Queen of Broken Hearts (5 page)

“Do you have any idea how crazy you sound?”

“It isn’t crazy. I just want everyone to worship me, is all.”

He laughed. It was more a funny snorting sound than angelic peals, so I had no idea why it sent my stomach into backflips.

“I don’t care about your opinion, anyway,” I said. For some reason, that felt like a lie.

“But don’t you want me to worship you?”

“No.” I turned my nose into the air, a move that is harder to pull off than it sounds. Do it wrong, and you’re just giving everyone a good view of your nose hair.

“For what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re not perfect.” His eyes met mine in a funny glowy sort of way.

“It isn’t worth anything at all,” I said, but I couldn’t help it. I smiled, and it didn’t even feel like pretending.

Skittle met me at my house to finalize party plans. The nomination rally was on Saturday, and my party was right afterwards. With Lightbulb gone, I would be running unopposed again, so I wasn’t worried about the actual voting.

“The invitations are all sent,” Skittle said, “and I changed the venue to outdoors so we won’t have to worry about space.”

“Outdoors?” I frowned. “Won’t that be tacky?”

“It’s already set up,” Skittle said. “It looks great, don’t worry.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but my mother cut me off by shoving a cup of coffee in my hands.

“I’m sure it’ll be lovely, Skittle,” she said.

“I got a DJ instead of a live band. DJs are in right now, anyway.”

“No, they—”

“It’s fine,” my mother cut in again.

I glared at her. “Mother.” I grabbed her hand and pulled her into the hallway. “What are you doing?”

“You put so much pressure on that girl. And I’m not sure it matters, anyway.”

“How could it not matter?”

Mother twirled her bracelet around her wrist. “How do you feel about leaving?”

“Leaving?” My stomach dropped.

“Last time I got a movie offer, I thought, it’s just the same thing over and over again. And we could just go. Find something new, be something new, maybe.”

“Is this about Rob? Because he left? He could still come back, Mother.”

She leaned against the wall. “It’s not only Rob. And he was right, this place is…” she waved a hand. “We’ve been here too long.”

“Three years is too long?” I couldn’t process what she was saying. Of course we’d moved around a lot when I was younger, but I’d thought that was over. I would act perfect, and we would stay in one place forever. Or at least until I graduated. “We can’t leave yet.”

“You would love Italy.”

“I don’t believe this.”

“We always knew this would be temporary.”

“No, I didn’t!” I’d gotten too loud. I could hear Skittle shuffling papers in the kitchen. I took a deep breath. “I can’t talk about this now. I’m having the party.”

“I didn’t say you couldn’t. Hey.” She grabbed my hand. “Blue skies ahead, right?”

I snatched my hand away.

I would not let my mother ruin my moment of victory. On Saturday, I pulled on my red dress and dabbed makeup over my puffy eyes. I would not let Pak leaving ruin my moment. I would not let anything or anyone ruin this moment.

I smiled at myself in the mirror, but even I barely believed it.

The gym was decked out with streamers. The marching band played the school anthem as the crowd trickled in. It wasn’t the whole student body, of course. There would always be shirkers for a non-mandatory rally on a Saturday.

I stood in the doorway for a moment, feeling the cold hardwood floor through my stilettos. Everyone slowly turned to watch me.

I was perfect. This moment was perfect. I walked forward. My crown was waiting for me.

I settled into my spot on the bleachers beside my flunkies to wait. They shied away from me. Largesse’s lip trembled, as if he was going to burst into tears based on my sheer proximity. Even Popsicle held herself stiffly. For the first time, it occurred to me that I was alone. My old friends wanted nothing to do with me. My new friends… I had no new friends. Not really.

Never mind. I had Skittle. That was enough.

The doors to the gym closed. Principal Stevens began his speech. “The mission statement of this school is, ‘Let the children decide.’ In compliance with this statement, at the request of the student body, we created the office of Queen of Heart to fight bullying and injustice in all its forms. Today, I present to you the nominees for your next Queen of Heart.”

The crowd cheered. Sort of.

“First, Miss Birdie Anders.”

I stepped forward with a smile and a wave. There was a smatter of nervous applause. “Thank you, Principal Stevens. I would like to—”

“Miss Anders, I’m not done yet.”

