All the Broken Pieces (2 page)

3

The morning before school, anxiety crept in along with excitement. She’d had two weeks of practice social runs: nightly walks; a grocery store trip that ended in only a minor hyperventilating spell; dinner at a restaurant; a drive to Jerome for window-shopping. Each trip started with the panicky, I-can’t-do-this feeling. In time, it got easier.

Even after the practice runs, though, she still felt shaky at knowing how to act and what to say. And here she was, minutes away from going into an unfamiliar building filled with people. People her age who weren’t missing all their memories.

What if I don’t fit in? That would be all kinds of tragical.

I
hope
I don’t fit in. Most people are simple-minded followers.

Her stomach clenched.
Oh, joy. I’m already going crazy and I haven’t even gotten to school yet.

She shook her head, trying to clear it of her worries. The voices, fitting in, not fitting in—right now she needed to push it all aside and focus on surviving the day. She’d never make it if she started doubting herself now.

Mom knocked on the open door and stepped into the room, wearing an expression suited for a funeral procession. “You know I’m happy to teach you at home. I just don’t see why—”

“You’re a great teacher, Mom, you really are. But this is about me getting back to a normal life, making friends, having that fresh start you’re always talking about.”

Germs, inadequate teachers, bullies, contact sports, and a slew of other things had been listed as reasons she shouldn’t go. “I just worry about you, especially with your immune system so vulnerable right now.” Mom sat on the foot of the bed. She picked up a notebook and flipped through its blank pages. “Since you insist on going, though, I think it’s best you don’t mention your memory problem. Or even your accident.”

Olivia took the notebook from Mom and slid it into her backpack. “Why?”

“Kids can be so cruel. Even after graduating top of my class in med school, becoming a neurosurgeon for the Mayo Clinic, and running my own Huntington’s trial, I can still remember the hurtful comments they made over the years.” Mom grabbed Olivia’s hand. “I don’t want you to get made fun of. And if you don’t like public school, let me know, and I’ll go back to teaching you at home.”

She nodded, thinking over Mom’s suggestion. “So how do I explain that I don’t know certain things? Like anything involving my past?”

“Give vague answers. And if you get cornered, call me, okay?” Tears formed in Mom’s eyes. She stood and threw her arms around her. “I’m not ready to let you go. I’ve hardly had any time with you.”

“You’ve had sixteen years with me.”

Mom’s suffocating grip tightened. “It doesn’t seem like that long. You know I love you, right?”

Olivia patted Mom’s back. “I know, Mom. I love you, too. But I’ll be fine.” She was telling herself as much as she was Mom. “I’m prepared for this.”

“I worry you haven’t had sufficient time to recover from your accident.”

Mom seemed like she knew everything. But in this instance, Olivia desperately hoped she was wrong.

…

The drive to school seemed slow and fast all at the same time.

A flag hung on a pole at the entrance, and red railing lined the steps to the red doors. Even the letters painted on the building were red. The color was everywhere, and for some reason it made her entire body grow cold and clammy.

Students ascended the stairs, a steady stream entering the building.

That’s a lot of people to deal with
, she thought, her panic going into hyperdrive.

Hopefully there are some cute guys in there somewhere.

Who cares about guys? What if I can’t keep up in classes?

A cute guy will make that more bearable.

Dad patted her knee. “You’re going to do great.”

Olivia turned toward him. “Maybe Mom was right. Maybe I should wait until next semester. We’ll do more test runs and—”

“You’re registered, you’ve got everything you need, and you’re a strong, smart girl. I have complete faith in you. Now, do you want me to walk you in, or will that be too embarrassing?”

Don’t do it. It’s social suicide.

But I don’t want to go alone.

Dad reached for his door handle.

“I got it. I’m going.” She took in a deep breath and blew it back out. “Mom will be here to pick me up after school?”

“In just a few short hours.”

