Breaking Ties (2 page)

And yet another knock resulted in nothing more than silence.

“Bailey?” I asked, rapping softly on the door with the tips of my fingers. “Is everything okay in there?”

“Go away, Amanda,” she moaned, her voice muffled as if she were crying into a pillow. And if there was ever any doubt that she was in a bad mood, there wasn’t any more. She’d called me Amanda—and I thought the days of her using that word as a weapon were far behind us. Apparently, they weren’t.

Maybe it
was
something I’d done.

“Listen, I know you’re upset and you don’t want to talk, but we’re worried about you.” When she didn’t say anything, I stood a little taller and placed my hand on the doorknob. “I’m coming in, okay?”

“Go away,” she said again, but this time I cracked the door, just in time to have a pillow thrown at my face. “
Get out
.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” I walked in and kicked the pillow at my feet before starting toward her. My voice was strong and steady, but my steps weren’t as confident. Bailey had inherited Dad’s short fuse. While he expressed his anger in words, she took to throwing and breaking things—lots of things. I still carried a scar on my right shoulder from her outburst at learning about Mom and Dad’s separation. It wasn’t anything major, just a deep enough cut to leave a scar and a daily reminder to stay out of her way when she was on the warpath.

I found myself dragging my heels across the carpet as I reached the corner of her canopy bed. I didn’t want to risk having anything else thrown at me, but I couldn’t very well leave her alone. Lucky for me, all she had left was one last pillow at her disposal, so I ruled out any potential injuries.

I took a seat on the corner of the mattress. She didn’t waste a second to sit up, throw her feet over the side, and stand. She stomped across the room, keeping her back to me, and sank into her desk chair. I didn’t have to see her face to know she was crying.

“Bailey, what’s going on?” I watched as she lifted her hand to wipe a tear. “We’re worried about you.”

“I never asked you to worry.”

“Well, of course not,” I said. “But that’s not how things work around here. We’re family. We love you; therefore, when you start acting out, we’re inclined to worry. See how that works?”

“Just go away, Mandy,” she said, and this time she didn’t seem so angry. This time, she sounded defeated.

I sat on the bed, watching her. I could sense there was something she wanted to say, something she felt like I needed to know. But I already knew she wasn’t going to say anything. Bailey always took it upon herself to carry the weight of the world. Just like when she’d overheard Dad on the phone with Ripken all those weeks ago and knew we were moving back to California, she kept it to herself. Like Dad, she was stubborn in that way. She didn’t think it was necessary to open up, to let people help her when things got too hard. She was always the kind to keep everything on the inside, letting it boil up until it boiled so hot and so high that she couldn’t manage it on her own.

Only then would she finally explode. But I didn’t want to wait for that. I loved her too much to watch her world implode.

What happened? Why was she so upset?

I ran a list of scenarios all day, but nothing seemed to line up. Unplanned pregnancy? Sure, I could see that happening. The way she and Jones were all over each other in public, I didn’t want to imagine what happened behind closed doors. But the more I thought about it, the less likely it seemed. If that were the case, and Bailey was pregnant, Jones would be among the many people she was lashing out at. He’d probably get the brunt of it. It was likely, but not the
most
likely possibility, so I only thought harder.
What could it be?
Was it possible that she’d only woken up on the wrong side of the bed?

“You know you can talk to me,” I said, and this time she turned around, her red and puffy eyes meeting mine.

“Mandy,” a tear slipped down her face, “you’re not going to like what I have to say.”

“It doesn’t matter whether or not I like it,” I said. “You’re my sister. So tell me. Talk to me. Whatever it is, I’m here for you. What’s going on?”

She sniffled once and took a long breath, this time opening her mouth, ready to spill her guts. “For the past few—”

And then her phone rang and interrupted her, halting her in the middle of what I knew was going to be an explanation of her outlandish behavior. The phone lit up on the desk, where it was plugged in, and she turned back, glanced down to the screen, and ripped the cord out of the wall. With one angry throw, she thrust the phone across the room, and it crashed against the far wall, cracking the screen before smashing to the floor.

I watched the silent phone lay there on the carpet for a moment, quiet and broken, and then I looked back to my sister.

“I’m guessing you didn’t want to take that call?”

“
Get out
,” she said, angry again. “Leave!”

“Bailey—”

“
Leave
!” she screamed, turning to grab her lamp. And I already knew what was coming next; she was going to yank that cord out of the wall and throw it, and I did
not
want to be on the receiving end of it. So I fled the room, shutting the door quickly behind me. And then there was a loud crash against the door. The lamp, I had absolutely no doubt, was shattered to pieces.

