Broken (13 page)

“Bradley, sophomore and junior year. We don't speak anymore. He pretends he doesn't know me, and I do the same. He said he loved me,” she texted. Did he try a comeback?”

“I guess you haven't seen his new girlfriend,” she texted.

“Who?”

“Henrietta,” she texted.

“Is she in our gym class?” I figured there were like 60 girls in our gym class. If she was a senior, she had to be around.

“Our history class, fifth row, third seat. She's really pretty!” Cece texted. Was all we had of value on our face?

“Almost every girl in school is pretty, including you. Is she nice?” I texted.

“I see you haven't talked to her.”

“Forget her. Maybe you can get him back,” I texted.

“I bet he wishes I would ask for him back. I don't think so!”

“You still love him, don't you?” I asked.

“He doesn't love me.”

“I don't think love can go away just like that. At least, I hope not,” I texted.

“Near a connection, lovey?” Winter texted.

“4G,” I texted. Did Winter finally have what I needed?

“Best not to use your own phone to download. Go to
hottottiesouthbeach.com
,” Winter texted. Winter had changed so much since junior high. She used to be quiet and innocent. When I told her last year I was still a virgin, she was slightly appalled. She squinted her eyes when I told her I wanted to wait until I was in love.

“I didn't believe they made girls like you anymore. But it's good to know the dream still exists in someone's heart,” she said to me. Ever since her father left her mother, she was different. We used to say we wanted to get married at 21 and live right
next door to each other and do everything together. Now she had a new boyfriend every three months and had started two new schools since junior year.

“Username: pastel, password: wclarke,” Winter texted.

“Got it. Are the details on there, crazy?” I texted.

“Tell no one and delete once you're done. Milan, make sure you do not use your own computer!” Winter texted.

“Will do. Xoxo, M,” I texted.

I had an idea of what I might do. Daddy had brought Dimitri an iPhone. Of course, he had cracked the face and asked for a new one. I thought Daddy just threw the old one out, but one day Edna pulled me into Daddy's office. “You see this drawer here,” she signed.

“Yes,” I signed.

“I put broken phone in case of emergency. You can text or email for help,” she signed.

“Okay,” I signed.

“I told your father I keep for emergency. He want to buy new one. Why waste? I tell you, I no tell your brother. He might not like,” she signed. That was only a few months ago.

“Why can't I use my own computer?” I texted Winter.

“Once you read, you will know,” Winter texted. This was all a little weird, but Winter—she was the kind of girl who could take on Cara, so I trusted her.

Once the meeting was over, we took the car downtown to grab something to eat. We walked into this greasy pizza joint on Sixth Avenue, a couple of blocks down from 8th Street. “The pizza here is the best in the city!” Cece said.

“You looking for an endorsement deal?” I said. Cece smiled. She recommended we come downtown to get away from the usual spots. When I got out of the car, I almost gasped at the sight of Melissa.

“Hey, Milan, what are you doing down here?” Melissa gave me double kisses, but not before looking Cece up and down.

“Hi! You know Cece, don't you? We're just grabbing a slice.”

“Nice. I'm sure you need the grease and fat,” she winked at Cece.

“That's not civil. But we won't stay. And who's this?” I asked. Real classy. No intro to her blonde, ambitious-looking friend.

“This is Betty. She's from Claremont in Connecticut. They're off this week, so we're doing it up.”

“Nice to meet you. This is Cece.” She shook both of our hands.

“Milan, right?”

“Right.”

“You look prettier than the pictures.”

“That's always a compliment. Have fun, girls,” I said and walked into the pizza spot. Cece followed with a dreadful look on her face.

“Henrietta's bestie. That is why she's so mean. Hanging out with me won't help if you want to stay on their friend list,” Cece said.

“Like I care!” I said.

“You want cheese?”

“Yes, two slices,” I said. I grabbed a $20 out my bag.

“No, I have it.”

“Jamba on the way home?” I asked.

“Cool.”

“My treat,” I said.

“You're on.”

