Broken: A YA Paranormal Romance Novel (Volume 1 of the Reflections Books) Page 19

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  It was all I could do to drag myself out of bed Monday morning. A part of me knew this was all stupid, but I couldn't shake the depression. I was just aware enough to register Brandon's concerned glances as he drove me into school.

  Mrs. Sorenson shot me a nasty look as I stumbled into class. "Well isn't it nice of you to come to class today. And here we all thought you were doing so well you didn't need to bother with the test."

  I took the proffered test and made my unsteady way back to my desk. The class passed in a blur as I made a half-hearted attempt to focus on the questions and remember all kinds of facts about photosynthesis that I'd known just a few days before. It was useless. The separate pieces of information skittered about on the edge of my memory without ever becoming tangible enough to relate to the answer I needed.

  By the time class ended, I'd almost completely shut down. I registered the whispers as I made my way to English. I normally would've been mad, or possibly embarrassed, but it was like my feelings were wrapped in layers of cotton candy. If I really pushed, I could faintly feel the hard edges, but there were so many layers shrouding them. I just couldn't seem to muster up enough concentration to care. I was on autopilot now.

  I answered Britney's whispered questions without ever registering them and never once worried about whether or not I'd made sense. I parried Mrs. Campbell's concerned inquiries in much the same manner, probably not convincing her that I was okay, but at least persuading her to leave me alone, and then sleep-walked into the cafeteria. I hated the fact that I wanted Brandon to come sit down with me. If he did a convincing enough job pretending to like me and I tried really hard, maybe I'd believe it'd all just been my imagination. It'd be one less piece of my world crumbling out from under me.

  Britney slammed her tray down, but my listless gaze didn't move from the vacant corner where Brandon usually sat. A few minutes later a group of girls came to join us. I recognized them, but didn't bother putting names to the faces.

  It was like I got hit with another panic attack. Somehow I lost an hour, but nobody was running around calling for an ambulance so I must have at least responded to direct questions.

  Alec was sitting in his normal seat as I wandered into physics. I tried to remember whether or not I'd already heard the second bell ring. It wasn't important though. Not compared to the first thing I'd faced in hours that had the potential to hurt me.

  I could feel the edge, razor sharp, cleanly parting some of the layers of gauze that'd been wrapped around my emotions. It didn't make sense. Alec was barely even civil. He most definitely wasn't part of the support structure that'd been holding my world in its normal orbit, but suddenly my defenses were in danger of being breached.

  He looked up disinterestedly as I sat in my desk, and even that was enough to send little shivers of near pain coursing through my system. It wasn't real pain; I was still too cushioned from the world for that, but my body shied away from it just the same.

  I wanted to run screaming from the room, to jump through a window, to do anything to avoid coming into further contact with someone who so obviously hated me. The urges were all very real, but it was like I'd been drugged to the gills. I couldn't gather the energy to do anything about them. Instead my mind reached down and pulled extra layers of gauze over itself.

  I looked down at my Spanish test and wondered how I'd gotten here. There were answers on the page. They were unmistakably done in my awkward scrawl, but didn't make sense. I flipped the page over and found more of the same. My eyes idly traced down the page, finding blanks and almost of its own accord my pencil reached out and filled them in with words that seemed familiar, but whose meaning I couldn't seem to pin down.

  I resurfaced as I walked into the tutor lab, unsure if I'd passed anyone I should have greeted.

  I sat down at my usual spot and pulled out a book at random as Britney stomped into the room and threw her books down. She was obviously mad, but once again I couldn't muster enough concern to figure out what'd ticked her off.

  I blinked several times as I realized Mrs. Campbell had been speaking to me for several seconds. She was important, one of the few teachers that actually liked me. It was incredibly hard, but I focused on what she was saying, voluntarily pulling myself partway out of the wonderful cushion and exposing myself to some of the pain.

  "Are you sure you're okay?"

  My nod and smile must not have been very convincing.

  "Listen, there isn't any real reason to keep the lab open so late today, and you've made amazing progress catching up. Why don't you take the night off, and go straight home?"

  The idea didn't make sense. I knew all the words, but they wouldn't string themselves together in a way that had any meaning. I nodded anyway, and then put my book in my bag, which had somehow made it into her hands. She was holding it open as if expecting me to fill it.