“I’ll be in my room if you change your mind,” I said quietly but at least loud enough so that she could hear me.

I turned down the hallway and into my own room, in time to hear Dad bust through my sister’s door and yell at her for throwing and breaking things.

She fired right back at him, matching his angry tone. She was more determined to get rid of him than she was me because there was another crash. Another bang. Another loud scream.

The arguing continued that way for ten minutes. I couldn’t make out all the words, just that they were yelling. And I imagined, by the time Dad gave up and left her room, there wasn’t much left in there that she hadn’t destroyed.

“All right, let’s get something straight right now,” Dad said, turning into my room. I looked up from my desk, setting my article aside. “You and your sister do
not
make the decisions around here. I do.”

“Yes, I’m aware.”

“And you will
not
walk around making rules for yourself and ignoring my authority.”

“Okay?” I pushed my chair away from the desk and turned to face my father. “Dad, what happened in there? What did she say?”

“You two are getting far too comfortable with these bad attitudes,” he said. “Allow me to remind you that I am your father. You don’t get to talk to me like I’m another one of your friends.”

“Whoa, wait. Hold on. I’m not the one you’re mad at,” I said, finally standing up. “I didn’t do anything.”

“You
do
need my permission to leave this house, in case you’ve forgotten. You require my permission, Amanda.”

“Oh, again with the name-calling!”

“You’re not going on that date,” he said.

“
What
?” My heart caved in on itself. “Wait, no. No, Dad. Why? I thought we were joking around in there. I wasn’t being serious. I know I need your permission, and you gave it to me. You said I could go. I
have
to go!” Dad didn’t fire back; he just stood there, his face as red as Bailey’s was when I ignored her order to stay out of her room. “What am I supposed to tell Gabe?”

“I don’t care. Call him, text him, send a carrier pigeon. I don’t care, but make sure he gets the message. You do
not
get to leave this house on Saturday.”

“But—”

“You heard me.”

“But what did
I
do?”

“My house, my rules.”

“No,” I said. “
No
! Twenty minutes ago you said I could go. You said that!”

“And now I’m saying you can’t,” he said. “You and your sister need to understand one thing—
I’m
in charge. Me. Not you, not Bailey, not anyone else.
I
make the decisions. She’s grounded, and you’re walking a pretty thin line yourself.”

“For what?” I yelled. “I—didn’t—do—anything!”

But it didn’t matter. I could’ve yelled for the rest of the evening, and it wouldn’t have mattered because he left, and I had no one to yell at.

Somehow I’d taken the blame for whatever it was that Bailey had said or done to him. So Bailey’s problem had become my problem, and I was determined to find out
exactly
what that problem was. And based on the way Bailey freaked out at the sight of a simple phone call and Dad’s sudden shift in mood after talking to my sister, I had a pretty good idea exactly what was going on in the Parker household.

And there was a good chance it had everything to do with the one person none of us ever wanted to see or speak to again—Mom.

Chapter Two

I could’ve dwelled on it for the rest of the evening, but there was no point hanging around and fighting a worthless fight. And there was certainly no use in sulking. Dad wouldn’t look at me. He wouldn’t talk to me. And I wasn’t even going to attempt another shot at Bailey.

So I left. Thankfully, I had prior commitments, anyway—promises I’d made long before every person in our house flew off the handle. I gathered up the necessities, filled my shoulder bag, and headed out the door.

Ten minutes later, I was immersed into a world free of family drama. The Sugar Creek soup kitchen was kicking off for the evening, and I was there to cover some Raddick Initiative news for the school paper. And since I’d tried so hard to escape my family, I’d shown up to the church a little too early, leaving me to sit alone on the front steps. Thankfully, though, Fletcher showed up a little early, too, so I had some great company to keep until it was time to go inside.

“Have you heard the band yet?” Fletcher asked, opening the folder I’d given him yesterday. It was full of specifics, broken down into even finer details, about the dance finale for our district’s RI team.

He pointed to the name in the binder. “Is that what they’re called? Extra Bacon?”

“Yup, that’s their name,” I said, snickering at the goofy name that Jones had come up with for their band.

Jones liked to the tell the story that the band name came to him in a vision, a sort of futuristic dream where he saw the four of them on stage, and Extra Bacon
scrolling on marquees all across the country. That was the line, anyway, the story he liked to tell everyone. But I was the only person who knew the truth, and he’d made me promise a long time ago that I’d never tell: the only reason he pitched the idea for Extra Bacon was because he liked the way it sounded as he ordered breakfast at Maurine’s one morning.

