Broken (21 page)

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
sunk 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 ok. 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 ok. 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 perfect 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 perfect. 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 mouth 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 perfect,
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
ok once I've touched them up, but this brochure is proving tougher
than expected. Can we talk after dinner?"

By now I really should be 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
gig's 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 about 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 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 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 Worthingfield's and the
Graves'. Both of which had at least one member of the family my
age, one of which 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 that'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 actually sure that anyone had even mentioned
whether or not they were around. They must be though, if it had
been a male that'd saved us, then it couldn't be the Graves', and
that left only Brandon's family.