Searching for Beautiful (7 page)

Snapping out of it, I turn toward the lockers, hoping they won’t notice. Hoping I can somehow blend in with the stupid puke-colored doors.

“Hey, Bryntastic,” Christian says from behind me.

Turn around and face him! Stop staring at the locker!
The rest of the group goes silent behind me, like they’re wondering why he’s talking to me.

Turn around!
I tell myself again.
Show them you don’t care.
I turn. “Umm, hey.” It’s a blast back in time to see him. Christian Medina. Even though I looked for him this morning, I think a part of me thought it might have been a dream. Or a nightmare. That it’s impossible for Christian to come back now.

I glance over at Ellie and Diana. They’re whispering to each other. Todd and Kevin are looking at Christian like he’s mental. But Ian’s ice-blue eyes are lasers, penetrating me, trying to burn me alive.

“I’m hungry. Let’s go eat, man.” Todd nudges Christian.

Christian grins at me. It’s not a full smile, more like a half one. It makes my stomach tingle but I tamp it down, angry at myself. I’m done with boys. Boys who want sex or pretend they love a girl. I’ll never risk that hurt from losing…

My hand rests against my stomach.

“Come on, pottery girl. You’re eating with us, right?” My shock must show on my face because Christian then adds, “Did I say something wrong? You’re still into pottery, right?”

“Yeah, I’m done here.” Ian gives me another icy look before walking away. Everyone else stands there, but you can tell it’s for Christian and not for me.

For months all I’ve wanted is for someone to treat me normally, and now that someone’s doing it, I have no idea how to respond. I want to run. I want to hug him. But then Jason’s face shoves its way into my head. This is something he would have done. Out of all the girls he could have talked to at the bowling alley that night, he’d picked me. Now, here’s Christian trying to pull me in, too.

“No.” Shaking my head, I hope I look more confident than I feel. And as stupid and
insane
as it is, a part of me hopes he’ll insist. Or say that he’ll eat out here with me, but then I don’t want him to stay with me, either. Is it wrong to want someone to do something you won’t let them do?

Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately, I don’t get a chance. Christian shrugs, turns, and they all walk away. They’re not five feet from me before they’re talking and he’s laughing again.

…

Like I do in every class where we get to choose our own seats, I head to the very back of my seventh-period Government and Law class. The seats start to fill up, though the ones by me, of course, people avoid. It’s a weird feeling, knowing people are avoiding me. That no one wants to even sit by me. I don’t get what they think will happen, but honestly, that doesn’t even matter. What matters is, it sucks.

Have I ever treated someone like this? I rack my brain, but I can’t think of anyone. We’re not like those schools you hear about on TV. I don’t ever remember people getting teased or harassed. But did I ever pay attention to anyone being ignored? I wonder if this might be just as bad.

My eyes keep finding the door, wondering who all will be in class with me, which I guess I would know if I didn’t skip the second half of yesterday. I’ve gotten pretty lucky so far. Ellie here, Diana there, but no classes with the two of them together. No classes with— My eyes snap away from the door. Ian, the one who hates me the most.

The fist squeezing my insides loosens when Ian sits on the opposite side of the room from me. And then he shakes his head, rolls his eyes, like I’m a disappointment to him.

I’m paying so much attention to Ian, I don’t notice someone step up to the desk beside me. Don’t hear the chair pull out. It’s not until Ian’s stare shifts from me, his eyes widening slightly, that I turn to see who it is.

Christian Medina.

“What’s up?” He nods his head once, like boys do sometimes. That confident “hi” thing a girl could never pull off.

He’s dressed so differently from most of the other guys, in a pair of cargo pants, T-shirt with a long-sleeved shirt underneath it. I don’t know why I’m focusing on his clothes. Probably because it’s easier than looking at the rest of him, because Christian is even cuter than he was before.

“Whew!” Mr. Powers slips into the classroom, saving me from replying. “Shh, don’t tell. I’m setting a bad example by being late to my own class on the second day. That kind of behavior shouldn’t happen until at least the second month.”