I grabbed us two seats in the back. I couldn't help but wonder what the heck was on that Web page. I wondered if Winter had bought that page just to send me the info. She had some trust issues. I wouldn't put it past her. I saw Cece heading over to the table. I went to get us some napkins.

“I didn't know what you wanted to drink, so I brought us water.”

“Perfect! You know, after seeing Melissa and how rude she was, I'm thinking you have to do something about this. You can't just let them win.”

“Yeah, right. This is not by choice.”

“Why don't you try to get him back?” I asked.

“I don't think I can.”

“Once love, always love,” I said.

“Not when he has a gorgeous girlfriend!”

“Well, what happened between you guys? Why did you break up?” I asked.

Cece stuffed her mouth with pizza. She took like three bites, back to back. I slowly chewed my one bite and waited. She looked down at the palms of her hands as if there were some answers there. “I never really told anyone exactly why. It's completely
embarrassing,” she said. I knew she wasn't going to tell me unless I put something out on the table.

“I feel like I'm still in love with my first boyfriend. His mother was my mother's best friend. She died when I was like 11. Then he came to live with us. I thought my father liked him like a son, yet somehow something really loathsome must have happened and my father and my brother won't say. About a year after my mom died, my father sent him away to boarding school. I used to go visit him. Then, one day, my father found out. He forbade me from going back. He said if I went again he would send me to boarding school in Europe. So I never went back—at least, not for a long, long time.” I felt like I had just unloaded the world's largest backpack of rocks. Secrets were a nasty business.

I didn't know how to tell her I tried to see him again and that I found him kissing another girl.

“My father had something to do with this too,” she said. “He found out I had been with Bradley. Then he told me no one would buy the cow if they found out the milk was free. He said I had to stop seeing him immediately and I wasn't to do “it” again unless I was married, otherwise he would disown me. But not after slapping me across my face in front of my mother. She cursed him for doing it. He yelled at her. He was screaming, ‘All this free thinking is why I left you.' Later, she told me I have to wait until I'm college age. Not because my father said so, but because it would be better for me. She said I could see Bradley if I wanted to as long as I followed that rule. By then, Bradley wouldn't take my phone calls. Unbelievably, my father also made me call Bradley while I was in front of him and tell Bradley I could never see him again. Then he got on the phone and told him never to call me again.”

“Oh, my. When is the last time you talked to him?” I asked.

“You have to promise never to tell anyone about this.”

“I promise, but you have to promise never to tell anyone my story,” I said.

“Sierra and Frenchy don't know?”

“Sierra knows some of it. Frenchy, I haven't really told her,” I said.

“Your secret is safe with me.”

It was right then that I started to feel guilty. If Sierra found out that Cece knew more about the Noel story than she did, she was going to kill me. One day, I would tell her the whole backstory. She knew most of it. Plus, Cece didn't know I tried to see him again. Once you started with secrets, it was hard to stop.

“Why don't you call Bradley?” I said. Cece hesitated for a moment. Suddenly she started to look gravely ill.

“The last time we spoke, he told me he never wanted to talk to me again,” she said.

“He didn't mean it.”

“Milan, he hates me,” she said.

“Once in love, always in love.”

“When he's with Henrietta, he acts like I don't exist. He just passes me by in the hallway without so much as a glance. But last week, my friend said he was checking me out at lunch while I was online at the sushi bar,” she said.

“Call him.”

Cece clutched her phone for dear life. She stared at it mysteriously. Was this what love was about? Going after it, fighting to get it back, protecting it from being taken away. A little part of me was like: yes! I saw her dialing a number. She stood up and turned away from me. She paced back and forth. I couldn't see exactly what she was saying. I did notice her tugging at her shirt collar furiously. “Okay,” she sat back down.

“What did he say?”

“I left a message,” she said.

“What did you say?” She looked at me as if to say,
you know
. “I was trying not to listen.”

“I told him that I missed him and that what happened was really stupid, and I was sorry because I loved him. You don't think that was dumb, do you?”

