All the Broken Pieces (24 page)

Headlights cut through the black. They were coming at her. Coming fast.

She slammed on the brakes. Instead of slowing, she sped up. Dropping her head, she threw her arms in front of her.

…

When Liv woke up, her hair was matted to her forehead and neck. Her breath came out in ragged bursts. She inhaled deeply, trying to calm her racing heart. That had been the most vivid, realistic dream yet.

The ones where she was blond always left her feeling awful. At first because she wasn’t a good person; now because of how hard her life was.

Her life or my life?

Feeling like her head was about to explode, she pressed her fingers to her temples.

How am I supposed to know what’s real and what’s just a dream?

She remembered the dream where the girl’s mom had slapped her. Just the memory made her cheek burn.

But the woman who’d slapped her hadn’t looked anything like Mom, and Mom would never slap her. So that meant it couldn’t have been a memory.

Looking different, dreaming about people who didn’t exist—it was all so confusing. She wanted to believe Mom was right about her brain making the images up to keep functioning. It didn’t explain how deeply she missed Elizabeth, or knowing the cheer she was supposed to do in her dream, or a dozen other questions she had. But no other explanations made any sense, either.

She had never wanted to know and not know something so badly.

35

Liv used her spoon to push her cereal around the bowl. It had been in the milk so long, it was now mush. Every time she’d lifted her spoon to take a bite, though, she ended up putting it back down without eating. She pictured that box in the office over and over, wondering if it held all the answers. Wondering if she’d open it and find nothing and be back at the beginning again.

Dad came into the kitchen, newspaper tucked under his arm.

“Good morning.” Mom kissed Dad on the cheek, then came over with a pitcher, glasses, and Liv’s pillbox. Mom set the pills in front of Liv, then picked up the pitcher and started pouring it. The juice came out in thick chunks.

Liv wrinkled her nose as Mom pushed a glass her way. “What is that?”

“Good for you,” Mom said.

“That means gross.”

“It’s a fruit and vegetable smoothie, and since you had ice cream for dinner last night, I expect you to drink it.” Mom placed a glass in front of Dad and one in front of herself, then sat in her usual chair.

Dad opened his paper and handed the crossword section to Mom, who immediately started working on it, and Liv took a drink of her juice—which wasn’t great, but not as bad as she thought it would be. Sun streamed through the window as they sat, eating their breakfast like a happy, all-American family.

Lies. Lies. Lies.

Still, she sat, playing her part. Biding her time. Feeling like she was slowly going insane.

Mom frowned, then leaned down and felt Liv’s forehead, something she hadn’t done in weeks. “Are you feeling okay? You look flushed.”

Liv stared into Mom eyes, like she might be able to pull out the truth if she looked hard enough. Being home today might make it easier to dig for clues, but it’d also mean being around Mom and not Spencer. “I’m fine.”

It was just a dream. Just a dream.

She kept hoping that repeating it over and over would make it true.

But it didn’t.

She pushed away from the table and rushed upstairs. Once she was inside her bedroom, she called Spencer. “Do you know how to pick a lock?”

The line was so quiet, she checked to see if the call disconnected. Her phone said it hadn’t. “Spencer?”

“Why do you need to pick a lock?”

“I might not if you know a way to figure out the combination. But I need your help. Can you come over? Like, now?”

“I’ll be right there.”

…

As soon as Spencer showed up, Liv told Mom they needed to print off something for their math assignment and dragged him upstairs. She closed the office door and locked it.

Spencer put his hands on her shoulders. “What’s going on?”

Silence stretched between them as she tried to figure out how much she wanted to tell him. Spencer was the one good thing in her life. They’d only been officially going out for four days, and it’d already been filled with plenty of ups and downs. But she had to know what Mom and Dad were hiding, and she needed help.

“You can tell me anything,” he said.

“It’s just, sometimes lies look so much like the truth. And when you can’t tell between the two, how do you know which one will make you happy? Maybe the lie will make you happier. And if you’re happier with the lie, would you really want to know the truth?”

