All the Broken Pieces (8 page)

13

Spencer unlocked the passenger door of the rusted, used-to-be-blue car, then leaned in and tossed the papers littering the front seat into the back. He straightened and gestured her inside. “You can throw your bag anywhere.”

Liv got in and placed her backpack at her feet.

The other door opened with a creak. Spencer climbed in and turned the key. The engine chugged a few times before firing up.

“Are you sure the car’s fixed?” Liv asked.

“Hey, don’t diss Rusty. Not all of us can afford nice, fancy cars.”

She pointed at herself. “Is that a jab at me? Because I don’t have a car. I can’t even drive.”

“What exactly
can
you do?” Spencer asked, putting his car in gear and easing out of the lot.

“Right now, I’m just happy to be spending time away from the house. Not that my parents are hard to get along with. It’s just…it’s nice to do something different.”

Spencer’s eyes flicked from the road to her. “I know what you mean.”

A couple minutes later, they were standing in the lobby of McDonald’s, the scent of food filling the air. Liv studied the glowing red and yellow menu. “So, what do you suggest?”

“Normally, I’d say go Quarter Pounder or Big Mac, but since you didn’t come here as a kid, you gotta have the whole experience and get a Happy Meal. But you should probably order a double cheeseburger on the side, too, or you’ll still be hungry.” Spencer stepped up to the counter. “Just leave it to me.”

“For a boy or girl?” the cashier asked when Spencer ordered the Happy Meal.

“Girl.”

“Wait,” she said, her feminist side protesting. “What’s the difference? Girls shouldn’t get treated differently from boys.”

The cashier sighed and scratched the back of his head. “Cars or ponies.” He pointed at the poster behind him. It showed a variety of cars on one side, a collection of multicolored ponies on the other.

Spencer glanced over his shoulder at her. “Are you saying that even though you’re a girl, you want the car?”

Liv saw the cute little ponies with their big eyes. “Actually,” she said with a sigh, “I kind of want a pony.”

Spencer shook his head, but he was smiling. He finished his order, refused when she offered to pay for hers, then handed her a cup for soda.

She looked over the options on the drink dispenser, wondering how much Mom had been exaggerating the effects of sugar and caffeine.

“You’ve had soda, right?” Spencer asked.

“I have to be careful what I eat.”

“Long story?”

“Exactly.”

Spencer got Coke, so she did, too. A couple minutes later, their food was up, and they went into the playland to eat.

Fries were awesome. Soda was awesome. Junk food—the stuff Mom called empty calories—might’ve been empty, but it was deliciously empty.

“Okay, you were right,” Liv said as she finished off her food. “This is good.”

“I know my fast food.”

“But I feel kind of gross now.”

“That’s normal. Running through the playland makes you forget about that, though.” He tilted his head toward the maze of plastic tubes. “Ready?”

“I don’t think we’re supposed to go in there. It’s for little kids.”

Spencer grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet. “We’re on a mission to make up for what you’ve been missing out on. We’re lucky, too. There aren’t any little kids in there right now.”

They kicked off their shoes and entered the small yellow circle.

Stuffy, ketchup-and-sweat-smelling air hit her. “It smells wretched in here.”

“Who says wretched?”

“I do. And you’d be wretched if you made fun of it.”

He glanced over his shoulder, a smile on his face. “Just follow me.”

Liv crawled into the tubes after him. It was hot and she felt trapped, but she took a deep breath and powered through.

“This way,” Spencer said, going into a blue tube.

The light glowed through the space, tinting everything the same color as the plastic. As they entered the red section, Spencer’s clothes and skin took on a reddish hue. The hard plastic was unforgiving on her knees, and she still felt a little claustrophobic, but excitement shot through her stomach, taking over her other emotions. They reached a clear bubble overlooking the eating area.

“Oops. I didn’t mean to bring us to the wave-at-your-mommy bubble. It’s been a while since I’ve been in here.”

“Where exactly are we going?” Her legs were burning from being crouched over.

“The slide, of course.” On hands and knees, Spencer crawled past her, back the way they came.

“Of course. How silly of me to question our quest.”

Spencer’s laugh echoed through the red plastic tube. Hearing him laugh was worth the burning muscles, the stale ketchup smell, and the panicky feeling that she might be trapped in the playland forever.

They crawled across the mesh netting and reached a landing where she could almost stand.

“We made it to the slide.” He waved his arm toward the circle. “Ladies first.”

In order not to bang her head, she had to slip into the slide without sitting. A couple seconds later, the ride was over, but getting out was a struggle. She had to hook her feet over the bottom and pull herself through.

Spencer exited a moment later. “That seemed a lot bigger when I was a kid.”