I blinked. I blinked again. “What?” I got rid of Lightbulb. There couldn’t have been anyone else. Except he’d said ‘first’ before my name. First meant there had to be a—

“Second,” he said. My heart stopped. “Miss Skittle Duair.”

Was this a joke?

Skittle stood up, silver dress shimmering. This had to be a joke.

I finally knew what ‘dead silence’ meant. It was the kind of absolute quiet that suffocated every pore of your being. Skittle reached the floor. She stood beside me. Her smile looked exactly like mine didn’t.

“Skittle?” I whispered, the sound barely a breath.

She took my hand. “I threw your dry cleaning in the trash. And there’s no party. Not for you, anyway.” She beamed at me. “Smile, Birdie. Everyone’s watching.”

My freshman year, I crashed the pre-nomination party. Athena threw it every year to celebrate, and she invited everyone except the freshmen.

I made myself up as one of the sophomores I’d heard was going to bail and snuck in. With Annabelle, of course. In those days, everything was always with Annabelle.

I took off the disguise in the bathroom and switched Athena’s mic off and mine on in the middle of her speech. She banged her suddenly non-working microphone on the wall. I stepped up a ladder at the back of the room.

“It’s all bullshit, anyway,” I said. For the first time, everyone in the room was watching me. I’d never felt so alive. “The Queen of Heart is supposed to help others, but Athena only helps herself. Isn’t that right, Athena?”

She couldn’t answer. Her mic was off.

“We need to get the office back to what it’s meant to be. Tearing down the social hierarchy so we can all stand united in getting out of high school alive. Who’s with me? Who’s ready to take back our school?”

I won by a landslide.

I took down the wrong girl.

What did I do? What did I do?

I took down the wrong girl.

I closed my eyes and plunged my head into a sink full of cold water, letting it shock me back to sanity. I needed to think. I had to hold it together if I was going to fight this. And I was going to fight this.

I had no one. No one.

I pulled my head back up and gasped in air. Water hit the delicate silk of my dress. Never mind. I’d buy a new one.

I needed… pizza. I needed pizza.

I got in my car and drove. The pizza called to me. I raced out of my car and through the entrance. The employee working the counter didn’t have black hair or a nametag that read
Samantha
.

“Where’s Sam?” I asked, dumbfounded.

“It’s his day off.”

“Oh.” I watched a fly beat itself to death against the inside of the glass case. “When will he be back?”

“Tomorrow.” He squinted at me. “Hey, you wouldn’t happen to be that crazy prison girl, would you?”

I bristled. “That mug shot was Photoshopped.”

“Mug shot? I thought you were the girl Sam keeps going on about.”

My mouth went dry. “Oh. I mean, yes. I mean, maybe.”

“I could call him for you.”

“Yes. Please.”

He pulled out his phone. It was one of those cheap
free with purchase of fifty minutes
deals that didn’t even have a touch screen. “Hey, man,” he said, swinging open the door to the back. “Your girlfriend’s here. She’s even crazier than you made her sound. Her face is all wet, and she’s got on this dress…”

He closed the door, and I couldn’t hear him anymore.

My face burned. I should leave. Now. I should leave and find some other dive to hide out at.

I stayed.

Phone guy came back.

I stared at the counter. “Thanks…”

“Chad,” he said.

“Right. Thanks, Chad. I’ll just sit over here.” I sat down at the only table. He stared at me. I suppose, technically, that meant everyone in the room was watching me, but I don’t think it counted.

Sam showed up half an hour later. I’d never seen him out of his uniform. He had on khaki shorts that were only two seasons out of style and a T-shirt with a picture of a dog on it. I never took him for the dog T-shirt type.

For some ungodly reason the first words out of my mouth when I saw him were, “It’s Birdie.” And then it got worse. “I mean, it used to be Brittany, and before that it was Bethany. It was even Bernice, once. But it’s Birdie now.”

“What?” Sam said.

“My name. It’s Birdie. Just so you know.”

Chad twirled his finger in a circle. “I think you established that. Thoroughly.”

And I thought my face couldn’t get any redder.

“You look more like a Birdie than a Lola,” Sam said.

“Oh,” was all I could manage.