His eyebrows lowered as he studied her. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about, but I know telling you the truth made me feel better and more miserable at the same time.”

She took a deep breath and blew it out. “I think my parents lied to me about the car wreck. I don’t think I hit a tree; I think I hit another car.”

“But why would they keep that from you?”

Liv looked into those brown eyes of his. “That’s what I’m afraid to find out.”

For a moment, neither of them said anything. Then Spencer exhaled. “What makes you think you hit another car?”

“Well, when I was driving yesterday and I had that flashback thing or whatever it was, I saw headlights coming at me. I swear it was a memory, but according to my parents I wrecked into a tree. Then there’s the fact they act weird any time I bring up the accident.”

“And if someone else was involved, but your parents don’t want you to know, that must mean…”

An icy knot formed in her chest. “It means the other person probably didn’t make it.” Saying it aloud made her feel even worse. “You think that’s it?”

“I don’t know. If they lied…” He squeezed her hand. “I’m sure your parents are only trying to protect you. If I could forget that night with Peter…” The regret that crossed his face said the rest.

Spencer’s tormented expression was enough to make her think twice about how much she wanted to know about her accident. As with Spencer, what was done was done. Opening up the past would just hurt everyone, and obviously she had enough issues to overcome as it was.

It was a nice idea, ignoring everything she’d uncovered. But then she thought of the box at the bottom of the drawer, of how she could no longer look Mom or Dad in the eye without feeling so much bitterness she thought it would choke her. Of how everything inside her was screaming that she needed to find the truth or she’d never fully be able to move on with her life.

“I have to know what really happened.” She pulled open the drawer and tugged out the box. Spencer pulled a screwdriver out of his pocket. “This was my plan, but I don’t think…” He jabbed it into the lock, but it didn’t turn. He tried to wedge the screwdriver under the lid. Nothing. He took a paper clip out of the top drawer of the desk, straightened it, and inserted it into the lock. After a minute or so, he grumbled and tossed it aside. “I know you think I’m some kind of criminal, but I don’t normally do things like this.”

“I don’t think you’re a criminal. I just didn’t know who else to call.”

“Well, don’t I feel special.” He slid the screwdriver back in his pocket. “Have you tried to guess the combination?”

“Since there’re ten thousand possibilities, no.”

“Right, but people use numbers they can remember. Like birthdays.”

The clock on the wall above their heads ticked loudly, like it was taunting them with the fact that they were running out of time. The buttons beeped out as she entered Dad’s birthday. Then Mom’s. Then her own. “Nothing.”

“Maybe an anniversary,” Spencer said.

“I don’t know—” Liv remembered the photo album. She took it off the bookshelf and flipped it to the page with Mom and Dad’s wedding photos. There was a wedding announcement taped next to the pictures.

Holding her breath, she hovered her finger over the numbers.
Nine
.
Two.
It didn’t make any noise, so she looked to Spencer. “I don’t know the year, and I need two more digits.”

He leaned over her. “You’ve got to add a zero in front of the month and day.” He pressed zero, nine, zero, two.

The top clicked, similar to the sound of a door unlocking.

Spencer hooked his fingers around her hip as she reached for the box with shaky hands. She opened the lid and stared inside.

Spencer’s grip tightened. “Holy shit.”

36

All Liv could do for a moment was stare. Inside were stacks of hundred-dollar bills. The stacks had a thick paper band around them that said $10,000.
One, two, three, four. Forty grand.

In addition to the money, there was paperwork with foreign bank accounts and three passports. The picture in her passport showed her face still puffy, with dark circles under her eyes.

“Why would they have all this?” she asked.

“Maybe they’re planning a trip?” From Spencer’s tone, she could tell he didn’t actually believe it.

She took out the map inside. Someone had highlighted routes from Cottonwood to three different places in Mexico. “And this?”