  I found myself outside the school, sitting on the edge of the parking lot without a clear idea how I'd ended up there. There was a vaguely irritating noise behind me that didn't seem to fit with what I expected from school.

  I thought about turning to see what it was, but was thankfully too far back into the gauze to act on the thought. I went back to contemplating the pair of ants that were currently trekking across my right foot.

  "Adriana. Are you okay?"

  My insides were too raw. Just coming out long enough to listen to Mrs. Campbell had opened everything back up. My mind tried to shy away, to sink away from the certainty of more jagged shards being shoved into me, but this voice was an important one.

  Rachel looked down at me, her arms wrapped around her waist as if trying to hold herself together. "What are you doing?"

  The words stubbornly tried to avoid making sense, but I reached out with my trembling mind and forced them each into their proper place.

  "Waiting." The answer fell out of my mouth of its own accord. It took me several seconds to realize it was the truth. I didn't have a ride home until Britney finished up her regular studying stint.

  "For Britney? Do you want us to give you a ride home?"

  A slight movement, barely seen out of the corner of my eye, gave meaning to the last part of the sentence. A familiar-looking guy was standing a few feet from Rachel. I couldn't place him. I slowly shook my head, trying to jar something loose enough to figure out who he was.

  "Please, Adriana. It really isn't any trouble. James, can you get your car, please?"

  He looked angry. Like maybe he was going to argue, but as he opened his mouth Rachel turned and glared at him. It seemed odd to see someone only a little smaller than Alec back away from someone even smaller than me.

  The image stuck with me so strongly that I considered it until Rachel came over and took my hand. "What's wrong? It's just the two of us now, you don't have to worry about James, and I won't tell anyone else. I swear."

  Rachel's promise somehow seemed like it belonged from another time. The sincerity pulled me further out of my safe, numb shelter. Something in me wanted to confide in her, was willing to risk the pain of facing reality, but I was too far gone to be able to put what I was feeling into words.

  I shook my head again, not sure if it was a refusal or something else entirely. Rachel took it as the former and sat down next to me, pulling her knees up tight against her chest. A few seconds later I heard the howl of an after-market exhaust fed by a turbo-charged engine.

  The green Honda that came screaming through the parking lot was hardly recognizable as an Accord. It was approaching too quickly, but I couldn't bring myself to care. Besides, Rachel seemed unconcerned.

  Rachel helped me up as the car came to a screeching halt, all four tires locking up to slide it around so that the passenger side was facing us. The over-tinted windows smoothly slid down to reveal that James was indeed the driver, and he wasn't any happier than he'd been a few seconds earlier.

  I started towards the back seat, only to feel Rachel's surprisingly-firm grasp guide me towards the fron
t seat. She got me settled and then slipped in behind me.

  James pulled out of the parking lot with a rush of acceleration that pinned me to my seat. Normally I'd have gripped the door hard enough to make my fingers creak, but I was still strangely unconcerned with the possibility of dying. For the first time in months I simply slouched down in my seat and enjoyed the ride.

  The little Accord zipped around corners faster than I would've believed possible, its tiny engine howling as the turbos wound up in between shifts. My bemused state was interrupted by Rachel leaning forward and tapping me on the shoulder as she gestured for James to turn his music down.

  "I almost forgot. Guess what, Les Misérables is coming to Las Vegas. Not just a local cast, an actual touring cast out of London. It's gotten excellent reviews all over the U.S."

  I stared at her blankly, unsure where she was going. Some of her enthusiasm wilted in the face of my incomprehension.

  "I just thought maybe you'd want to go. You know. You said you loved the music, that it was what made you want to read the book. It's playing for more than a month, so there's plenty of time to make arrangements. I can set everything up if you want."

  It seemed impossible that she'd be so insensitive to my situation. I opened my mouth to tell her off, and then realized she wasn't privy to everything happening in my head. My world felt like it was disintegrating around me, and hers continued on as normal. It should have been depressing, but somehow I found it so ludicrous I giggled. The laugh had a definite edge of hysteria to it, but it still felt good.

  "Rachel, my life doesn't work like that. Even if I could afford a trip like that, my mom would never let me go. She's only an absentee parent when I need her."

