fading. “Why wouldn’t they believe we’re just friends?”

  I opened my mouth to respond, but he kept going.

  “Are they afraid my evil twin is about to be revealed? And you’re secretly a neurosurgeon who freed us from–”

  “Mark, would you please shut up.”

  “No, no, hear me out. I think I have a future in television: See, you’re actually the mad Doctor Danya, former CIA agent and–”

  I threw an eraser at Mark that he was only able to duck by virtue of being a great athlete. But he overbalanced and his stool tipped. He was forced to slide off it, arms windmilling, to keep himself from hitting the floor in a heap.

  “Oh, Mark!” I said sweetly, as he caught himself – and the stool. “You’re such a paragon of grace.”

  He shot me a look as he righted the stool, but the smile he stifled made it to his eyes. My heart kicked when he ran a hand through his hair and sat back down, muttering, pretending to be angry. It hurt to look at him, so I turned back to my easel.

  This whole situation just stank.

  I started half-heartedly sketching Mark’s silhouette, trying to capture the lines of his shoulders and jaw with the light pulling their edges into sharp relief. After a couple minutes I’d gotten so absorbed in the image in front of me, I’d forgotten the conversation we had.

  “What did you mean by the “kind” of girls I date?” Mark asked quietly a few minutes later.