“Maybe a trip to Mexico?”

Liv tilted her head and looked at him. Then she returned her attention to the box. “This is in case something bad happens.” Thoughts swirled around her head in a jumbled mess. Her dream; the theory that if someone else was in the wreck, they must not have made it. A sick feeling settled in her gut. “I think I was drunk the night of the wreck. Every time I remember it, it’s fuzzy. Not like my other memories, but like I wasn’t in control. Like
I
was what was fuzzy.”

Her heart dropped. “What if I killed someone?”

“You didn’t.” Spencer put his hands on her waist.

She hugged him, wanting it to be true. But even if he was right about that, all her instincts were screaming that something horrible had gone down that night. “My parents have an Escape to Mexico Plan. That doesn’t exactly scream
innocent
.”

“There must be some explanation. Your parents are so not the criminal type.”

No, they weren’t. Which meant something huge had motivated them to prepare like they had.

How far had her parents gone to cover up whatever happened? How far were they willing to go to make sure the truth stayed buried?

“Olivia?” Mom called. It sounded like she was nearing the top of the stairs.

“Almost finished!” The map wouldn’t fold right, the crinkling sounding way too loud. Heart slamming against her chest, Liv finally got it folded flat, locked the box, and shoved it back in the drawer. She grabbed the photo album off the desk, planning on putting it back, but a voice whispered,
Take it.

With no time to question why, she shoved it in her bag. The zipper took some convincing, but she finally got it closed. She looked at Spencer, holding his gaze for a beat, then they left the office.

Mom was at the top of the stairs. “You two are going to be late to school if you don’t hurry.”

“We’re going right now.” Liv grabbed Spencer’s hand and held it tight, glad he’d been with her when she’d found that box. Now they just had to figure out what it all meant.

…

School dragged, and by lunch, she felt like she’d been there for at least eight hours. She got her food and almost bumped into Sabrina.

“Liv,” Sabrina said, offering a tight smile. It wasn’t exactly friendly but it wasn’t exactly mean, either. The nice thing was how little she cared. It was such a light, freeing feeling to not base her life on someone else’s opinion of her.

Liv nodded. “Sabrina.”

She started to move past her, but Sabrina said, “Wait. Look, maybe you really are as nice as everyone thinks. Keira told me I’ve been a total bitch to you, and maybe she’s a little bit right.”

Liv raised her eyebrows, biting back a
Maybe?
and also thinking,
Go, Keira!

“We both made mistakes.” Sabrina glanced at Spencer, and a hint of sadness broke through her stony expression, so quickly it was gone before it fully caught hold. But it was enough for her to know Sabrina was talking more about her and Spencer’s relationship than hers with Liv. Apparently there were actual feelings buried underneath that pretty exterior.

Sabrina gripped her tray tighter and looked over at Keira—who was standing a couple paces away, pretending not to watch what was going down—then back at Liv. “So I’m sorry or whatever.”

“And I’m sorry or whatever that the back of your shirt got bleached in science lab,” Liv said. “It was an accident, I swear, and I’ll pay for a new shirt if you want me to.”

Sabrina’s nostrils flared, and she was sure the mean girl would come right back. But then the anger seeped out and Sabrina gave a half shrug. “Guess that makes us about even.”

“Guess so.”

And even though she no longer cared what Sabrina thought, it felt like in that moment, a truce formed between them. A real one this time. She smiled at Keira, who had a triumphant grin on her face, then walked across the room.

Spencer watched her as she settled across from him, then covered her hand with his. “How you holding up?”

She shrugged. “I can’t stop thinking about it. I’m so mad at my mom and dad right now, and yet…I miss them. If that makes sense.”

“I get it. In all the madness this morning, I didn’t get a chance to tell you that I called my dad last night.”

“Oh? So how’d it go?”

He tipped his head one way, then the other. “Better than usual. We’ll never have the same kind of relationship we used to, but we’re going to try to have one again. It’s pretty much all your fault, too.”