  Rachel's soft blue eyes got really wide as she recoiled slightly. Whatever she was about to say was preempted as we were both thrown forward in our seats. James slid the car through a one-eighty turn that left us facing the direction we'd just come from, only a couple of feet from the start of our lane.

  "You're not making her walk!"

  It was obvious that whatever magical ability had allowed Rachel to face down the larger boy wasn't working anymore. He looked like he was set for a monster fight.

  "I'm not washing my car again."

  I expected Rachel to back down as soon as she realized he was spoiling for a fight, but if anything she looked more determined. It was hard to believe this was the same person I'd had to rescue from Cassie so recently.

  I stopped Rachel just before she could put the impressive lungful of air she'd just taken in to whatever use she'd planned. "It's okay. I'm better. The lane's dusty and exercise would do me good."

  She hesitated, obviously torn, but my fumbling fingers finally found the unfamiliar door release and I made the decision for her. I swung the door open and slipped out of the car before she could respond.

  I waved goodbye with a cheery casualness I thought did a pretty good job of hiding my desire to break into tears. It was amazing how I'd let the numbness slip away for nothing. Rachel wasn't any more my friend than she'd been a few minutes before. Instead she was probably freaked out. I'd have been so much better off if I'd just stayed oblivious to everything, and ignored her like I'd done everyone else today.

  The hot Utah sun was trying to knock me to my knees as I slowly made my way down our lane. For a moment I thought about what would happen if I fell and hurt myself.

  By the time Mom realized I was missing, I'd be a perfectly preserved mummy, sucked completely dry by the harsh climate, exactly as ordered for a pyramid burial.

  I hadn't realized some part of me was hoping Mom would be there waiting when I got home. I felt it shrink as I came around the corner and saw the empty cement pad.

  I walked through the door and dropped my things on the couch. I could feel myself sinking back into oblivion, but instead of welcoming it, I was suddenly terrified. I'd spent weeks numb to the entire world. I'd even missed Dad's favorite season, the one that'd become mine as well. It'd be all too easy to slip into the same kind of numbness now as a refuge against everything.

  What would happen if I failed to surface? It'd been easier to lapse into catatonia this time than last. Would I reach a point where I couldn't come back? There'd been a time right after the accident where Mom had thought I was already there.

  I was just numb enough still to think about such things without immediately collapsing. Even so, I felt a pang of dizziness as my mind warned me I'd pushed it too far today.

  I found myself in the kitchen, nearly finished making enchiladas with only vague ideas of why I'd started pulling ingredients out of the fridge. I wasn't hungry. I knew I should eat something, but that hardly merited putting together anything more complicated than a sandwich. What was I trying to accomplish?

  I slowly put the pan in the oven as I admitted to myself that even after more than two days, the odds were better than even that I'd be eating alone, that most of the food would go into the fridge untouched.

  My class work, neglected as it had been all day, really deserved my attention, but I didn't have the heart to pull it out. I knew I wouldn't find any kind of refuge there. Instead, I pulled out a pencil and a sheet of paper from my notebook, and started sketching. The process slowly started pulling me back out of the numbness.

  I wasn't actually any good as an artist. Mom had exposed me to enough art for me to realize that early on. I lacked some kind of creative spark necessary to achieve any kind of real beauty. Still, I occasionally enjoyed trying to recreate something I'd seen.

  This time I didn't try to guide my hand, I just let it create lines and curves at random, until something tugged at my subconscious, and a half-formed memory began to materialize on the page before me.

  I knew that the wavy vertical line off the side was destined to become a waterfall. The scene was starting to take shape, but for the first time in ages I still couldn't place it. A mossy boulder filled itself in with feathery detail, and then I realized the center of the piece was still blank. It was like my subconscious hadn't ever seen that part of the landscape.

  Only that didn't make sense. How could I not have seen part of whatever it was I was looking at? Unless it'd been blocked by something. But if so I would have drawn whatever it was that'd been in the foreground. I was even worse than normal when it came to drawing people or animals, but I had a good memory for everything else.

  I pushed the notepad away in frustration, and then started shaking as I finally recognized my drawing. It was the grotto from my dream, and the reason I hadn't filled in the center was that I'd never seen it. That was the spot where Alec had been standing.