How to Heal a Broken Heart (2 page)

The topic of conversation? Really? I am? “I am??”

Megan nods. “Oh yes, the other guests bring it up almost every week. Just the other day Barbie was saying how you’ve, um, let yourself go.” She looks me up and down as she says it.

I look down at my pajamas and sigh. Even my little sister knows I’m not looking my best these days. I can’t help it. It’s like some days I over eat and other days I can’t eat at all. I feel like I haven’t been out of my room for days and when my mom or dad come in here I just pretend to be busy looking at colleges or something until they go away. I sigh and roll over. “Leave me be.”

“Okay. Well I just need you to sign the release papers so I don’t get sued later on,” she tells me, waving them around in my face.

“Sued?” I ask her.

She nods. “My lawyer says it’s best to cover all my bases. I can have him call you if you prefer before we move forward.”

I groan and grab the envelope out of her hand, anything to make her leave me alone. I’m just about to look for a pen when I realize what she’s having me sign. It’s a yellow envelope addressed to my parents and the return address is from my school.

“Where did you get this?”

Megan shrugs. “Doug gave it to me.”

Doug? Who the hell is Doug? “Who’s Doug?” I ask her, trying to stay calm.

“The mailman.”

“You’re on a first name basis with our mailman?” I ask her still looking at the yellow envelope in my hand.

Megan nods. “I invited him for tea but he’s very busy with his career today.” She looks me up and down. “Some of us have been up and, you know,
working
for a while now.”

She says “we” like she’s been up herself working for hours.

I roll my eyes. “Megan, go away. I’m keeping this.” I shove the letter from my school under my pillow before she knows what’s happening.

A shocked expression comes over her face “Hey! You give that back!

STEALING MAIL IS A FEDERAL OFFENSE!”

Shit. If she doesn’t be quiet my mom’s going to come in here asking questions.

Think fast, think fast. Got it.

I narrow my eyes at her. “Are you wearing make up?”

She stops and stares at me for a minute. “Well, you should probably look them over anyway just so you’re sure, gotta go!” She bolts out of my room slamming the door behind her.

I wait a few seconds then grab the envelope from under my pillow and rip it open.

The words are like a slap in the face.

Three out of five classes failed. Summer school necessary to proceed to senior year. In the sum of six hundred dollars.

Shit. Shit. Shit. How could this have happened? How? I mean, yeah, I was a little preoccupied with Rich and I knew my grades were slipping a little bit but three classes failed? I failed three classes? How is that even possible? This has got to be a mistake. But a feeling of dread comes over me because I know that it’s not, I know deep down it was way worse than I would admit to myself. Rich broke up to me right before final exams and I didn’t think about them let alone open a book to study for them.

My parents are going to kill me. I’m so screwed. My dad is all about college. The only reason he let me date Rich is because I would swear up and down I was keeping my grades up. He is going to go off the wall when he finds out about this. And if I know my dad at all once he does find out he is going to make me pay for summer school myself, which means he will find out my savings is gone. Completely gone.

I’m so screwed. I’ve been lying to everyone, and it’s all about to come crashing down around me.

Unless. I mean, unless I could somehow come up with the money by myself.

Unless I could somehow get away with this without them finding out. I could somehow get through summer school without them even knowing. The thought is giving me anxiety and I feel like my heart might explode in my chest. And for the first time in weeks, I get up, get in the shower and start to put together a plan of action. Not because I want to, but because I know I have to.

Is forging someone’s name against the law? I didn’t think this was such a big deal at home but now standing outside the main office at school I’m beginning to have major second thoughts. I mean, I know kids sign their parents’ names all the time when they get bad grades and stuff, but still .I feel like summer school is way different than just a stupid bad grade on a test or something. School has been out for a few weeks now so the halls are completely empty, but somehow I still feel like people are watching me.

I’ve never done anything like this before and while I thought I could pull it off, looking at the secretary sitting in the main office now, I’m not so sure. I’m really nervous and everyone knows someone who is nervous isn’t exactly good at keeping their composure under pressure. Plus they work in this building all year long, they can probably see right through kids who are trying to get away with things.