She smiled at him. “That’s great, Spencer. I’m so proud.”

“That’s not all I did last night, either. It took more hours of practice than I care to admit, but I think…” He pulled out a pencil and balanced it on the table. He smacked the end. It flipped in the air and he caught it. “Impressed?”

Liv remembered her dream, how she and that Huan guy had been playing the same game. Then she thought back to being in the Chinese restaurant with Spencer, and how she’d automatically known how to flip and catch those chopsticks. Which meant at least some elements of her dreams involving the blond girl were true.

She groaned and dropped her head in her hands.

“Not the reaction I was hoping for,” Spencer said.

“I’m sorry. It’s very impressive, really. It just made me realize my theory has too many holes.”

“Which theory?”

She bit her lip. “You wouldn’t believe me, even if I could find a way to explain it. And that’s a big if.”

“So first you give me a pity compliment, then you insult my intelligence.” He put a hand on his chest. “Ouch, baby, ouch.”

Liv couldn’t help smiling. She nodded at Spencer’s pencil. “You want to have a competition? We’ll see how many flips and catches in a row we can do.”

He tilted his head and raised an eyebrow. “You think I can be distracted that easily?”

“I was hoping.” When his expression showed he wasn’t letting it go, she added, “The other thing will have to wait until after school.”

He handed over the pencil. “Okay, let’s see what you got.”

After she beat Spencer—his four in a row to her six—they got up to go.

Clay was leaving the cafeteria at the same time and they did that stutter, you-go, no-you thing. Spencer pulled Liv into the hall. Then his muscles tensed, he stopped, and he turned to face Clay.

“Hey, man, I’m…I’m sorry things went down the way they did.”

Clay’s eyebrows shot up, the surprise on his face clear. He looked from Spencer to her, then back at Spencer. He lifted a hand and rubbed it along his jaw. “I’m sorry I left. I should’ve had your back.” For a moment, they stood there, then he gave one sharp nod. “See you guys around.”

She watched him walk away, then turned to Spencer. “That’s it? You guys are good now?”

“Well, we’re dudes. We’re not going to have some hug-fest.” He drew her to him. “Now you and me, on the other hand…”

She sank into the hug, dropping her head on his chest and holding him tight. This day was going freakishly well as far as school and friends went. It probably would’ve seemed like more of a win if the huge weight of that morning wasn’t still hanging over her head.

…

While waiting for Spencer, Liv sat on her usual bench and looked through the photo album. With her just-a-dream theory in shambles, she needed a new one. One that involved Mom and Dad having passports, money, and a map to Mexico all ready to go.

No answers came as she studied the photos.
This is useless.

She was so engrossed in trying to figure it all out, that when Spencer walked up and said, “Hey,” she jumped.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” He sat next to her.

“I’ve looked through my parents’ photo album, but I’m not finding what I’m looking for.”

“What are you looking for?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, that explains why you can’t find it.”

She shot him a look she hoped conveyed she didn’t find him funny.

He took her hand in his. “Can’t you just talk to your parents? Tell them what you remembered and ask them for the truth.”

“I’ve tried. They’ll just take advantage of the fact that I can’t remember anything and lie. Ever since I woke up from that coma, it’s been one lie after another.” She twisted to face him. “Sometimes I’m not…I’m not me. Except I am…” She shook her head. “I’m not explaining it very well.” Her chest squeezed and she had to blink to keep the tears from coming. “It’s like I’ve got all these pieces, but none of them fit together. The more I try to make them, the more broken I feel.”

Spencer cupped her cheek, looking at her as though she might shatter right before his eyes. Part of her felt like it wasn’t entirely impossible. “Liv…” Instead of saying anything more, he lowered his lips to hers. The kiss took on an urgent edge, from her or from him, she wasn’t quite sure. “Let’s get out of here.”

