Breakable (7 page)

Chapter Nine

Doctor's
eyes are narrowed, crinkled in the corners. "Why wouldn't you accept
Mark's help?" he asks carefully.

"Weren’t
you listening? It would have made my problems worse."

He
chews on this for a moment. Then, “Stacy, look at me, please.”

I
turn, braced for combat, but meet his eyes.

He
holds my gaze. “I won’t be manipulated. I want to help you. But if I’m not
convinced that you’re ready to go, if I feel like you’re holding back I
will
keep you here.”

“Holding
back?!” My voice slips up an octave. “Doc, I told you I talk to myself in a
mirror. How is that holding back?”

His
lips purse. “Stacy, you’re relaying this story as if it happened to someone
else. Some of the events you describe would legitimately traumatize an adult.
Some of them skirt the borders of legality. I can’t shake the feeling that your
attachment to your alternate self is actually a coping mechanism for what has
happened to you at the hands of your peers – and worse, the adults who should
have been a positive influences in your life.”

“Oh,
c’mon, Doc. No one sent me home with broken bones. It sucked, the way I was
treated. But I’m only telling you about it because it’s what started the mess
that got me into that…that…”

Doc
quirks an eyebrow. “I appreciate that this is difficult for you, Stacy. But
when I say “open up”, I mean, let me know the shape and manner of your wounds.”

“Oh,
for crying out loud, Doc. I can show you the scars!”

He
shakes his head and I feel like I’m five. “I meant the ones no one else can
see, Stacy.” He doesn’t look away and neither do I, but he’s scaring me and I
think he knows it.

The
mirror is screaming at me. I could think better away from it. On my feet.

I
swallow. “Can I walk?”

He
gives a short nod. “Certainly. Whatever makes you comfortable.”

I
push to my feet, past the big coffee table, past the doily-laden lamps, to the
other side of the room, past the broad, heavy desk, the floor-to-ceiling
bookshelves, and the ugly wallpaper.

I
stop in front of the fake fireplace in the corner. There's a huge picture of
one of those old-fashioned sailing ships with a dozen square sails hung over it
and I've been wondering whether it's real.

A
lot of people don’t understand the difference between a real painting, and a
print. They figure, you get a picture to look at so what’s the big deal? Right?
They don’t understand. Artists don’t just work with color and shape. They work
with texture. With material. With light. You can’t get that from a print of a
painting any more than you understand the taste of rain from a photograph.

Anyone
can fake on two-dimensions.

Either
Doc has taste, or he got lucky. The painting over his fake fireplace is real.

It’s
an oil painting. Realism. A near photographic reproduction. She’s lurching out of
the white-topped, green-grey waves, the clouds behind her deep and ominous.

It's
not my style, but beautifully done. I can feel the wind chasing her. Feel her
deck pressing on the feet of the sailors as it crests the wave. Like the way
you feel when an elevator takes off too fast–

"Stacy?"

I
jump. "Yes? Sorry, what were we...?"

“The
reason you wouldn’t accept Mark’s help.”

Oh.
That.

Sigh.

"I
told you what happened with the girls in eighth grade. And Belinda and Finn.” I
paused, stretch my neck, feel the pull of my scars in the pit of my stomach.
But Doc doesn’t say anything, so I continue. "I got sick of feeling
lonely. And I wanted to impress the girls. I thought maybe they’d take me back
into their circle if I did.

"One
Monday when I knew Finn and Mark had gotten together over the weekend, I told
some girls I had snuck over to Finn's house. I said I slept with Finn – who was
dating Belinda, by this time. I proved it by telling them about a little
birthmark Finn has in a place you can only see when he's naked. He told me and
Mark about it one time when we were playing Truth or Dare.

“Anyway,
Belinda heard my story and asked one of the guys if the birthmark was real –
which it is. Next thing you know the entire school is talking about it. Belinda
broke up with Finn. Told the other girls he was a cheater. Blamed me. To get me
back, Finn told everyone we
didn’t
sleep together because when I showed
up I was all mental and sex-crazed. That I was lying to cover myself. Between
them they turned everyone else against me.

"Once
I realized everyone didn’t think I was cool for sleeping with him, I tried to
apologize and admit it was a lie. But my
proof
was too good. No one
wanted to believe the truth."

Pause.
"Why did you start a rumor that cast yourself in a negative light?"

"Because
I was thirteen and stupid. Back then everyone was kind of in awe of the girls
who slept with guys. I thought they'd think I was grown-up and cool, then the
whole thing would blow over. But they never let it go. Never. I’m pretty sure
they all know I made it up. But it’s more fun for them to pretend it’s true.
Ever since that day I became the slutty freak."

"What
did Mark think of all this?"

I
squirm. "Mark didn't know the real story for a long time. After I
apologized, Finn was civil when it was just me and him and Mark. But once Mark
came to high school, he saw how Finn and I didn't get along."

"What
did he do?"

"I
guess he asked Finn what happened and Finn told him to talk to me. I told Mark
it was just a fight and to forget about it. So he did."

He
frowns harder. "How did that make you feel?"

Oh,
please
. I turn to face Doc so he can see I’m serious. "I felt
relieved that Mark was still my friend since I’d lost everyone else."

"So
the three of you worked out a truce, then?"

Snort.
"I wouldn't go that far."

Monday
morning. I hated Monday mornings. Especially on days when it rained. Walking
the halls meant squeezing through other students – a scenario ripe with
hazards.

Our
school was so old, the lockers still used the old-fashioned bolt locks. They
were combination locks now, but it took time to get the stupid things open.

