Breakable (12 page)

I
ignored the bored look on his face. He always looked like that. I was so wired
with nervous energy, so sure I was finally taking the right step, being brave.
But I knew I couldn’t just pounce on him, so as he slumped against the wall
next to me and pulled his phone out, I tried to make small talk.

“How’s
Evelyn?” I barely listened to his answer, too busy forming the words in my
head.
I need to talk to you about something
–

“…we
were just figuring out who’s gonna drive to prom.”

The
first knock of dread pounded on my ribs. But I told myself not to be paranoid.
He wasn’t going to ask someone
else
.

“Oh.
Cool. Are a bunch of the guys going?” Maybe that was it. Maybe he hadn’t
planned to take a date at all.

“No,
just me and Ev. The other guys aren’t really interested.”

And
I just stood there, all my nerves draining away to be replaced by five parts
self-loathing, and one part relief. Thank God I hadn’t actually asked him.

I
couldn’t find normal words, so I just stared at him. He remained slumped
against the wall, tapping on his phone and I realized I was just supposed to
not care.

After
all, wasn’t that the teenage version of self-respect?

“Nice…that’s
nice for…for you guys…” I tried for nonchalance, but I knew it hadn’t worked.
It didn’t matter though.

Dex
shrugged.

We
never talked about it again.

When
the bell rang at the end of second period, I practically sprinted out of class,
pulling the compact from my bag as I went. In the hall, I flipped it open and
pretended to check my mascara.

“Are
you there?” I whispered under the noise of the gathering crowds on their way to
break. “I’m going to the bathroom. I have to talk to you. Dex asked me to
prom!”

Hoping
wherever she was, she heard me and could come, I ran for the little-used
handicapped bathroom outside the art wing. But when I got inside and flipped on
the lights, she wasn’t in the mirror.

“Older
Me?”

This
happened sometimes. Over the years she’d been in the mirror, we’d both spent
times listening to the other’s voice rise out of our purses, or a mirror in a
wall somewhere. No one else could hear it, of course. But it’s hard when you’re
surrounded by normal people who don’t talk to their alternate selves.
Distracting.

It
was worse for Older Me because she was married. Tom – her husband – might get
suspicious if she kept running off to the bathroom.

I
settled in to wait. Since it was break, this was as good a place as any to kill
half an hour. Besides, this one had a full-length mirror, so I could sit on the
floor and still see her if she arrived.

I
pulled a book out of my bag, but called for her every couple minutes, so she’d
know I was still waiting.

Twenty
minutes later, I’d given up on Older Me and on the book. My eyes kept flitting
over the words without absorbing them.

All
I could see was Dex’s face, his mouth forming those words.

Had
he been serious?

He
couldn’t have been. Surely…?

When
the bell rang I was no closer to deciding whether or not I’d
really
turned
down an invitation to the prom. But I knew one thing. I needed to watch Dex.

If
he really had changed, maybe I wouldn’t end up alone when Mark saw that letter
after all.

Chapter Fourteen

Doc
leans his head on his fist and asks me a question without meeting my eyes.

“Did
Dex know about your mental health issues?”

He
means the mirror. I always have to remind myself that. They all think she
doesn’t really exist. That’s why I don’t belong here. Because they don’t
understand.

“Stacy?”

“Yes.
Sorry, what?”

“I
asked if Dex was aware of your alternate self in the mirror and so forth.”

Strange.
I’ve never actually thought about that. “Um…I’m not sure?” I look him in the
eye when I say it because it’s the truth. “I s’pose someone must have told
him.” Someone being Belinda. “It seems like he couldn’t have avoided it.”

Doc
nods. “Yes, but I’m wondering if he was aware of any of that during your first
relationship?”

“I
don’t think so. If he was, he never said anything about it that I can remember.
Keep in mind, he was pretty drug addled.” Something I didn’t even know until
later. “He could have forgotten it. Or thought it wasn’t true…”

Doc
nods again and makes another note on his pad.

I
hate that thing. Every therapist here has one and they write things about me
without telling me what they’re writing. Sometimes I fantasize about reading
it. But then I think, I probably don’t want to hear what they have to say.

“The
reason I ask is because I think that the stigma attached to your struggles
affects how you believe others view you. By this I mean, you feel more
comfortable, more accepted by those who
aren’t
aware of your issues,
than those who are. Which would be natural.”

I
frown. “No. I wouldn’t say that.”

One
of Doc’s eyebrows slides up. He begins ticking off on his fingers. “Mark didn’t
know, Dex didn’t know. Yet your mother, Finn, Karyn, Belinda were all at least
aware of an issue… I know you’d probably characterize those individuals as your
antagonists. But I’d just like to explore whether there’s any chance you
encouraged the antipathy in the relationship? Perhaps after they began
questioning whether you were completely balanced?”