She didn’t think they’d be short, but at least it was something. Eyes fixed on the red double doors, she exited the car, slung her backpack over her shoulder, and headed for her first day of high school. For her first day of school ever. Her stomach clenched and her nerves were bouncing all over the place. Still, somewhere in that mess of emotions was a spark of excitement.

As people walked by, she recoiled, flinching whenever anyone got close.

Finally, she reached the doors and stepped inside. Fluorescent squares of light illuminated the hall, and red lockers lined the right side. The buzz of simultaneous conversations filled the air. This wasn’t like the practice runs. It was louder and more cramped and…

As her breath quickened, she started to get light-headed. Everything blurred together. Too much stuff everywhere. Way too many people. Sweat broke out across her forehead, and she tried to remember why she’d thought this was a good idea.

Okay. Deep breath. I can do this.

She forced her feet to start moving again. To her left stood a group of girls with flawless skin and hair, laughing and talking.
I’m guessing that’s the popular crowd.

Two other girls glared at the clique. “Bunch of followers,” the one dressed in head-to-toe black said. It looked like she’d used an entire tube of eyeliner that morning.

“Look at Sabrina’s skirt,” the other added. “It barely covers her butt.”

“She’s undoing all the progress feminists have made.”

The girl in the center of the popular group—Sabrina, apparently—turned back and glowered at the two girls.
Pretty
would be an understatement. She had shiny chestnut hair, tan skin, and large blue eyes.

“Why don’t you losers take a picture? It’ll last longer,” Sabrina said, leaning closer to the girl in black. “Jealous much?”

“I’d be jealous if my goal in life was to be a vapid trophy wife someday.”

Watching them exchange verbal jabs was all too familiar.
That’s like what goes on in my head on a daily basis.
Between the perky voice, the anti-conformist voice, and her own thoughts, it sometimes felt like being three people.
Don’t think about that right now. Focus on acting normal. Blending in.

As if to spite her, the higher-pitched voice in her head whispered,
Making friends.

The other quickly came back with,
Becoming independent.

Olivia closed her eyes and took a couple deep breaths. When she opened them, both Sabrina and the two other girls were looking at her. Not wanting to get dragged into the mess, she hurried past them.

Studying the numbers on the lockers, she walked along the hall until she got to 207.

“You must be new,” someone to her left said.

Olivia glanced around, checking to see if the person was talking to her. A blond girl was looking directly at her, eyebrows raised. “Um, yeah,” she said. “I moved here over the summer.”

“I’m Keira.”

“Olivia.”

“So do you always go by Olivia, or do you sometimes go by Liv? I’ve been obsessed with the name Liv forever. That’s what I named my Barbie, my cat. I even asked my parents if I could change my name to it. I just love Liv. But if you don’t like it, then I won’t call you it. I’m just saying I know that’s what I’d go by if my name were Olivia.”

She stared for a moment, overwhelmed by how many words the girl had just thrown at her so quickly and trying to figure out how to respond. Finally, she simply shrugged. “Whatever’s fine. You can call me Liv if you want to.”

“Cool. Well, I’m going to go catch up with some of my friends. We’ve been talking about our first day of junior year for-like-ever, and I’m dying to see what’s new. If you need any help, though, just let me know.” She grinned, showing off her blindingly white teeth, then bounded down the hall.

See, it’s not so bad. That Keira girl was nice. And I kind of like Liv, actually. Fresh start and all, maybe I’ll try it out. It sounds...almost right.

A tall, lanky guy walked up to a petite girl a couple lockers down, wrapping his arms around her and leaning in for a kiss. Olivia’s insides twisted, a combination of longing and embarrassment over watching the intimate gesture. There was something else, too—a pang in her chest that felt almost like…missing someone.

She jerked her attention to her backpack and focused on transferring her supplies from her backpack to her locker.

That smell. Musty, metal.

She knew she’d never been to public school, but the smell was so familiar. She stuck her head inside the locker and inhaled.

A sharp pain shot through her head, forcing her to raise her hands and squeeze her temples. The smell triggered…something…but she couldn’t catch hold of what. That prickling sense of wrongness swept across her skin, giving her goose bumps. It was almost becoming as familiar as the voices.