Everyone in the classroom laughs, except for Christian and me. Almost like the way Ian did a minute ago, Christian shakes his head at me. This time, I feel like I really did disappoint someone.

I didn’t even say hello.

Chapter Thirteen

Before

Rolling over in bed, I stretch. The second my arm comes into contact with something that hadn’t been there when I went to sleep, I remember what day it is.

Christmas.

My heart dances as I push up in bed and grab the box. My fingers rip at the wrapping paper, which has extra tape holding it down. Mom always does that, trying to make it harder for Dad and me to get into our packages.

Green paper falls to the bed as I keep tearing into the shoebox-size gift. Once I see the box, I don’t have to open it to know what it is.

My eyes actually tear a little, which I know is silly. Not many fifteen-year-olds would get so excited about a pair of bunny slippers.

After pulling the lid off the box, I giggle when I see the pink slippers inside. They look just like—

“Ah, so you got them.”

Turning my head, I see Mom standing in my bedroom doorway.

“This is an awesome memory gift, Mom.”

Every Christmas we give one present called the memory gift. It can’t cost more than fifteen dollars and it has to be something that holds a special memory from the past. Mom’s parents are super wealthy, which is cool and all, but they’re the type who try to buy your love rather than earn it. They didn’t help her find “her thing” the way she was determined to help me find pottery. Didn’t dance with her or watch her make pottery for hours, like she did with me. Dad said a couple years after I was adopted, Mom made the memory gift rule because she always wanted to make sure gifts were about love and not just materialistic things.

“Well, it is my fault you had to get rid of the first pair.” She chuckles. “Let’s try not to carry these around with you this time.”

I swat her arm when she sits beside me. “I was
four.
”

“When you got them. Not when I finally made you toss them, even though you said you’d never forgive me.”

A smile spreads across my lips. “Well, I guess I’ll forgive you now.”

When I was four, I got my first pair of bunny slippers and I loved them. Some kids carry a blanket or a stuffed animal. Me, I carried my bunnies. I’d been brokenhearted when she finally told me I was too old to carry around slippers I’d outgrown.

“You better.” Mom stands. “Now hurry up. I can only hold off your father for so long. He’s going to jump into the rest of the gifts without us.”

She gets to the door before I speak. “Thank you. This is my favorite memory gift I’ve ever gotten.”

Mom blows a kiss. “And getting you was the best gift your father and I will ever have.”

Me. I’m special to someone as cool as her. It makes me the luckiest girl in the world.

Chapter Fourteen

Now

I flip through the channels, not really paying much attention to what flashes across the screen. I’ve never been much of a TV person, but now, at least it’s something to do. Doesn’t seem to make it more interesting, so I just keep going through the stations, over and over like I actually care what pops up on the screen.

Depression sucks. I want it to be over already.

I wiggle my toes in my bunny slippers. This time, I’ll never get rid of them. It’s so funny how I hadn’t thought about my slippers in so many years, until she gave me the memory gift again. She just seemed to know stuff like that. That’s how Mom was. Dad called her beautiful, but he always said he loved her for her heart. Because of how beautiful she was inside.

I can’t imagine what that feels like. To be loved by a boy with the devotion that he loved her.

“Ugh!” I punch a couch pillow a couple times before throwing it to the floor. I’m driving myself crazy. Mom wouldn’t have folded as easily as I am. As easily as Dad is, because though he’s still here and hasn’t done anything as stupid as I did, I’m pretty sure he’s broken now, too.

Glancing at the clock, I see it’s about five. I know Dad will be home soon and I also know I’m supposed to be at the stupid community center today. A teen outreach program. When did that ever become me? I was the normal girl, the happy one with the awesome parents. I’m not supposed to need any kind of outreach.

But I do.

I kick off my slippers and push my feet into my shoes. It’s a quick drive to the community center. The whole time, my stomach hurts. I wish I was one of those girls who could just say screw it. That I was tough and didn’t give a crap about anyone or what they thought. That I could say no without worrying about getting in trouble over it, but I’m not that girl.

I’m not saying I’m perfect, but I’m definitely not used to getting into trouble, either. The only time I did what
I
wanted was with Jason, and look how that turned out.