Anger
flares hot and liquid. He seriously wants to imply that I’ve
invited
problems
with these people? “No. I would have to disagree with you there,” I manage
through gritted teeth. “The people you mentioned expressed
their
problems with
me
. I didn’t start it.”

Doc
sits back, but his lips pull forward. “Would you be willing to entertain the
concept that these relationships could have been different if–?”

“No.
I wouldn’t. Doc, you can psychobabble all you want, and over-analyze, or
whatever. But the truth is, there are some people in this world who can’t stand
me. And no matter what I did, they were never going to think happy thoughts
when I was in front of them.”

“Now,
Stacy–”

“No,
don’t try to twist this around!” I hear my voice go up and stop for a second to
calm myself.

Deep
breaths. Cold. Calm. Sane.

Then
I swallow the prick of fear and look him in the eye.

“I
spent all my high school years having to watch over my shoulder. Then after my
incident,
I woke up in a hospital thinking I was finally out of that hell. But the
hell just came with me and cut itself into my skin.” I pause again, searching
for calm. “Do you know what happens when I walk down the road now, Doc?”

He
shakes his head.

“When
I walk down the street, or into a store, or whatever, the way I’m treated all
depends on how I’m dressed.” My mother’s face flashes in my head for a second
and I have to laugh at the irony of it. “If it’s cold and I’m in long sleeves,
and a scarf with my hair down they can’t really see my scars. Hence, I’m
normal. They notice me or they don’t, they help me or they don’t. Whatever.

“But
if it’s warm outside, or there’s a reason I have to wear shorter clothing?
Everything’s different.”

“Different,
how?” I can see the glimmer of interest in Doc’s eye.

“They
don’t deal with
me
, they deal with my scars. They talk to my scars. They
avoid certain words in case it reminds me of my scars. Or they avoid me.

“The
problem is, some people used to act that way before too. So now, when I walk
into a room, if my scars show and someone ignores me, or is cruel, or even
teasing, I have to wonder – do they just think I’m weird? Would they have
disliked me anyway? Or are they reacting that way to my body?” I swallow the
tension that comes with the images flicking through my head of shop assistants
eyebrows climbing before they find a reason to ask their colleagues to help me;
Of strangers whose eyes fix on me for a moment, then move on without a word, or
a smile; Of running into former classmates on the street and their obvious
desire to be anywhere else but near me.

Doc
clears his throat. “I can see how that would be…disturbing.”

“Can
you? I doubt it. But let me say this: Dex may not have known about my “mental
health issues”, but whatever his other faults, he never pretended to be
anything but happy to be near me. And people like that are precious few in my
life.”

Doc’s
hand pauses mid-stroke on his page. “What about Mark?” he asks, quietly.

Curse
him.

The
next day, I was bent over the trough washing brushes under the faucet when the
bell rang. Mark appeared at my side, turned on the next faucet down and started
washing his.

“Did
you want to come to the rec room with me?” he asked casually.

I
froze. “What, now?”

“Yes,
now. If you’re coming Friday, they need to get used to you.”

“But–”

“You
said you thought it was a good idea.”

“Yes,
but–”

“It’s
just break, Stacy.” He finished rinsing the brush and flicked it over the sink
a few times to rid it of excess water. Then he turned to face me, his
expression blank. “Trust me,” he said quietly.

Oh,
geez.

 I
swallowed hard and turned off my faucet, tapping my brushes on the side of the
steel sink. The hollow sound of the metal echoed the feeling in my stomach.
“Okay,” I said to the sink.

Mark
patted my shoulder, then walked off to get his bag. I followed reluctantly,
half-warmed by his touch, half-frozen in fear at what I was about to do.What
had I been thinking, agreeing to this?

Oh,
that’s right. His bovine of a girlfriend was cheating on him.

Taking
a deep breath, I grabbed my bag off the back of my chair. There was good reason
to put myself in the firing line. I had to stay focused.

Karyn
was waiting when we stepped into the hall. She smiled at Mark, kissed him, and
shot me a look of unguarded fury as soon as he turned to greet another guy
walking down the hall.

Moo.

Once
again, they wandered down the hall, talking and laughing, letting everyone give
them space. And I tagged along. This was going to be fun.

By
the time we reached the rec room, I’d almost convinced myself it wasn’t worth
it. The ratio of Stacy-Haters to Stacy-Ignorers rose dramatically when I
stepped through that door. Any time Mark turned his back, I was risking–

The
door squeaked open. Mark held it for Karyn, then for me. I offered a smile as I
passed him, but frankly I’d been hoping to follow him in, stay in his shadow,
let them ignore me if they would.

