If I Break THE COMPLETE SERIES Bundle (143 page)

The worst habits I couldn’t break her of are the drinking and bringing home random guys who make her feel pretty. Only Evie would pick up guys who didn’t have their own houses, or better yet, guys who shared their houses with the women they went home to and the children who weren’t bastards.

I used to try to pinpoint when my mom became a whore. It’s harsh but completely true. The reason we’re on the poor side of town, why I had to move from next door to my best friend, is she couldn’t keep her legs shut and opened them for my stepdad’s younger brother. I don’t know which is worse: slut or prostitute. Some would say prostitute, but at least they get paid. My mom gets nothing most of the time—at least nothing that’s worth it.

My stomach growls, reminding me to pick up some food today. She’s been out almost every night after work, and I’ve been eating at the Barrow, a little coffee and pastry shop in town. I’ve been working there as a waitress for five months. I see Chris’s mom’s car still parked on their lot, so I haven’t missed a ride to school. I glance at my watch and see that I’m twenty minutes ahead of schedule. Maybe I’ve made it in time to get some leftovers from the breakfast Chris’s mom makes every single morning. She’s like Martha Stewart and Rachael Ray tied into one. I go around the back and knock on the door, a habit I’ve had since when we lived across from them. Gwen greets me with a warm smile.

“Hi, Lisa. Happy Monday,” she says cheerfully as she welcomes me into the kitchen.

I smell bacon and potatoes lingering in the kitchen. “Hi, Mrs. Scott.” I try to muster up the same amount of enthusiasm she has.

“Chris is upstairs. Come in and have some breakfast,” she says.

I follow her, grateful for the invitation to quiet my grumbling stomach.

“Our hot water tank has been on the fritz, so he’s running behind,” she explains as she fixes me a plate from the small amount of food remaining. “How is your morning going so far?”

“It’s a Monday.” I laugh before putting a spoonful of food in my mouth.

“You know, most people hate Mondays, but I always try to think of it as a new start, the ability to wipe last week’s slate clean,” she says as she sits next to me.

That’s one way to look at it. The other is that a whole new set of problems is about to start.

“So Chris hasn’t mentioned which school you’ve decided on yet,” she says.

“Anywhere outside of the great state of Michigan would be great actually.” I chuckle, and she smiles. “But since the tuition for out-of-state schools is more expensive, it’ll probably be somewhere here. My check from the Barrow only goes so far.” I feel my tone starting to drain the good vibe from the house, so I try to lighten the mood. “I’m excited though. It’ll be good to get out, a place where I can start somewhere new. Where everyone doesn’t know me or my parents.”

“I’m hoping Chris stays close. I know it’s selfish, but I can’t imagine him being in a different state for four whole years,” she says with a smile, but there’s a sadness in her voice.

If I had Chris’s parents, I wouldn’t need to move across the state. I look around and lean in, and she does the same.

“If it makes you feel a little better, he’s really pulling for Michigan State,” I tell her, and her smile becomes wide and bright.

“I really hope he chooses there. I know there’s so much more to picking a school than being close to Mom and Dad, but I can’t help it.”

“I think your chances are good. Chris isn’t running away from you guys,” I tell her.

She smiles widely, then her smile softens. “You know, sometimes running isn’t the answer.”

My gaze leaves her face and focuses on my food. That’s exactly why I hate small towns. Almost everyone knows what’s going on in everybody’s house. It’s not that I don’t appreciate Mrs. Scott’s advice, but she can’t possibly know what it’s like to be judged not for who you are but for who your mother is. To feel out of place, like you don’t belong.

“When I was younger, I was runner,” she says as if she can read my mind.

I look at her in disbelief. What could she possibly have had to run from? She’s so put together and nice. Her parents probably loved and doted on her. She’s beautiful, and I could see her as a prom or homecoming queen. I know she’s concerned about me, but she couldn’t understand what it’s like to run.

“I wasn’t always like this.” She chuckles, sounding almost embarrassed. “Time can definitely change you… for the better.”

I smirk and wonder what Mrs. Scott would consider rebellious. Probably coming back five minutes after curfew. I giggle to myself.

“My mother and I didn’t get along at all. We were like oil and water, and it just got worse as I became older,” she says quietly.

I feel my eyebrows rise. Now that I can relate to.

“I didn’t do much to make things better though. My family relationships already were stressed by the time William and I got together,” she says with a small frown.

“They didn’t like him?” I ask.

She laughs. “Not for me.” With a sigh, she trails her finger around her coffee cup.

That says it all. If she had parents who cared enough about who she was with, they beat Evie in the parent contest. She couldn’t care less if I brought a drunk convict home—she’d probably just ask where his dad was.

“Hey, Lisa,” Chris says, bounding into the kitchen. He grabs a couple of pieces of bacon off the tray Mrs. Scott has out. I’m sure Chris has already eaten breakfast and the meat he’s devouring now is like a before-the-road snack. “You riding with me today?”

“Yup, my mom’s car is indisposed thanks to my new stepdad,” I say sarcastically.

Chris shakes his head with a chuckle, and Mrs. Scott looks confused but doesn’t say anything. She has no idea what my life is like—well, she probably has an idea but not the whole extent.

Chris walks past me and kisses his mom’s cheek. “Love you, Mom. See you later.”

“Thanks for breakfast, Mrs. Scott,” I say, following him out of the house.

On the way to school, I explain the whole story of my morning from hell and “Jacky” and how I think my mom has lost the little bit of sanity I’d believed she had.

