Broken: A YA Paranormal Romance Novel (Volume 1 of the Reflections Books) Page 20

  Chapter 13

  Morning came not a moment too soon after a night filled with tossing and turning. Every time I nodded off, I awoke a few minutes later, my mind reaching for something that wasn't there, only to snap back as it didn't find what it was looking for. Each time the backlash woke me up, I tried to figure out what was going on, but I didn't succeed until nearly morning.

  I'd been trying to find the vivid dreams again. I'd finally stopped thinking about them, finally stopped yearning for them every night, only to have my stupid subconscious somehow mix them up with real life. That was really the thing that was the most unnerving. I'd only ever unconsciously drawn real places. To draw a pretend place was surprisingly unsettling, but I almost couldn't blame whatever part of me had gotten confused. The dreams were so clear and sharp they sometimes seemed more real than the rest of my life.

  By the time I finally realized what was keeping me from getting real sleep it was too late to worry about trying to get anymore rest. I just stared out my window at the light the previous owners had mounted on a pole. It was just close enough to see an amazingly thick cloud of insects swirl around it, captivated by the artificial glow.

  When I walked downstairs I found Mom's camping equipment piled in the living room. For all I'd tossed and turned, I must have gotten some sleep to have not heard her come in. I contemplated jotting down a note before just shrugging and skipping outside, happy for once to be shivering. It wouldn't last. Eventually the sun would clear the hills, and we'd be headed for eighty-plus degrees, but I could at least enjoy the next hour or so without worrying I was going to melt right out of my clothes.

  Walking down the lane, I tried to decide whether or not I wanted Brandon to show up today. After my mixed signals yesterday I figured there was a better than even chance he'd 'forget' to come get me. Strangely enough that didn't bother me as much as I thought it would. It was like walking down the lane managed to put things back in perspective for me.

  How could I be put out about something I hadn't ever actually believed was possible?

  I almost refused to believe my eyes when I came around the bend in our lane and saw a black Mustang parked on the side of the road. Brandon stood up from where he'd been leaning against the sports car and flashed me a blinding smile. He moved towards me with a casual grace that made little shivers run through me despite my earlier decision not to let his interest, or lack thereof, affect me.

  "I had a bet with myself that you weren't going to wait. Somehow the fact I just lost doesn't matter now."

  It didn't seem possible he was talking to me, that anyone so gorgeous could mean something like that about me. I opened my mouth, maybe to laugh the comment off, or otherwise hedge my bets against the humiliation and inevitable mocking laughter. Whatever it was I'd intended on saying evaporated away the instant he reached out and slowly slid his finger down the side of my face.

  The tiny part of me that was still screaming none of this could be real was pulled along by the rest of me. I completely abandoned myself to the sensations created by his touch. My nerve endings didn't know whether to classify his finger as icy cold or scorching hot, but before I could recoil in pain the sensation gave way to a tingly warmth that sank down into my center, simultaneously tightening and relaxing parts I didn't even know I had.

  My pounding heart seemed loud enough to hear from across the street. I opened my eyes, afraid he could somehow hear the overworked muscle, already flushing red with embarrassment, only to find a gentle smile waiting for me. If there was any insincerity to the expression, I was utterly unable to detect it. I cleared my throat, seeking to avoid the awkwardness that always followed these kinds of moments, but Brandon effortlessly defused all of that by opening my door and helping me into the car.

  "I'm sorry I wasn't around yesterday. Some things came up that demanded my attention."

  The music was lower than usual, a possible sign he wanted to talk? "Did you manage to resolve them successfully?"

  Again that incredible smile flashed across his face. "They were touch and go for a little bit, but I'm most pleased with how everything worked out."

  I'd spent all of Monday in a daze, and felt much the same now, only this time it was a daze of good fortune. It hardly bothered me when Britney snubbed me during English. I flew through my Algebra assignment, finishing up the one from yesterday as well as the one Mrs. Campbell assigned, before the bell rang to release us.

  The only thing that even threatened my bubble of happiness was when I walked into the lunchroom and saw that Britney was sitting with the cheerleaders who'd come and sat at our table yesterday.

  It was blatantly obvious I wasn't welcome. Unsure where to sit, I almost spun around and walked back into the hall until Brandon caught my eye and waved me over.

  I had to detour around the tangle of tables that belonged to the closest thing Sanctuary had to real Goths. My wandering path brought me around to where I could see what I'd mentally dubbed 'Alec's corner'.