“Well, that makes sense. You were smaller, so it felt bigger.” She raised an eyebrow. “I thought you were good at math.”

“And I thought you were a nice, quiet girl.”

As soon as they got back to the table, Liv took the sanitizer out of her bag and put it on her hands. Spencer was staring, so she held it up to him. “Want some?”

“That’s such a mom move, disinfecting your hands.”

“When we crawled past the ball pit I saw part of a hamburger in there.” Thinking about the germ-filled breeding ground made her shudder. “I have to be careful about germs.”

“Okay, time for your long story. It’s basically impossible to avoid everything you have unless you’ve been locked in a basement all your life.”

He’ll think you’re a total weirdo if you tell him.

And he’ll think the same thing if you act all sketchy about it.

Liv took a deep breath, wondering if she was really about to do this. Mom had advised against it—had said to give vague answers—but the vague answers weren’t getting her anywhere. He’d asked straight out, and she didn’t see anything wrong with giving him a straight answer. About the wreck, anyway. No way she’d tell him she was currently arguing with herself.

“It’s not that I’ve never done these things before. I just don’t remember doing them.” She glanced at the playland. “Although, knowing my parents, I probably never have eaten here.”

Spencer rested his forearms on the table, bringing him closer. “You don’t remember?”

“I was in a car wreck earlier this year. I had heart and brain surgery and was in a coma for a while. All my memories from before the wreck are gone.”

Eyebrows raised, he stared at her. “You’re not joking, are you? That would be a pretty messed-up joke.”

She shook her head. “Not a joke. I need to keep my heart rate from going too high or too low, which is why I have to be careful about what I eat, and also why my parents gave me a thirty-minute lecture on how bad it would be for me to mix my meds with alcohol. The meds suppress my immune system, thus the need for hand sanitizer.”

“Wow. That’s…”

“Frustrating. Confusing. A thousand other things.”

“I was going to say crazy.” He lowered his eyebrows. “No memories of your past? At all?”

“Sometimes I know things even though I don’t remember learning them. It’s why I like math. It makes sense. It’s all there. When I’m solving equations, I feel in control. But when
people are talking about movie stars, or pop culture, or, say…”
She threw her hand in the air. “Riding bikes, for instance, it’s just blank. It’s really frustrating and it makes me feel stupid.”

“Why didn’t you just tell me that when I was giving you a hard time about it?”

“My mom’s afraid of what people will say or how they’ll act when they find out.” She gazed into his big brown eyes, terrified he’d never look at her the same way again. “I probably shouldn’t have told you.”

A solemn expression overtook his features. “It’s weird how one moment can change everything. Forever.”

A group of kids ran into the room, their excited cries piercing the air. Their moms—she assumed they were their moms, anyway—came in behind them, trays filled with food. Yelling and laughing, the kids charged for the playland.

Spencer piled the trash from their meal onto the tray. The carefree, playful guy from earlier was gone. “Ready to go?”

Liv grabbed her pink pony off the table and nodded. Panic welled up as she followed him out. Sharing her secret had seemed like a good idea, but now she wanted to take it back.

I shouldn’t have told him. Mom was right that people would be weird about it.

And of course she was right. Not remembering anything about your life is freaky. Add in the two clashing personalities, and…

Her heart sank.
I don’t stand a chance of ever having a close friend, someone I can actually share everything with.

Without another word, they walked across the parking lot and got into the car. Liv’s phone beeped as Spencer merged with traffic. Thinking Mom was sending her a message, she dug it out of her pocket. The text was from Keira.

What happened? Sabrina just said you didn’t want to come to The Gulch.

She’d forgotten all about the party. Though it irritated her that Sabrina made it sound like she had decided to back out, when she’d been the one to un-invite her. Because of Spencer. Who was quiet and distant now.

Liv typed out a response.

Sorry, couldn’t make it. See you Monday.

She sent the text, then pocketed her phone.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

Spencer looked at her, seeming surprised to find her there. “I wasn’t thinking. I just started driving home.”

“I freaked you out, huh?”

“No.”

“Liar. You were talking nonstop until I told you about my accident.”

He took a deep breath, then blew it out. “It’s not you, I swear. I started thinking about something else.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“So we’re back to this.” Liv crossed her arms, so frustrated she wasn’t sure if she should scream or burst into tears. “Just take me home. You’ll need to flip around and go back the other way.”

Spencer turned onto a side street, made a U-turn, and headed back down the main road. “Just tell me where to go.”

“Down this street, left on Oasis.”

Spencer turned up the music instead of attempting a conversation.

Earlier, things had been so light and fun; now tension filled the air, and Spencer didn’t even seem to care. She’d expected him to say something. Anything.

The longer the silence stretched between them, the more her chest ached, and the more she wished she could rewind time and take back her confession.