“Yes, I’ve heard them. They’re using our garage as practice space. They’re going to put on one heckuva a show; wait till you see it.”

“I look forward to it,” he said, taking a swig from his water bottle. And then there was this brief moment of silence, this second where I knew he was leading into something bigger with all this RI small talk. That moment was followed by a grin, and I leaned forward at the sight of his smile.

“Okay, what?” I asked, trying not to smile myself. Fletcher had one of those contagious attitudes; it was hard not to mirror every subtle expression. He was an all-around happy person, especially right then, and I was eager to know what was on his mind.

“I’m glad you’re here early this evening.” He rubbed the back of his neck as he talked, nervous about whatever it was he was going to say next. “I actually showed up a little sooner than I normally would, hoping I might catch you before I got trapped in the kitchen. I didn’t want to miss you.”

“Yeah, why’s that?” I asked. “You’re not backing out on me, are you? Fletch, I told you. Bailey will help cover all the bases for the dance finale. You can count on her.”

Or at least I hoped he could.
I
was counting on her to hold up all the promises I’d made to him.

“No, it’s not about that,” he said, looking down to the folder. “You actually seem to have covered everything anyway. It’s something else entirely.”

“Okay?”

He took a deep breath and let it go.

“I’m going with my parents on Sunday for an informal tour of DU,” he said, and though he tried to maintain a blank expression, that smile of his kept beaming through.

That’s one of the many things I adored about Fletcher; he couldn’t even think about college without busting into a smile—and not any college, but Desden University. I swore there must’ve been something magical about that place, the way it captivated so many people. I, like Fletcher, had my sights set there, and only there,
because
of that magical feeling. Because I knew it’s where I belonged.

I’d known since the moment I’d first picked up one of their brochures at a college fair. Holding that piece of paper in my hand, staring down at the pictures of the buildings on campus … I felt it. It wasn’t the fact that it was only minutes away from the place I called home. It wasn’t the beautiful scenery or even the highly celebrated sports teams. It was more than that. It was this indescribable feeling. And actually showing up there, walking the campus for that first time with Gabe, it only solidified those perfect feelings I’d had.

“Neither of my parents went to college,” he said, interrupting my DU daydream. “And they’re not very supportive of my decision to go.”

“On the tour?”

“To college. Period.”

“
Why
?”

“They’re skeptical. They’re so uninformed about the whole process, and I get it. It’s hard to get excited about something you don’t understand,” he said. “Dad dropped out of high school his junior year to work with his dad, and then he spent his twenties building his own auto body shop from the ground up, no college courses necessary. He’s a firm believer in hard work, nothing else.”

“Oh.”

“And Mom dedicated her life to raising a family.”

“And that’s perfectly fine. That worked for them,” I said. “But you’re not them.”

“Obviously.”

“They should want this for you, Fletch, if it’s truly what you want.”

“I want you to come with us,” he said quickly. “To tour the campus. I know you’ve been there; you know the lay of the land. I’ve been there three or four times on my own. But I think having someone there who believes in this process, someone who’s even planning to be there at the same time I’ll be there … I think it will make them much more comfortable with everything.”

Why me? He had all of his acting buddies, all of his friends from the drama club. He had a close-knit group of friends he sat with at lunch every day, worked with at his part-time job, and even hung out with inside the RI group. I didn’t understand why he’d ask me of all people.

“Because you’re the only person who understands it,” he said, reading the question play across my face. “No one else wants this as badly as I do. You’re in. You’re going to Desden. And if I have my way, I’ll be one year behind you. Mandy, please?” he asked. “I know you don’t owe it to me. You’ve already given me so much, with everything you’ve done for the RI program. But if you would—”

“Oh, my God, Fletch, I’m not going to make you beg,” I said, laughing. “I’d love to go with you. If you think it will help you help them, then yes. Count me in.”

There was this tiny flicker of relief in his eyes, and his shoulders relaxed. He knew he could count on me, and that’s all he was hoping for.

“Thank you.”

“They’re going to have to understand,” I said, putting my arm around his shoulder. “Your life is taking you out of Sugar Creek. You’re a star, and you belong at DU. And after DU, probably somewhere in Chicago or on Broadway. You’re gonna go places, Fletch. And when you win the RI scholarship and finally get to Desden University, you’re going to be right where you belong. And I hope we can help your parents see that.”

“Yeah,” he said, smiling again. “You know, I don’t think it’s been said enough, but you’re a great friend, Amanda Parker.”

And then I smiled, too. Because for the first time in a very, very long time, hearing someone say my full name didn’t sound too bad.

Fletcher gave it new life.