  It was a good thing there was an empty chair nearby. The force of Jasmin's stare was almost a palpable thing; my knees got weak so quickly it was like she'd reached out and pushed me. I steadied myself and then tried to ignore the way my skin crawled as I crossed the rest of the distance to Brandon's table.

  "The mongrels unnerve you a bit?"

  The scorn on the face that the comment belonged to was unnerving. I'd seen him several times before, but didn't have a name to go with his aristocratic features.

  "That's enough, Vincent."

  A trace of rebelliousness flared up at Brandon's chastisement, but Vincent buried it so quickly I almost didn't have enough time to classify it before it disappeared. Interestingly enough, I could see Cassie out of the corner of my eye, and she didn't look any happier than Vincent.

  The rest of lunch flew by. I'd never realized how much fun it could be to belong to a group. Things weren't ideal; I'd never met a group with so many inside jokes. Half the time I felt like there was an entire conversation being carried on over my head, but sitting next to Brandon left me with such a tingly feeling all along my right side that I didn't really mind.

  Not even the presence of a pop quiz in History managed to faze me. Almost before I knew it I was sitting down in Physics.

  As usual, Alec slipped into class a half second before the bell. I was so happy I forgot how arrogant he was, and I smiled at him as he sat down. It was like he was looking at something that wasn't even human. My insides seemed to freeze and shrink. I couldn't even muster up my normal blush of embarrassment. I'd had plenty of people hate me since I'd arrived in Sanctuary, but he was the first person I'd met who I was convinced wouldn't have thrown me a life preserver if I was drowning. It wasn't even because saving me would be too much work. He was completely convinced the world would be a better place without me.

  I'd never been so unnerved in my life. As Mrs. Alexander took roll and then released us into our groups, I was still trying to pull myself back together. It didn't help when I realized we were being evaluated today.

  I fished out my notes and desperately tried to remember how to calculate some of the stuff we'd need to know in order to successfully get our weight up the ramp, over the obstacles, and otherwise to the appropriate destination using the minimum number of pulleys, the shortest ramp, and the thinnest string possible.

  Alec hardly even looked up as Mrs. Alexander came by with our particular spool of thread, an array of metric weights, and a note card bearing the amount of weight we'd been assigned to move around.

  I was still leafing through my binder when Alec started testing the strength of our 'tow line.' I scooted my desk over and picked up a weight to hand to him, only to see the thread break as he successfully figured out the breaking point.

  Again and again it happened. I ran a calculation for how many pulleys we'd need to lift our weight up the thirty-degree incline on a string able to hold only a fourth as much, only to look over at his paper and see not only had he already arrived at the
correct figure, he'd already thought to adjust for starting friction.

  Not used to being outclassed academically, I got flustered, which led to a misplaced decimal, and then an incorrect conversion from English to metric. Alec just continued on, never seeming to really hurry, never actually making a mistake, but still grinding through calculations with a speed I might have been able to match on a good day, but couldn't even approach today.

  It would've been much easier to just stop my efforts and watch him work, but I was too stubborn to give up.

  Alec finished up with the theoretical portion of the assignment, and started stringing the pulleys while most of the other groups were still arguing over whether or not they could afford to add a few extra grams for extra credit.

  If there was a single person in the class who didn't need any extra credit, it was Alec; but he calmly loaded the system with an extra sixteen grams, caught Mrs. Alexander's eye, and then smoothly started the train of weights moving up the ramp, over the wall, through the woods, and right up to Grandma's house.

  It wasn't fair that someone who missed so many days of school could be so consistently right. He must have an IQ of 160. That and an ego big enough for someone twice as smart.

  Mrs. Alexander shuffled over and smiled at the pair of us. "Sixteen grams. Most impressive, you two. An entire gram more than I would have ventured to risk myself, and done before anyone else. I thought the pair of you would make a great team."

  The easiest thing would have been to stay quiet and just let her believe I'd played an integral part of the project, but I didn't like getting credit for something I hadn't done. It was the worst kind of lying.

  "Mrs. Alexander, I didn't actually do any of it. I kept making mistakes."

  She chuckled so hard, for a second I thought the pencil behind her ear was going to fall out. "I rather suspect you're understating your accomplishments, my dear. Didn't contribute indeed. As if Nora's favorite student would just sit around while there were equations to solve."

  I felt like I'd been hit in the stomach. I hadn't realized just how fond of me Mrs. Campbell was. My mind whirling with too many thoughts to sort out, I turned to go back to my desk, only to find Alec staring at me. He still didn't seem happy to be sharing the same room with me, but the complete disgust from half an hour before had been replaced with something more measuring.