In the silence that followed, I could hear my hair dripping on the floor.

“Of course, today you look—”

“Awful?”

“I was going to say perfect.” He smiled, and it was so genuine it made my heart ache. “Do you ever hang out anywhere besides crummy pizza places?”

“I go to school. And home.”

“So that would be a no.”

He held out a hand. I took it. “I need new clothes.”

“I know just the place.”

“Just the place” was a thrift store down the street. I traded my soggy dress for a jean skirt and a Rolling Stones T-shirt. It was probably a terrible deal, but it wasn’t like I was short on money, and I was never wearing that dress again, anyway.

“We should take your car wherever we go,” Sam said. “It’ll get stolen if you leave it here.”

“Oh, right.” Sometimes it was hard to remember that when you owned things, you had to worry about other people stealing them. I’d spent thirteen years of my life on the other side of that equation.

We got in my car and headed out. “Where to?” I asked as we sat in traffic.

“There’s always the park off Bentley.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I mowed something into the grass once.”

“That was you?” He sounded impressed.

I shrugged.

“I can’t believe I’m in a car being driven by a park-defacing criminal.”

“Those charges were dropped.” I hesitated. “Do you think I’m crazy?”

“No. I already told you, I think you’re perfect.”

“That makes you the only one.”

“Things didn’t go so great today?”

“No. My secretary stole my throne.”

“I hate it when that happens.”

I laughed, my lungs expanding and contracting until I felt half alive again.

“We could go to this place I hang out with my friends. They serve actual food, and I bet you haven’t committed a criminal action against them.”

“All right, just tell me the way.”

“Turn left here.” And he kept giving me directions…
 

all the way to Olive Garden.

They hung out at Olive Garden. Like the commercials. It was too much. I idled my car outside and stared at the tan and green building.

“Wait, let me guess,” Sam said. “You’re wanted for burning down an Olive Garden. Or pasta theft.”

“No, it’s just so… cliché.”

“They have amazing breadsticks.”

Sam’s friends were equally abnormally normal. They were so friendly and welcoming I kept checking to make sure we hadn’t stumbled onto a commercial set by accident. I struggled to keep all their ordinary names straight.

“So, Birdie, what do your parents do?” Melissa asked.

“This and that,” I said.

“Birdie robs banks for money,” Sam said.

I choked on my diet Coke. Everyone laughed like it was a joke, and I reminded myself they didn’t know anything. “What do your parents do?” I asked Sam.

Sam smiled. “My dad owns Cheesey’s.”

My face reddened. Of course he did.

“He’ll be happy to know I’m entertaining his best customer. And not so happy to know I’m teaching you what pizza should taste like.” Sam draped an arm around the back of my chair. It was like he had a gravity field. I had to stop myself from leaning back into him. I shoved a breadstick in my mouth.

“Don’t be modest, Sam,” Jake said. “Tell her about your four-point-oh GPA and plans to open your own chain of restaurants.” Jake shifted until he could look at me around Sam. “And he really likes you.”

Sam shoved him, and Jake fell back in his chair, laughing.

I had no idea how to respond to a statement like that. If this was a commercial, I was missing my script, and bluntness was not my forte.

“You should come to the game on Wednesday,” said a guy whose name I’d forgotten.

“She should totally come to the game,” Melissa said. “She’d give us the biggest cheering section in Abernathy history.”

“Is it a football game?” I asked.

My question was met with silence.

“You didn’t tell her?” Melissa said.

Sam shrugged awkwardly. “She wasn’t ready yet.”

“Bastard,” Jake said. He turned to me with faux sympathetic eyes. “I don’t know how to break this to you, but it’s my misfortune to inform you that you’re hanging out with Abernathy High’s mathlete team.”

It was dark by the time I drove to Sam’s house to drop him off. He got out of the car. “Good night,” he said, leaning back through the window. I left the car off, reluctant to let the night end.

“Call me?” I said.

“You know, despite stealing your cell phone, I don’t actually have your number.”

“Here.” I pulled a pen out of my glove box and reached for his arm. He held it out to me. I brushed my fingertips over his warm skin. He smelled like garlic and pepperoni. I wanted to bury my face in his stupid dog shirt and never move again.