He took the left, and they drove past the familiar houses. She pointed at the four-bedroom house that had recently become home. Lately, though, it didn’t even feel like home, just another place she didn’t quite belong. “It’s the one on the end.”

Liv bent over and picked her backpack off the floor. Frustrated or not—and she
was
extremely frustrated—she decided she should at least thank him for taking her out. Her mom had taught her manners.

“Thanks for dinner.” She pulled the handle, opening the door.

“Wait,” Spencer said.

Liv turned back, relieved he wanted to smooth things over.

“Don’t forget your pony.” He picked it up from the seat and held it out to her. The pink toy looked tiny in his hand.

As soon as she took it from him, his gaze returned to the windshield. The urge to slam the door was strong, but she managed to swing it closed with normal force. She tucked the pony into her pocket, walked up the sidewalk, and stepped inside her house. Through the frosted-glass window, she watched Spencer drive away, sure she’d screwed up everything that could have been.

14

The girl next to Liv passed her the brown sack. “Hurry, the game’s about to start.”

The girl—Courtney—was wearing a cheerleading uniform. The same uniform Liv also had on.

Green’s so not my color.

The hem of her skirt was flipped up and she smoothed it back down with her free hand. She was wearing the silver charm bracelet with the engraved heart hanging from it. Her acrylic nails were painted in a pale pink, with a jeweled flower on the thumb.

“Either drink or pass it back,” Courtney said. Her dark hair was gathered into a high ponytail; green and black ribbons cascaded down, mixing with the curls.

Looking into the brown sack, Liv saw the thick, clear bottle. “What is it?”

Courtney took the bag out of her hands. “That’s it. You’re cut off. You better remember the cheers when we get out there. I’m not going down because you can’t remember something as simple as ‘Go, fight, win.’”

Cheers? I don’t know any cheers.

Another uniformed girl stuck her head around the corner. “Mrs. Willis is coming! Put it away and let’s go!”

Courtney spun around and shoved the sack into a locker. “Let’s go cheer on our team.”

Liv reluctantly followed her. As she passed a big glass trophy case, she did a double take. Leaning in, she stared at her reflection. Thick blond hair was gathered into a high ponytail, colored ribbons wrapped around it. Her face was round, her lips done up in bubblegum pink.

That’s not how I look.

And yet…

“Come on!” Courtney yelled.

Liv turned away from the trophy case and started down the hall. Walking in a straight line wasn’t working, no matter how hard she tried. The walls kept coming closer.

Courtney clamped onto her arm. “You’re such a lightweight. Pull it together. You know if we get caught again, your mom will ground you for life.”

“I don’t care what my mom says.” The words came from her mouth, as if they were second nature. She sensed more coming, not even knowing what they’d be. “She can’t tell me how to live my life when hers is such a mess.”

“Save the speech for after the game when she says you can’t go to the party with Jace.” Courtney dragged Liv toward the open doors of the gym. “Just be cool.”

“But…”

Courtney pulled her into the gym. People filled the bleachers, guys in uniform ran onto the shiny wood floor. Liv and Courtney lined up on the sidelines with the rest of the cheerleaders.

The girl front and center turned back and shot her a dirty look. “It’s about time.” She returned her attention to the floor and clapped her hands together. “Ready…?”

All the other girls straightened, getting ready for…she had no idea. Panic clutched her chest. She didn’t know what she was supposed to do next.

“Okay!”

…

Liv jerked up, the dream fading away as she looked around her room. Her heart hammered against her rib cage, and it took a couple deep breaths before she finally stopped gasping for air.

Like the dreams involving Elizabeth, this one was more vivid than usual. As sad as she felt when those dreams ended, she’d take them any time if drunken cheerleader was the other option.

It didn’t even look like me.

But it felt so real.

She thought about the dream where she’d been studying math. The bracelet, nails, hair… It was the same girl, she was sure of it.
But what does it mean?

Sunlight glowed around the blinds in the window, and she smelled the faint scent of bacon and something sweet.
Mom must be cooking breakfast.

The pink pony on the side table caught her eye, and last night came rushing back to her. The playland. The awkward ride home. Spencer had said it wasn’t her, and she wanted to believe that. It did seem like he was a million miles away there at the end.

Just forget about him. He’s obviously got issues.

Says the girl with no memory and voices in her head.

As she got out of bed, she felt the familiar pounding of an oncoming headache.

…

Without the commotion of school, the voices had a lot of time to talk to her, pulling her thoughts all over the place.
I should get new clothes; I should burn the frilly clothes I have. I should figure out how I’m going to fix things with Sabrina; I wish Sabrina would choke on her own giant ego.

Back and forth, all day, until she was physically and mentally exhausted. Since Mom and Dad would either overreact or lie, that left her to figure it out on her own.