  In Spanish, Mrs. Tiggs took special delight in telling us that she'd started grading our tests and a couple of them weren't looking very good. I suffered through the last hour of school and then hurried to my locker. I didn't really want to meet up with Britney, but I also didn't want to alienate her any more than I already had.

  I shouldn't have even bothered. I waited around for a full fifteen minutes before finally heading over to the tutoring lab. Britney was watching the door when I arrived. She didn't even bother trying to mask the flash of satisfaction that crossed her face when I walked in late, obviously having spent the last little while waiting for her.

  I wanted to scream, or maybe cry. It was amazing how quickly a perfect day could go down the tubes. I turned towards my normal table, and Rachel caught my eye. Sitting in a pool of light from one of the overhead skylights, she looked like Britney's antithesis. Smiling, happy to see me, and obviously already having forgiven me for my weirdness from the day before. I smiled back and sat down, relieved the most important parts of my social life had survived.

  Britney might hate me, I might have lost the cool factor resulting from all of the rumors about my imaginary boyfriend having died in a car wreck, but Brandon still miraculously wanted to spend time with me, and Rachel was still shaping up to be the best friend any girl ever had.

  It was too bad the two nicest people I'd ever met hadn't been born in the same family. Of course, Rachel was so inherently good, and Brandon was so reasonable about everything. If I could get the pair of them to spend some time together it would probably go a long ways towards patching up the stupid feud Alec seemed so determined to keep alive.

  I thought about broaching the idea with Rachel, but discarded the notion immediately. She would just clam up, just like she always did whenever anything relating to her brother was mentioned. I'd have to be sneaky to get the two of them together.

  Mrs. Campbell needed a little bit of reassuring when she stopped by my desk, which I did happily now that my personal universe was looking up once again, and then I dug into my homework with near-normal gusto.

  Time flew by all too quickly. Soon it was just me holding down the fort and trying to take care of a trio of freshmen girls who seemed to be at least slightly ahead of the normal cramming curve. I was glad they weren't waiting until the day before the test to come in for help, but it was looking like tomorrow wasn't going to be any fun. Maybe I'd get lucky again, and most of the lazy ones would give up before my shift started.

  I turned around from explaining for the fourth time to the third person why you couldn't prove congruence of two triangles with the nonexistent angle-angle-angle postulate, only to find that Britney had slipped out of the room.

  It was possible she'd just gone to the restroom. I tried to remind myself of all of the places she could be, and all of the reasons she might have left that didn't involve abandoning me here. Rachel met me on my way back to my table to gather up my books.

  "She left with Rick Anders."

  I mustered a grin. "Was my panic that obvious?"

  "No, I was just watching her to see who she had in her sights for the Ashure Day Dance. Then when I saw her leave I realized that would mean you wouldn't have a ride home."

  I put the last couple of books in my backpack and shrugged. "I think she's mad. I guess she has pretty good reason to be, but she hasn't even given me a chance to apologize."

  The first half of Rachel's comment finally sank in, and I nearly tripped. "Wait, what dance?"

  "Ashure Day. It's an...a local tradition. Think of it kind of like earth day, but with a dance. Kind of like a pagan Prom. Or maybe a pagan homecoming since it's still fall."

  Prom was my arch-nemesis. There were really only two times a year that the universe managed to penetrate my historical indifference to the opposite sex. Prom, and Valentine's Day. Of the two, Prom was the more deadly. Valentine's Day was usually filled with enough examples of guys screwing up to make me feel okay. They were always picking the wrong present, forgetting to buy one, or otherwise making the day less than perfect. That in turn helped me remember that most relationships seemed to be more fuss and mess than they were worth. Why get something built up so much in your mind that you can't possibly ever realize it?

  All of the little things about Valentine's Day that grounded me in reality were overcome by the mystique of Prom. Instead of people fighting, there were dozens, sometimes even hundreds, of couples who all seemed to be very much in love. Everyone got to dress up and go dancing in a place that'd been transformed into another world. Even before I'd gotten old enough to attend Prom, I'd still invariably spent the day grouchy and depressed. Things only got worse as I'd aged, presumably because I wasn't really as indifferent as I liked to pretend, and I couldn't hide behind the excuse of being too young to be asked anymore.

  My pulse had already skyrocketed; I almost didn't hear what Rachel was saying over the pounding in my ears.

  "...of course it's still a little ways away, but a girl like Britney starts early so she gets as high up the social food chain as possible."

  Rachel's words calmed me a little at the same time they sparked confusion. I'd never heard her be quite so cynical. It was completely at odds with the innocent, accepting exterior she usually displayed.