I’m just about to turn and walk out when I feel a hand on my shoulder and I jump, dropping the forms in my hand all over the floor of the hallway.

“Jeez. What’s wrong with you?” The voice belongs to Chelsea Mathews.

Chelsea’s in my grade and I’ve had a few classes with her over the years and while she’s always been nice to me I wouldn’t exactly call us friends. That’s because Chelsea’s, well to be honest, she’s way to popular to really be my friend.

My school has pretty much three main groups. The really popular group, the semi popular group right below them, and everyone else. While Chelsea isn’t in the really popular group she is one of the most popular in the semi popular group. She attends a lot of the parties that most of the really popular people have and is really close with a select few and the only reason she isn’t completely in with them is because she’s way too nice.

When I say way too nice, I mean nice to everyone. She is friends with absolutely anyone and everyone. One time in seventh grade she had this huge birthday party and invited literally everyone she was friends with. It was probably the only time outside of school that so many different groups of people were together in one place.

“I’m sorry.” I scoop down to pick up the papers on the ground. “You scared me!”

“Yeah, I could tell.” She smoothes down her white jacket and looks down at me with worried eyes. “Are you okay?”

“Totally. I’m totally fine.”

Seeing her again reminds me how beautiful she is. She has this long hair that’s normally a dark red but she’s dyed it this really light shade of blonde that makes her look exotic and beautiful. She’s naturally tan with a few freckles sprawled across her nose.

Her eyes are this intense green and I would kill for my teeth to be that white. She’s wearing black shorts, a black tank top that shimmers in the light and a white leather jacket with white heels. I could never ever pull off an outfit like that.

If it was anyone else I would feel totally embarrassed in my jean shorts and gray t-shirt but I know Chelsea would never judge me, she’s not like that at all.

“You don’t really look it.” She tells me. “You look kind of panicked.”

And maybe its that she’s noticed something isn’t right, maybe it’s the way she’s looking at me like she might actually be concerned about me, or maybe it’s that I haven’t talked to anyone about how sad I’ve been since the break up, or maybe it’s that I know I have no one to talk to because I have given up everyone and everything for him. Or honestly, maybe it’s just because I know I’m in way over my head with everything, but right there in the middle of the hallway I start to cry. And not just crying a little either. I mean full on sobbing. Crying so hard I feel like I cant’ breathe.

Chelsea looks shocked for a second, like she can’t quite understand what she just walked into, but she recovers quickly. “What’s wrong?”

And so I tell her. I tell her everything. I tell her how I have a broken heart, I tell her how none of my friends will call me back because I ditched them for a boy. I tell her how I’ve been lying to everyone and how I’m holding a forged summer school paper with absolutely no way to pay for my classes. And when I’m done, she just stares at me.

I’ve just told all my deepest darkest secrets to one of the most popular girls in school and I can’t even think straight.

The secretary who must have heard me sobbing and crying like a crazy person has come out in the hallway to see what’s going on. “Everything okay out here?” she asks, but she’s looking at Chelsea, not me. Chelsea’s mom is a teacher here so almost everyone knows her, and loves her, of course.

Chelsea looks at me for a second before she speaks. She shakes her head. “No, no, everything is not okay, Susan.” Great, she’s on a first name basis with the secretary. And I know it’s over. I know the jig is up. They will call my parents and my life will be over.

Maybe, just maybe they will only ground me for half of my senior year and not the whole thing. I’m about to tell Susan before Chelsea can to save at least some face when Chelsea reaches over and grabs the summer school papers out of my hand.

“My friend Stephanie’s parents are getting divorced!” she exclaims shaking her head sadly back and forth.

What? What is she talking about? They are not! Was she even listening to me when I was going on my crazy rant? I mean, I said a lot of sad horrible things but nothing about my parents getting divorced. Geez, you would think someone would pay attention while I’m having a nervous breakdown.