“Do you think the guy’s okay, that you’re okay being there?” Chris asks, his big green eyes on mine.

My best friend’s concern for me, even being a hormonal seventeen-year-old boy, is more than I’ve felt from my mom in the past eight years. I didn’t say anything to his mom, but I’m really hoping he goes to Michigan State University too. I can’t imagine life without my best friend.

“Yeah, you know, I’m always fine. I think the guy’s bark is worse than his bite, and to be honest, I don’t consider his word his bond. My mom’s touting that they’re together, but you know how that goes. Together today, gone tomorrow.” I wink at him, and he smiles the smile that has all the girls in school crushing on him.

Chris isn’t just gorgeous; he’s a sweetheart and honest and responsible. The complete opposite of the third member of our clan, whom we’re picking up.

Aidan hops into the backseat with a frown. “What are you doing here?”

Aidan Ryles has been Chris’s best friend for eleven years, which means he was Christopher’s friend one year earlier than I was. A fact that he throws out whenever we argue. Christopher and Aidan are like the opposite sides of a coin. Chris’s hair is dark and grown out while Aidan’s alternates between light brown and blond. Chris has green eyes, and Aidan’s are stark blue. If they had superpowers, Chris would act for the greater good, and Aidan would use his strictly for himself. It’s not that that’s such a bad thing. Aidan and I are probably more alike than Chris and I are, but sometimes being similar to someone means clashing, and Aidan and I clash a lot.

“Why, you’re in a glorious mood this morning, aren’t you, sweetie?” I tease as I pinch his cheek.

He pulls away from me and puts his baseball cap over his face. “Wake me up once we’re at school.”

“Good morning to you too, Aidan.” Chris laughs at us.

School goes by as normally and drably as it does every day. After first period swimming, Aidan and I have second period science together, where he barely pays attention and flirts with Cassie Adams, a girl I know for a fact has a huge crush on Chris. Aidan is too confident or arrogant to notice, or maybe he doesn’t care since Chris seems oblivious to the fact that almost half of the senior class wants to do him. Aidan and I got drunk one time and discussed if Chris was gay, but then we realized if he were gay, he’d probably dress a whole lot better and wouldn’t complain so much when I made him watch my favorite TV shows. Aidan summed up his argument by saying that if Chris were gay, he would have for sure made a pass at him by now. While Chris seems oblivious to his looks and the affect they have on the opposite sex, Aidan is absolutely aware of his.

My next period is history, which was my favorite period until I went out on a date with Malcolm Hunter. He’s cute and the captain of the lacrosse team but the most boring person in the history of dates. He talked about nothing but lacrosse. I’ve watched it a couple of times, but I don’t know enough about it to write a dissertation on it, which I would have needed to be able to do in order to hold a worthwhile conversation with Malcolm. For some reason, he thought our date went great, maybe because I let him kiss me—okay, we made out so I could get him to shut up, and he was cute and turned out to be a really good kisser, but not good enough to subject myself to that type of torture again. I declined when he asked me out again, and ever since, he’s looked at me with these big regretful puppy eyes.

I try not to feel so bad about it since Jessica Sims sits on the other side of the class and she’s ready to make him feel better whenever he’s ready. And truthfully, like with every other boy I’ve dated, I didn’t feel anything with Malcolm. After reading as many romance novels as I have, I know the feels are so important. That’s what I hold on to, how I’ll know when I’ve found the one…if there is even such a thing.

As cynical as I can be sometimes, I do believe in love. I believe in lust, but sadly, out of all the boys I’ve kissed and the one I let go further with me than anyone else has, I’ve never had the feels. The butterflies, the touch that makes tingles run up your spine, the guy who wins you with his words and coaxes you with his promises. I would swear that sort of thing only happened in books if so many girls I knew didn’t swear they felt it every five seconds. Why was love or lust so easy to come by for everyone except me? Sometimes I think because I want it too badly, that I dream about it so much that I know the real versus the fake stuff. These kids have no clue.

My class before lunch is fourth period math, the class I hate the absolute most. Precalculus to be exact, and the one thing in the world that should be stricken from history books and never used to torture students who have no intention of ever using more than addition and subtraction. I’ve been working my butt off just to hold on to a low C, and as my teacher, Ms. Gregory, hands me my exam with a big D-minus, I feel that low C on the cusp of slipping away.

“Stay a few minutes after class, Lisa,” she says before she continues to pass out the tests.

I slink down in my seat.

“What’d you get?” Amanda Hines asks me loudly.

I give her the look of death.

“That bad, huh?” she says, giving me a “that sucks” face.

I wish she could have spared a few of her points. Her test proudly displays a ninety-six percent.

“If I didn’t have science club after school and the newspaper, you know I’d tutor you,” she says with fake but convincing sincerity.

Amanda has been on a being-a-better-person kick. She saw some movie,
Pay It Forward
or something like that, and has been all about helping people ever since. Well, not really helping people but expressing her wish to help people. Amanda’s like that—she really latches on to the things she’s exposed to. Our freshman year, she became a vegetarian for six weeks after watching a PETA video. Our sophomore year, she decided to learn Italian because we had a cute foreign exchange student, and then she was on this female empowerment kick, which for some reason she thought meant wearing only pants and fake big-rimmed glasses. Most people find her phases annoying, but living with my mother has given me an extremely high level of patience, and since Amanda and I have been friends since the fourth grade and I don’t have a lot of female friends, I put up with it.

“Have you decided if you’re coming to Claire’s party this weekend?” she asks as we pack up our things since class is almost over.