“No, it was really awesome. That is so gutsy. You're like my hero.” I wondered if I would've had the guts to even put that in a text or something. “You have to meet up with him. See if you can borrow your mom's car and just drop by his house when you know he'll be there.” I paused for a moment, wondering where that idea came from.

“Well, he always goes straight home after practice,” she said.

“Is he on a team?” I almost didn't ask. It made me seem out of the loop. But I didn't have time to figure out who was on lacrosse or basketball or football or fencing or hockey. The list just went on and on.

“He's the center on the basketball team.”

“Oh, just the center,” I laughed. “It's like one of the most important players. Why don't you invite him to a basketball game?”

“Oh, my god, Milan. Two weeks ago, I was convinced he wouldn't even go around the block with me. Now I called him. Then you want me to ask him out on a date. Have I lost my mind?! He has a girlfriend.”

“I'm not saying he should cheat on his girlfriend. If it's love they have going, then you have to move on. But if he still loves you, then you two should be together,” I said.

“I don't know. I don't even know if he's going to call me back.”

“We'll see. I'm a betting girl. And my dollars are on you,” I said.

“Good thing we're not talking about real money.”

I woke up just as the sun kissed the sky the next morning. As soon as I got home last night, I saw Cara's boots by the door. I wouldn't dare go for the iPhone then. Later, when I went to get dinner, there she was, helping herself to a large piece of the free-range organic chicken Edna made especially for me. How did I know that? She left me a note on my dresser to get the rosemary chicken she made for me out of the refrigerator, complete with yams and haricot beans. I would've been happier about sharing if it wasn't with Cara.

I slid down the hallway in my bedroom slippers, hoping to be as stealthy as possible—one corridor down, another half corridor to the office. I was nervous. I could feel the sweat on my palms. I was sort of disgusted with myself for being so ridiculous. Winter had me all tripped out. Or maybe I was shuttling the blame.

When I got into the office, all the shades were drawn. It was pitch black inside the room. I kept the door cracked so I could get some of the light shining through the windows in the front foyer. I lunged forward toward the desk, only to nick my pinky toe on the foot of the chair that my dad had placed in the most awkward position possible. Out came my cell, my second source of light. I was hoping to text Winter once I swiped the details. I opened the top drawer. I angled my cell phone to light the way and searched for the phone with my other hand. I found myself sorting through paper clips, staples, notepads, stress balls—my Dad needed like 100 more of those. I didn't see the phone yet! Maybe Edna meant the bottom drawer, I wondered. I sifted through the stuff in the bottom drawer. Bundles of disks, a hard drive, file folders, no phone! This couldn't be right!

I looked through the top drawer again. I noticed a bulky leather personal calendar. I picked it up. A couple of the pages were dog-eared. I opened one. The entire page was blank except for the words “dinner” at the wee bottom. So I turned to another page and it was the same. I turned to the last dog-eared page. It was dated August 17 of next year. A Saturday. Two bells were drawn on the page.

Odd—my father was no doodler. I looked at Daddy's desk calendar. He had golf dates, fly fishing, and company events marked down on that calendar. I was feeling a little odd, but I couldn't stop myself from looking. I flipped to the last page of his desk calendar. It didn't even go as far as August of next year. If he knew I was doing this, he'd be completely outraged. I found myself glancing at the door every few seconds. There
were no clues in that darn desk calendar. I was trying to mentally dismiss those bells. That doodle just didn't feel right.

I put the leather calendar back in the drawer. I stretched my arm as far back as I could. That's when I felt it. I picked up the busted iPhone. Once, then twice. Three times I pressed the On button. Geez, Louise! Was the battery dead too? I shook my head, realizing nothing about this was going to be easy. Luckily, when I reached back in the drawer out came a charger. I felt my shoulders drop in relief.

I checked the time on my cell phone. It was 6:22 a.m. Daddy was already up watching CNBC in his room. Dimitri wouldn't be up for another four hours, at least. I quickly made my way back to my room. Once inside, I plugged in the iPhone. I set my phone on the dresser. I hadn't noticed it was blinking. “What's up? Didn't hear much yesterday?” Sierra had texted me at 6:30. What's with the crack-of-dawn text?