So when she was sure Mom and Dad were busy downstairs, she slipped into the office and closed the door. She stared at her distorted reflection in the computer screen for a moment, not sure she was ready for what it might tell her, while at the same time sure she couldn’t put it off any longer.

Finally she clicked onto the Internet and pulled up Google. Her fingers trembled as she typed in:
hearing voices

She glanced over her shoulder, double-checking that she’d closed the door.

Better lock it.
Liv turned the lock as slowly and quietly as possible, then moved back to the computer. Her stomach was a knot of jangled nerves as she scanned the results.

The top items were on schizophrenia symptoms.
Great. Just great.
It was what she’d been afraid of, and a big part of why she’d put it off for so long. But as she scanned down, there were words under the titles that gave her hope.

People who hear voices in their heads don’t always need psychiatric help. Sometimes the voices within can guide you in everyday life.

Well, that doesn’t sound so bad. Even though my voices are more about shouting and bickering than guiding.
She clicked on that link. It talked about how the voices were usually a result of trauma. Obviously wrecking your car and nearly dying was traumatic, so big check on that one. It even said the greater the trauma, the more likely the voices will sound threatening.

After scanning through that article, she clicked back to her original search and moved to the second result on the page.

Hearing voices is a common symptom of severe mental illness, although many people with no other symptoms also hear voices.

Liv glanced at the door again, listening for any sounds that might mean Mom or Dad were coming upstairs, then read through the article. One of the subheadings was Practical Advice for People Who Hear Voices.

Perfect
, she thought.
That’s exactly what I need right now.

She frowned as she read the “practical advice.” It suggested talking to other voice hearers.
Oh, sure, guess I’ll go up to people and ask, do you hear voices? No? Never mind then, and of course I don’t, either.

One article on schizophrenia said there was often a connection between creativity and mental illness. She didn’t feel very creative, though maybe she should see if she could pick up a paintbrush and create an amazing painting, or…
What else do creative people do? If I don’t know, does it mean I’m not one?

Judging by the outfit you put on today, you’re not creative at all.

I suppose you call sticking a flower in your hair on par with a Da Vinci painting?

More like Monet—he was much more into painting flowers. And you think
you’re
the smart one?

“Could you two shush now?” Liv hissed. “I’m trying to convince myself I’m not crazy, and it’d be much easier if I wasn’t arguing with myself.”

She read through a few more articles, until she had more information than she knew what to do with swirling through her head. From what she could find, the possibilities were schizophrenia and bipolar disorder. Their symptoms included hallucinations, which she didn’t have, unless she counted the dreams. But they were only extremely vivid dreams, right? Borderline hallucinations, at most.

Okay, so as long as the voices stay in my head and the dreams are only during the night, I can deal with this. I’m not the only one.

After staring at the screen for a moment, she moved the cursor to close the window, but then she had an idea. What would she find if she looked up her parents? She went back to the home page and clicked inside the search bar.

Each beat of her heart was faster and harder than the one before. The thought of doing the search made her stomach clench. Still, she hovered her fingers over the keyboard, wondering if she should start with Mom or Dad.

She jumped when her phone rang. She dug it out of her pocket, desperate to quiet it before Mom and Dad came upstairs and caught her.

“The party was so lame,” Keira said when she answered. “All the same people were there, and I was totally bored. I wish you would’ve come.”

She didn’t know why Keira had decided to like her, but she was glad all the same. “It’s not like my being there would’ve made it more exciting,” she said as she cleared the Internet history and shut down the computer.

“Adding a new element always makes it more exciting. Clay was disappointed you didn’t go, by the way.”

Warmth tingled through her chest and she could feel the goofy smile on her lips. “He said that?”

“
Hello
, he didn’t have to. I could just tell. So, what have you been doing today? My Saturday was
so
boring.”

Liv walked to her room as she relayed the day’s events to Keira—skipping her Google search—then sat on the bed and listened to Keira go on and on about Samuel, a guy in her literature class. They chatted for about an hour, until even Keira ran out of things to say.

After she hung up the phone, she got into her pajamas, planning on turning in early. She and Dad had teamed up to convince Mom to go hike one of the Mingus Mountain trails tomorrow morning. According to several of Dad’s colleagues, there was a killer view once you got to the top.

Wondering what shoes would be the best for hiking, she opened her closet doors.

It’s going to be nice to do something new.
A rush of excitement ran through her and she clapped.

“Go. Fight. Win.” As she said the words, her arm came up in a square in front of her, raised in a fist, then thrust in the air.

She repeated the cheer again. Then did it faster.

Goose bumps broke out across her skin, and the hairs on her neck stood on end. “Now that’s just weird.”