I
arrived at mine, keeping my head down to avoid notice. I pressed the numbers on
my lock and yanked it open just as the bell rang. I’d just grabbed my folder
for English when someone bumped me from behind.

“Back
off!” I muttered, kept my eyes on my locker. Predators view eye-contact as a
challenge.

“Settle
down, C.”

Finn.
His oily voice made my skin crawl.

I
knew he wouldn’t leave, so turned to scowl at him, gripping the door to my
locker in case the chance arose to slam his fingers in it. “I have class. What
do you want?”

“You
heard about Mark and Karyn?”

I
nodded once, waited to see if there was more.

Finn’s
eyes glittered. “Just making sure.”

“Grow
up, Finn.”

“What,
like you?” He leaned into my face. “Congratulations on that, by the way.”

“On
what?”

“On
growing up.” His hand darted past me, into my locker and came out gripping a
box of tampons I kept for emergencies. I slammed the door too late. He’d
already thrown the box over his shoulder, smiling. All the little packets
spilled out and down in a pattering arc of shame. “Give Stacy a hand everyone,
she’s finally a woman now!” He backed away and pretended to slip on one of
them. “Whoops! She already used that one!”

The
roar of laughter pressed on me, buffeted me like the day in gym everyone threw
the balls at me at the same time. Ignoring the mess, I turned my back on him
and stalked down the hall.

Finn
kept crowing and giving high fives, even as I pushed the exit door open. As
soon as I was out of sight, I ran. No more hallways for me. I was taking the
long way around. Besides, the rain hid the tears on my cheeks.

Word
gets around quick. Several sanitary products landed on my desk, or in my lap
during first period, accompanied by sniggers and hissed taunts. I ignored them.

No
point inviting further humiliation though. I hung around at the end of class,
let everyone else leave first. I could be a couple minutes late to art without
Mrs. Callaghan having fits. And besides, Mark was there. We hadn’t spoken since
the argument Saturday.

So
the halls were almost empty when I rounded the corner into the creative wing,
to be greeted by the sight of Mark and Karyn plastered up against the lockers,
saying goodbye.

I
jerked to a stop, then ducked into a firehose alcove. With luck they’d be done
in a few seconds. After the morning I’d had, I couldn’t quite face Karyn’s
expression if she knew I’d seen them kissing.

Mark
murmured something, then his shoes squeaked on the floor. I gave Karyn another
thirty seconds to leave too, then peeked around the corner to make sure the
coast was clear.

But
Karyn was still at her locker, primping.

Gag.

If
I stepped out, she’d know I’d been hiding. Nothing for it but to wait. She must
have had a study period. Even with Mrs. C. I was facing detention if I didn’t
get into art soon.

Finally,
a door slammed further down the hall. I sighed with relief and stepped out of
the shadow of the alcove – then scrambled back in when I saw Finn sidling up to
Karyn, that oily grin on his face.

“Hey,
beautiful. You got study?”

“Yeah.”
Her locker door banged shut. “Who let you out of your cage?”

“Ouch.
You wound me.”

The
smile in both their voices made me want to revisit my breakfast. I hadn’t even
known they were friends.

When
their voices got lower and more flirtatious, I rolled my eyes. How long until I
hit Mrs. C.’s limit? The art room was only half a hallway from Karyn’s locker.

“…hear
about what happened with C this morning?”

“What
did you do?” Karyn giggled. “Whatever it is, don’t tell Mark. He’s still
talking about helping her.”

Finn
groaned.

Their
voices dropped lower, a gentle hum broken only by sporadic giggles from Karyn.
After a couple minutes of this, my tension ratcheted up. Those two weren’t
worth a detention. I had to get out of here, hope they weren’t watching where I
came from.

I
pulled a book out of my bag and pretended to read it as I stepped around the
corner. And stopped.

“…can’t,
he’s right down the hall!” Karyn hissed.

Finn
had Karyn pinned against the lockers. Her hand lay on his chest, his chin
tipped down level with hers. She pushed him away. But she was smiling.

They
both became aware of me in the same moment.

Karyn
froze. Finn stood straight, ran a hand through his hair. They tried to pretend
nothing happened. Then, at the same time, both their eyes slipped sideways and
landed on me.

A
crackling warmth spread from my chest, flushing out to my fingers and toes. Too
many feelings fought to the surface – anger at Karyn for cheating, pleasure
that I’d caught Finn being the jerk he was, fear about what they might do to
keep me silent.

I
met each of their gazes, working hard to keep my face blank. Then I smiled and
kept walking. Neither of them moved.

Finn’s
rage had him almost vibrating as I passed. He hissed between gritted teeth,
“Stupid b–”

“Right
now I’m pretty sure I’m the most intelligent person in this hallway,” I said.

Finn
made a weird noise and his hand snapped out to grab my elbow. He whirled me
around to face him. 

My
heart pounded against my ribs, but there was a strange calm that came with
knowing I wasn’t in the wrong here. I met Finn’s blazing gaze and snapped at
him, “Let. Me. Go.”

He
didn’t move. For the span of three breaths, we just locked eyes. I felt great.
Sure. Solid. I didn’t care if Finn pummeled me senseless. When I regained
consciousness, I was still going to tell Mark that his girlfriend was cheating
on him with his second-best friend.

But
then corners of Finn’s lips tipped up. His eyes took on that malicious twinkle,
and his fingers loosened on my arm. “Go ahead,” he whispered, giving me a
little shove back towards the art room.

“I
will,” I said.

Finn
smirked. “And no one will believe you.”

“We’ll
see.”

“And
even if they would, I think maybe you wouldn’t tell them because if you do, I’d
have to show Mark this.” Finn pulled something out of his back pocket and
flashed it at me.