  My surprise must have leaked through. Almost as soon the thought crossed my mind Rachel's demeanor crossed back from the older, jaded visage, to one that was more youthful, even embarrassed. "Sorry, I know she's your friend. I shouldn't say things like that, but that's really what she's doing. By the time the actual dance arrives, everyone who is anyone will have a date, most of them picked out
by the girl weeks before the boy even started thinking about the dance."

  There wasn't really any bitterness in her voice, but there was something, maybe the same kind of longing I felt when I talked about Prom. "You're probably right. That would fit with what I know of Britney so far."

  "Do you need us to give you a ride?"

  I looked over and saw that James was once again glaring at me, somehow having approached to within a few feet without making any noise. "I should probably make sure she isn't waiting somewhere for me. That's probably half of why she's so mad. I was so out of things yesterday I didn't think to let her know I was headed home with you."

  Rachel looked for a moment like she wanted to disagree, but she nodded, in the kind of noncommittal way people use when they don't really agree, but are ready to let you make your own mistakes.

  Rachel pulled her books together, and then followed me through the door, James two steps behind, and looking, amazingly enough, even more surly than he had a few seconds before. Rachel didn't seem to be one of those people who always had to be talking about something, but even so, two minutes of silence were enough to leave me scrambling for something to talk about.

  "Thanks for telling me about Les Misérables. I mean, I should have said thanks yesterday, but I really do appreciate you thinking of me. It was really nice."

  Rachel's eyes lit up brighter than I'd seen them in a while. "You're welcome. Does that mean we can go to Vegas?"

  It seemed like a crime to deny her, but I knew Mom didn't have the spare money to send me on a two-hour trip to an opera. I was working now, but by the time I could save up enough to pay for gas, food, and a ticket, the production would've moved on.

  "I'm sorry, I'd like to go, but I just don't think I can. If it was running for an extra month or two I could probably save up enough money from tutoring, but it isn't, so it just isn't going to happen."

  Rachel nodded, and for a second it was easy to forget that she probably got more spending money each month than I'd see all year.

  "That's okay. Things like that are always coming through Vegas. We can just go the next time they come to town."

  I nodded and smiled, surprised that the thought of so much time trapped in a car with someone didn't make me want to run away screaming. Cars were scary. All that time with nothing to do but talk, and once you started talking to people they wanted to know things. Things that weren't any of their business, things you weren't ready to discuss. Somehow I knew Rachel wouldn't pry. It was like keeping so many secrets for her brother had made her especially sensitive to other people's secrets.

  Another few steps brought us to the door, and I held it open for Rachel to follow me outside. The intense heat felt like a physical blow. I could almost feel my pores open up in an effort to keep me from overheating.

  The sensory overload as my eyes tried to adjust to the unfiltered afternoon sun momentarily distracted me. It wasn't until I heard the other door swing shut that I realized James had followed us through, but he'd taken the door on the right instead of the one of the left that I'd been holding open for him. Wow, talk about a chauvinistic pig.

  It wasn't worth getting bent out of shape. I let my door swing shut, and walked over to Rachel's side so that I could see the entire parking lot. Empty as it was, it didn't take very long to realize Britney's little white Saturn was gone.

  "I thought you might still be here."

  The voice caught me by surprise. I probably would've jumped and screamed a little if I hadn't recognized it.

  Brandon was walking towards us with his characteristic casual stride, and I felt my heart speed up a little as I remembered our conversation from earlier in the day.

  "Brandon! What are you still doing here?"

  I heard some movement off to my right, but was so focused on Brandon's response that none of it really registered. The smile gracing his breathtaking face was like the ultimate treat.

  "Oh, I was helping out with the new set for the theater class' production of Arsenic and Old Lace."

  I was suddenly glad Britney had abandoned me. If it resulted in me seeing Brandon again today it couldn't be all bad. In fact, my life felt pretty much perfect right now. Wait, not quite. If he'd greeted me with a hug in addition to the smile, then things would have been perfect.

  I felt myself blushing almost as soon as the thought crossed my mind. My family wasn't...hadn't been demonstrative. I wouldn't know what to do if he hugged me. In an effort to cover my embarrassment, I turned back to Rachel and James, only to feel my jaw figuratively hit the ground.

  James was standing between Rachel and Brandon, slightly crouched in a posture that looked strangely familiar. I heard footsteps to my left as Brandon finished crossing the last few feet between us. James backed up a half step, one arm stretched out behind him, pushing Rachel back. I suddenly realized why his movements seemed so familiar. I'd seen dozens of celebrities being shepherded out of one award show or another by professional bodyguards who acted exactly like James was acting right now.