“What’s up, man?” a male voice said. A body bounced against the locker next to her, and she jumped. The guy laughed, shouldered his bag, and punched the arm of the guy who’d pushed him.

Relax. It’s just typical high school boys being stupid
, she thought, rolling her eyes.
Nothing to get scared over.

Then she tensed, because how would she know what typical high school boys were like? She shook her head, her pulse still skipping a little from the near heart attack. Trying not to think about all the people or how many of them might bounce off lockers when she least expected it, she took her class schedule out of her back pocket and unfolded it.
First class: English Composition with Mrs. Tully, Room 121.

Mentally checking off all she’d need, she grabbed her binder, slid a pen and pencil into the front pocket, and tucked it under her arm. She made her way down the hall, toward the stairs. Lots of people looked her way; she stared straight ahead, avoiding eye contact as much as possible. It was easier if she didn’t have to figure out if she should smile or how she should respond if they said anything to her.

Near the bottom of the staircase, her arm spasmed and her binder slipped from her grasp. It hit the landing and popped open, sending papers everywhere. For a moment, all she could do was stare. The first few days she’d been awake, her arm had spasmed a lot—like it had a life of its own. It hadn’t acted up in a while, but apparently it thought today would be the day to remind her how messed-up she still was.

Great. My first day of school and I get to start it like a total spaz.

Ew. You’ve got a great vocabulary somewhere. Why’d you choose the word
spaz
?

People tromped across the sheets of paper, scattering them even farther. Olivia sighed, walked down the last two steps, then knelt and started picking them up.

Other hands joined hers. She looked up from her messy stack of papers, but all she could see was shaggy brown hair until he sat back and shook the strands out of his face. Square black frames covered his brown eyes. They were totally geek chic.

Geek chic?
Sometimes these totally bizarre words or phrases just popped into her head.

He held out the pile he’d gathered. “Here you go.”

Her heart picked up speed as she stared into his eyes. She couldn’t remember how many cute guys she’d encountered before, but the one looking back at her was the cutest she remembered seeing, and she was sure that would be true with or without her missing memories.

He waved the papers. “Do you want them or not?”

She shook herself from her he’s-so-cute trance and took the papers from him. “Thanks. Everything just kinda spilled. I don’t know if I would’ve been able to get it all without your help.”

“Yeah, well, the people here aren’t the most helpful bunch.” His gaze ran over her, and it seemed more critical than approving. “I’m sure you’ll be fine, though.”

Tilting her head, she studied him. “What do you mean by that?”

“Yep, you’ll fit in just fine.” He stood, readjusted his bag, and headed upstairs without even a nod good-bye.

…

I made it to lunch. I guess that’s something.

Olivia had tried to lie low, but small town and all, everyone else already seemed to know one another, making it harder to sneak by unnoticed. And even harder to know where to sit. She stood near the end of the lunch line, holding her tray, unsure which direction to go.

“Popular table’s over there,” a voice said.

Glasses Guy jerked his head toward a table to the right. A handful of girls—the one made up of Sabrina and her friends, along with Keira—was there. So were several guys who looked like they’d be grouped into the jock category.

She looked back at him. “Where do you sit?”

“Not there.” He walked past her, sat at a table in the corner, and put in earphones.

I wonder what his deal is.

“Liv! Over here! I’ll introduce you to everyone.” Keira waved her over.

After considering her options and realizing she didn’t really have any, she slowly made her way to what Glasses Guy had called the “popular table.”

“Everybody, this is Liv. She just moved here from…” Keira looked at her. “I’m sorry, but if you told me, I don’t remember.”

“Minnesota.”

“Minnesota. Anyway, her locker’s next to mine.”

Heat crawled up Olivia’s neck and into her cheeks, and she pulled her hair forward to make sure her scar was hidden.
Okay. You can all stop staring now.

“That’s Sabrina.” Keira pointed to her, then to the girls next to her. “And that’s Candace and Taylor.”