I bite my fingernails as I walk in the door. It’s a huge room with a few people my age in it. There are chairs around the walls and a few long tables. A couch and TV. Even a pool table and air hockey.

I see a couple hallways and rooms. Posters and pictures of kids I assume come here are plastered to the wall.

It’s strange, coming to a place like this.

The door pushes open behind me and I have to move out of the way so I don’t get hit. It’s a boy, and he doesn’t pay any attention to me as he walks inside, bumps fists with another guy, and they lean on the pool table talking.

“Hi. I’m Valerie. Can I help you?” an older woman asks. She has thin lips and a pointed nose—features that don’t make her look too friendly.

This is who I’m supposed to talk to, so I say, “Umm, yeah. I’m Brynn. I was told to ask for you.”

“Oh, yes. We’re so glad you could come, Miss De Luca.” She launches into a whole story that I only partially listen to. Something about activities and counselors for people who want to talk, classes, yada yada, but she doesn’t seem to need my input so I don’t give it and hardly listen.

Something catches my eye and I look to the left to see what it is. My heart stutters. Christian Medina is here. It didn’t even occur to me that I might run into someone from school.

His hair is half in his face as he walks, not as though he’s trying to hide behind it, but just because it’s
him
and he doesn’t care about anything else.

A little pinch of jealousy squeezes inside me.

Valerie is still talking, but for some reason I’m watching him.

A man steps up to him, and I hear him say something about their appointment before they start to walk away. As soon as he gets to a door, he looks up. Our eyes catch for a second and he gives me a small nod, but he doesn’t stop. Christian keeps going, following the guy and closing the door behind him.

Obviously not realizing I’m wondering about Christian, Valerie points to where he just disappeared. “Those are the counseling rooms. I’m going to ask you to meet with me there once a week. We’ll pick a time together.”

Any other moment, I’d struggle not to roll my eyes at what she said—at the fact that she wants me to talk to her once a week as though that will help. But right now all I can think about is the fact that Christian is going into those rooms. Someone thinks he needs counseling, too. My mind won’t stop wondering why.

…

“Excuse me.” A girl with short black hair steps up next to me, reaching for a plastic cup and the water dispenser. With how close I’m sitting to it, I suddenly feel like I look as though I’m trying to guard the thing. Music fills the room, but it’s not too loud. Valerie finished showing me around and told me she wants me to just relax and make myself at home today. I guess the talking comes later.

Scooting out of the girl’s way, I lean against the wall. She has piercings up and down her ears. Her hair is almost cut like a boy’s and it’s messy, but not unkempt if that makes sense. It looks like she wants it like that. Her eyes are colored with a bright-purple eye shadow that I’m not sure I could ever pull off.

Her clothes are huge, but again, I think she wants the look. She’s wearing a big jacket and baggy pants.

“I’m Emery, by the way.” She waves at me before filling her plastic cup with water. “This your first time here?”

She’s the only person besides Valerie to actually approach me since I arrived. “Yeah. I don’t go here.” As soon as the words leave my mouth, I feel like a jerk. Like I think coming here is bad or something. It’s not. It’s just not somewhere I ever saw myself needing to be.

Emery holds out her hand. “What’s your name?”

“Brynn.” I shake her hand.

“Hi, Brynn. Nice to meet you.”

Chairs line the wall beside me and she sits in one. When she does, her jacket pulls a little tighter and I see a bump in her belly. Not a huge one, but still, it’s obviously a baby bump. My hand finds my stomach. I don’t feel like I’m controlling the movement as it rubs the flatness there.

I could look like her right now. I had a life inside me. It hits me at the most random times—that emptiness. What really happened—what could have been. The depth of my loss and the track my life was on at sixteen years old. A track that would have been scary as hell, but one that I would have taken, even if I didn’t keep the baby at the end. After everything Mom and Dad went through to try to have a baby of their own, I couldn’t have had an abortion. But I didn’t have to. It’s gone nonetheless.

“I’m only five months, but I swear I think I look eight.” She touches her stomach, too, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.