  Only they usually weren't so obvious about it. The only time I'd ever seen a bodyguard physically push their client around was when some up-and-coming soap star had a bottle thrown at her by the wife of someone she was sleeping with. I looked past Brandon, expecting to see something threatening headed towards us. I even opened my mouth to warn Brandon, but there wasn't anything there, just Brandon, still with the same casual smile as he reached out and squeezed my arm.

  "Hi, guys. I just thought I'd see if Adri needed a ride home."

  It was like I'd been hit by a bus. My arm tingled at the same time my heart started skipping beats. My body was trying to shut down as a panic attack loomed on the horizon, but not succeeding because it was also revving up from standing so close to Brandon.

  I think I said goodbye to Rachel and James. I kind of fuzzed out. The next thing I knew Brandon was pulling onto our cement pad.

  "So it looks like Britney's out. Do you mind if I give you a ride home on Tuesdays and Thursdays?"

  Did I mind? Of course not. "That would be really great. Thanks for offering."

  Brandon ran one finger down the side of my face, and then leaned back with a smile as I reached for the door.

  It wasn't until I was out of the car that I realized our Jeep was parked in its normal spot off to the side of the house. Excited to talk to Mom about her last outing, I waved goodbye to Brandon and hurried to the door.

  Mom hardly even looked up from her laptop as I walked in. Whew, no need to go through the third degree about Brandon.

  "Anything promising, Mom?"

  "Hmm? I don't know. Maybe one or two will be okay once I've touched them up, but this brochure is proving tougher than expected. Can we talk after dinner?"

  By now I really should have been used to Mom ignoring me when she got buried in a project. I shrugged and went upstairs to change.

  Hours later, having finished up all my homework and endured the agony of dinner, I was finally free to do whatever I wanted with the last few minutes of my night.

  My room was still miserable, but with Mom sitting down in the living room with her laptop going through the gigs of data that she'd shot over the last few days, it offered the only real chance at some time alone.

  I trudged up the stairs, shut my door, and then realized I wasn't sure what to do with myself. I'd spent most of the time since we'd arrived either buried in homework, or borderline catatonic.

  The obvious choice was sitting on the rickety table next to my bed, but I wasn't sure if I was up to Les Misérables right now. Maybe in a few weeks, once the production had left Vegas, I'd be ready to delve back into it. Right now it was just another reminder of how many things in my life I didn't have control over.

  No, that was right out. I thumbed through Pride and Prejudice for a few minutes, and then just gave up and headed to the bathroom.

  A short time later, teeth brushed and face washed, I swung my window wide open and climbed into bed. It would take hours for the air
to cool down enough to start leeching some of the heat out of my room, but it was better than nothing. I'd at least sleep better for the second half of the night.

  As tired as I was, my mind didn't want to shut down yet. Mom didn't seem to think it was at all odd that the city had flip-flopped so completely on the job. First she had it, then she didn't, now she did again. None of it made sense, but she seemed perfectly ready to accept everything at face value. Maybe her way was the best. I certainly envied her. Not the not knowing, but the fact that she didn't have to worry about what it all meant. How did I get stuck being the parent, while she got to be the kid?

  Who'd be interested in helping us? No, that wasn't the right question. The key to figuring this all out was to decide who could've helped us out. Nobody we'd known back in Minnesota could've strong-armed both the president of a bank and the mayor. Especially not from all the way back there.

  It had to be someone local, and they had to be either rich, powerful, or both. The answer was so obvious I felt like an idiot for not realizing who it was from the start. Who had I been told, almost from my first day here, were the two most influential families in Sanctuary? The Worthingfields and the Graveses. Both of which had at least one member of the family my age, one of whom seemed to hate me profoundly.

  What was it the mayor had said? "I can't promise he'll even read it." It was a he who'd intervened on our behalf, and Rachel and Alec's father had died years ago, while Brandon's father...actually I knew next to nothing about Brandon's parents. I wasn't even sure whether or not they were around. They must be though--if it had been a male who'd saved us, then it couldn't be the Graveses, and that left only Brandon's family.

  It was hard to believe that Brandon had stepped in and done so much for us, but the pieces fit together so tightly. Brandon was even more wonderful and amazing than I'd thought before.

  Part of me expected this new revelation to keep my mind whirling so fast that it would take me hours to go to sleep. I was only partly right. It took quite a while for me to go to sleep, but this time the culprit was the light outside my window.