She still needed to know the truth about her past—she couldn’t go back now. But she could see the desperation in his eyes, a mix of fear and need. The same fear and need that echoed within her. So before doing something that had the potential to ruin everything, she could spend a few hours with her boyfriend, pretending her life wasn’t so screwed up. She let him pull her to her feet and took a moment to soak in the feel of his hand against hers, the way he smelled like warm sunshine, and the way his hair curled around his ears and the top of his glasses.

The way that being with him had made her feel whole in a way nothing else had.

…

Spencer pulled up to a beige rancher with a red door and rock-and-gravel landscaping. “Good. No lights are on.”

“Why?” Liv asked. “Are we breaking in?”

“Yeah, I figured that’s something else we ought to check off the list.” He looked at her, fighting to keep his expression serious, then a smile broke free. “This is my dad’s place. He told me I could use his pool whenever.”

When Spencer had mentioned going swimming, she told him she didn’t want to be around a bunch of people. Then he’d said he knew a place they’d be alone. He claimed that swimming was the best thing for blocking out the rest of the world—said it in a way she could tell he’d used it many times before. She’d run out of excuses, anyway, so she’d finally, albeit reluctantly, agreed.

They got out of the car and walked up to the front door. Spencer knocked, and when there was no answer, he reached into the planter and grabbed a key. He led her through the house and outside to the pool.

He took off his glasses and set them on a table, then pulled off his T-shirt and tossed it on one of the nearby lounge chairs.

And suddenly the little bit of courage she’d managed to build up on the drive over disappeared. Her throat went dry, her heart hammered against her rib cage, and her rapid pulse throbbed through her head. “I don’t think I can do this.”

He stepped closer, put his hand on the side of her neck, and ran his thumb along her jaw. “We’ll start in the shallow end, and even the deepest part doesn’t go over five feet. I’ll be right beside you the whole time.”

“It’s not that…Well, it is. But it’s not
just
that.” The point had been to forget about her problems for a little while, but she thought about the scar on her chest, and the kid with the Frisbee telling her how disgusting it looked, and she couldn’t bear it if Spencer looked at her the same way.

His eyebrows drew together. “What is it, then?”

A couple months back, she wouldn’t have even considered it. But now the scar had faded to light pink, and she wanted to feel strong; she wanted to shake off her insecurities. Unfortunately, it was easier to want than to actually do.

Just get it over with.
Taking a deep breath, she peeled off the shirt covering her navy bikini top. Then, feeling immediately self-conscious, she put a hand over her scar.

Spencer grabbed her hand and lifted it off. “That’s what you’re worried about?”

“It looks gross.”

He leaned down and kissed the raised line on her chest, then moved his lips up to the scar on her neck. “Obviously I haven’t done a very good job of expressing how beautiful I think you are.”

A lump formed in her throat and she blinked back tears.

His fingers traced the top of her scar. “It makes me think how lucky you are to be alive.”

Liv wrapped her arms around his waist, kissed him, then rested her head on his bare chest. She could hear his heart beating out a steady rhythm, and she did feel lucky to be alive. The stress she’d felt moments ago melted away. She stepped back and smiled up at him. “Now that the hard part’s over, I guess it’s time to try swimming.”

…

Liv wrapped her hair in a towel and squeezed out as much moisture as she could. Swimming with Spencer had been just the pick-me-up she needed. Opening herself like that had made her feel stronger, like she could face anything now.

Looking into the mirror on the bathroom wall, she could see the change, too. The girl reflected back at her was finally familiar. In need of a good hair-combing, but familiar. She brushed her hair out, gathered all her belongings, and went to stuff them in her bag. The photo album was still in there, taking up most of the room. She didn’t want it to get wet, so she pulled it out and stuck it on the edge of the sink.

Spencer knocked. “You ready yet?”

“Yeah. I’m just gathering all my stuff.” Liv unlocked the door and swung it open. Spencer’s hair was damp and his glasses were back on. A grin spread across his face as he stepped into the bathroom.