Instead,
I followed Karyn into the long, narrow room. I’d only been in there twice
before. Nothing had changed. It was still lined with ragged furniture, the
walls still covered by motivational posters – most of which had been changed to
read something obscene.

Karyn
made a beeline for the long couch on the left where – surprise, surprise – Finn
was already seated. She plopped down next to him, then baldly looked at me.

I
had to hand it to her, the girl had guts.

I
hadn’t realized I’d stopped in the middle of the floor, staring, until Finn
sneered at me, “Take a picture, C.”

Heat
rose on my cheeks. I was sorely aware that the volume in the room had dropped
dramatically as soon as I walked in. I turned to look for Mark, found him
standing just inside the door, talking to Liam, and my stomach dropped to my
toes. I needed to find a seat. Preferably somewhere out of the way. But I
didn’t want to stand here, turning circles like a moron–

“Stacy?”
The deep voice rose behind me, uncertainly.

I
turned and almost clapped my hands with relief. Dex sat on a little two-seater,
one arm thrown over the back. When I met his gaze, he dropped his eyes to the
empty seat next to him, then back to me. One eyebrow rose.

I
exhaled and practically lunged the three steps to where he was seated. “Hi,” I
said as I dropped into the seat, scanning the room for threats. I couldn’t be
too careful.

“Hi,”
Dex said, pulling my attention from the room. When I looked at him, he smiled.
“Fancy seeing you here.” There was a note of relief in his voice, too, I
realized.

“Yeah,
well, remind me never to do it again,” I muttered.

“Ditto.”
He rolled his eyes.

“So,
anyway
…” The snarky whine rose from Dex’s other side. Belinda. Of
course. Seated in the chair next to Dex’s side of the couch.

As
Dex turned back to listen to her, I reached down to find something to eat in my
bag. Banana. Perfect. That would give me something to do for a while.

I
pulled the browning fruit from my bag and peeled it slowly, tuning in to as
many conversations as I could, listening for my name.

“…should
have seen it man, it was a thing of beauty.”

“…and
then she said – you won’t believe this! – she said
I
was the one who
needed to go on a diet!”

“…McPherson
is going to kill me. He’s already given me an extension once…”

“…it’s
like she’s
practicing
.”

I
froze, halfway through taking a bite of the banana. That was Karyn’s voice. Her
comment got a chuckle from Finn. “Yeah, or advertising.”

I
looked at them then, found Finn’s flinty gaze.

I
bit off the banana, chewed quickly. Finn pretended to wince and grab his
crotch. “Oh, bad idea, C. No-one wants your
teeth
involved.”

Several
chuckles rose from those seated nearby.

“Whatever,
Finn.” I knew it was lame, but I couldn’t risk starting something with him. Not
the minute I showed up. If I was going to be around these people more, I had to
give them a chance to ignore me.

Finn
looked like he was about to say something else, but just then, Mark walked up
and dropped into the seat next to Karyn. He threw his arm over the back of the
couch, behind her shoulders, and hiked one foot up, resting his ankle on the
opposite knee. A position which allowed him to rest the bent knee against
Karyn’s thigh. Of course, she wiggled closer so his knee lay practically in her
lap.

I
wanted to throw up.

Mark
spoke quietly, Karyn laughed and flirted. Finn sat back, watching them,
interjecting occasionally in their conversation. Making the other two laugh.

The
three of them made a cozy little picture. If I hadn’t seen Finn and Karyn in
the hallway, I would never have guessed. They were better than I thought at
hiding their relationship.

Crap.

“Hello?
Stace?” Dex snapped his fingers in front of my face.

I
blinked and turned. Belinda must have found someone else to flirt with. She was
turned away from him, talking to someone on her other side.

“So
do I make it into your daydreams anymore?” He grinned and that eyebrow rose
again.

I
rolled my eyes. “Only as the villain.”

His
grin faded. “I deserved that, I guess.”

I
sighed and gave him a flat look. “Look, I’m sorry about this morning. I know I
was harsh. I just–”

“Don’t,”
he said, his voice almost sharp. “You were right. I shouldn’t have acted like
we could just ignore everything that happened.”

I
blinked. There it was again. Another apology. From
Dex
. And he met my
eyes. Didn’t shy away. Didn’t downplay what he was saying.

“Wow,”
I said, giving him a lopsided grin. “You really have changed.”

He
grimaced. “I’m trying to.”

We
settled into a conversation then that was, if not easy, at least not awkward. I
asked him some questions about rehab. He answered. He asked me about school. I
pretended it wasn’t as bad as it had been.

I
talked enough that it took a long time to finish the banana. And I got to
ignore the whispers and chuckles that punctuated the room.