“Oh no!” Susan says, looking at me with pity in her eyes. “You poor thing. My sister is going through the same thing right now. It’s so tough on the children.”

I shake my head, confused, but before I can say anything Chelsea’s talking again.

“But I bet your sister is at least worried about the children! Poor Steph’s parents are too busy to even care about her! I mean look at this!” she says, waving the papers in her hands around. “They just sent her down here with the paperwork for summer school like it was nothing! I mean it’s no wonder her grades were slipping with everything going on at home.”

Susan shakes her head. “In so many of these situations the poor children just get overlooked. Now come right in, honey, I’ll take care of you.” She puts her arm around me and pulls me after her. “No need to be embarrassed.”

“Well of course she’s embarrassed!” Chelsea’s following us into the office as she talks. “I mean, she even has to pay for it herself, Susan! Can you imagine?”

And I know what she’s doing. She’s lying for me, she’s helping me. Chelsea Mathews is here in the office helping me lie my way into summer school.

“So young, so young to have to deal with such burdens.” Susan’s rubbing my shoulder. “How do you do it?”

It takes me a second to realize she’s talking to me. “Well...I just…I try to take it day to day.”

Susan sighs and looks at Chelsea with a look that says “this poor child.” Chelsea nods then says, “So clearly she will need to be set up with the payment plan.”

“Of course!” Susan says.

Fifteen minutes later I’m enrolled in two summer school classes. (You’re allowed to fail one class and pass for the year so I only have to re-take two of the three classes I failed. Yay for small victories!) I’m also set up with a payment plan. It’s broken up into monthly payments of two hundred dollars for the next three months.

When we walk out of the main office a few minutes later I don’t know how to begin to thank Chelsea, but before I can even say something, she’s walking out the main doors. She stops before the door can slam behind her and turns to look at me.

“Come on,” she says. ‘”We’re going to get you a job.” And then she lets the door slam shut behind her before she has a chance to see the shocked expression that comes across my face.

I’m sitting in a bowling ally right now. No. I’m not kidding. After I ran to catch up with Chelsea outside of school she instructed me to get in my car and follow her car. I almost refused, but she had pretty much just saved my ass, so how could I really walk away from her now?

So I did what she said -- I followed her, and ten minutes later we ended up in front of a bowling ally, or should I say “Lucky Strike.” The building itself doesn’t look very impressive from the outside. Its red paint is chipping off the building in every which way, and it looks like it could use a nice landscaping job. But once you get inside it’s completely different.

The floors are so clean they sparkle, there’s a full arcade, really nice wooden lanes, and a snack bar that looks like it has a full menu. Surprisingly, it’s actually pretty busy for the middle of the day during the week. Like five lanes are occupied.

“Wow. It’s pretty busy huh?” I say to Chelsea.

She laughs. “Oh, this isn’t busy.”

I’m about to ask her what she means when someone throws a pair of bowling shoes at me. Literally there are bowling shoes flying at me from across the counter and right at me. I duck my head out of the way but they keep coming. Chelsea rolls her eyes then swings her whole body gracefully up on the counter.

“Chuck, are you trying to knock me out again?”

I hear his laugh before I see his face. It’s loud and jolly and when he emerges from below the counter I realize it’s exactly the kind of laugh id expect to come from him. He’s a heavy et guy with thinning brown hair, warm eyes, and a smile so big I fear it might eat the rest of his face.

“One time,” he says, looking at me like we’re old friends, “I came in really early and started to sort through all the shoes. I had no idea Chelsea was standing right in front of the counter. So I just kept throwing shoes out there and knocked her right over. She had a huge red mark on the side of her face for the rest of the day. I mean, it really wasn’t funny, except it was, ya know?”

He’s laughing as he tells me and suddenly I find myself laughing along with him.

Chelsea scowls. “Yeah, real funny, laugh it up, guys.”

Chuck shakes his head. “It’s not my fault these damn kids who work at night don’t know how to put things back where they go. How hard is it to sort shoes at the end of the night?”

“Well ask for help and you shall receive!” Chelsea says. “Stephanie here needs a job!”