The Missing Piece

by Jessica Baxter

  An electric current is pulsing through me, and by the way, Ian is averting his gaze, I think he feels it too. My room suddenly feels full of possibility. He leans in a little closer. Our lips are almost touching. My breathing speeds up and I’m pretty sure Ian can hear my heart beating in my chest. It feels like it’s going to leap out and push our lips together. I can almost taste him.

  He doesn’t move, and neither do I.

  Chapter Eighteen

  I don’t know what to do.

  It's later that evening. My phone sits next to me on my bed, buzzing like a swarm of angry bees as the screen fills with missed calls and messages.

  10:15 Em. What happened? Are U okay?

  10:45 Where are U?

  1:30 I’m about to call in a search warrant. What happened???

  2:15 Call me ASAP!!!

  My fingers quickly swipe across the screen, clearing the messages. How long has Mads been talking to Mason behind my back? I sigh. Calling her back would be the noble thing to do; I should hear her out, instead of jumping to conclusions, but I don't know what to say to her. With trembling hands, I shove my phone into my pocket.

  The smell of blood and alcohol overpowers me, making me feel lightheaded. I walk over to my window and fling it open. Is Mason cheating on me with my best friend?

  This thought makes my stomach lurch uneasily. Images of him with Mads, alone, quickly fill my head. His hands on her hips, pulling her closer to him. Mads pressing her lips to his. Mason's fingers intertwining in her hair. Her calling his name soft and sweet. Mason pulls her shirt over her head. His gaze falls on me, his mouth twisted into a smirk so evil it makes Lucifer look good. I suck in a ragged breath, the panic surrounding me.

  The crisp fall air blows against my face. Fiercely, I shake my head, banishing the images far away. I slam the window shut and climb back in my bed. Every lie and ultimatum Mason ever fed me bounces angrily against the sides of my head. I dig my nails into my palms. I am so stupid. Mason treats me like the dirt on the bottom of his shoe, and, yet I still—No! I squeeze my eyes tightly shut.

  Rain splashes angrily against my window; it doesn't look like it will let up anytime soon. Slowly, I watch the rain streak down the glass, grinding my teeth together as tears start falling. Squeezing my eyes shut, I slowly pull my knees to my chest blocking out the pain and sob. Mason’s face is warped and twisted in my memory. His eyes narrow and cold, his lips thinly pursed, nothing like the Mason I remember. His voice rings in my head, “If you love me, if you love me, if you love me . . .”

  I stood by him after all the lies and manipulation because I thought that’s what it meant to be in love. My stomach twists, tensing. Things haven't been right between Mason and me for a while, and, getting him to talk to me is about as useful as using dandelions to pull teeth, but—my conversation with my mother breaks through my thoughts like a rainbow at the end of a rainstorm.

  Nobody can make you feel inferior without your consent.

  I-I deserve better.

  Pushing myself off my bed, I pull my jacket off the hook and then quickly pull it over my arms. The weather doesn't look friendly, and it's probably not the best idea to step outside and into the belly of the beast, but I can't spend another minute here. Determination runs through my veins. I'm sick of sitting around and just taking whatever life throws at me without fighting back. I am going to find Ian and tell him how I feel. If he doesn’t feel the same way that’s okay, at least I’ll know.

  I stand outside Danielle's room, weighing my options. The last time we talked about Ian was when Sarah attacked me. Danielle didn’t seem upset then, so maybe talking to her now won’t be bad. I raise my hand to knock when a group of juniors turn down the hall and start walking towards me.

  The girls give me a weird look as I leap away from Danielle’s door. It’s probably not the best idea to talk to Danielle about my jumbled Ian/Mason drama, at least not right now.

  Sarah's little snake is still out there, and as much as I hope it's not Danielle I can't be one-hundred percent certain. She’s known Sarah longer than she’s known me. The fact that they’re still friends, and that Danielle misses Sarah, must mean there’s some level of loyalty.

  Do I really want to confide in Danielle and chance the Evil Queen throwing apples at my head?

  I clasp my lanyard in my hand, and, instead, head for the stairwell. The sun is starting to drop behind the trees. I shiver. My jacket is light and paper thin. It usually doesn’t get cold in Los Angeles, but it has been rainy and gloomy all day. My arms cross tightly against my chest as I turn down Sunset Boulevard and wait for the crosswalk symbol to come on. I don’t know where I’m going. All I know is I need a quiet place to sort my thoughts out.

  I almost kissed Ian.

  My heart races just thinking about it. We used to hang out every night before Sarah confronted me and I told Ian we couldn’t be friends anymore. Now I’m lucky if I see him outside of school. Is it possible I’ve been reading into the signals he’s been giving me?

  The rain slows to a light drizzle as I walk through the park. A giant willow tree sits just past the pavilion. I walk past a few shorter, stubbier trees and then find an empty bench near the river and sit down. Ian was sitting inches away from me, and I didn’t try to stop him. I didn’t tell him no. And, he didn't move either.

  Is it possible Ian likes me, too?

  If he does, what does that mean for Mason and me?

  My hands feel clammy and hot. I rub them against my bouncing knee. A sinking feeling rises in my stomach as if I’ve just been caught with my hand in the cookie jar. I bite my lip. Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I scroll through my contacts until I land on Mason's name.

  Will he be crushed if I dump him . . . or will he even care?

  Taking a deep breath, I log into my DisneyFreaks app on my phone. My inbox is full of everything, but a new email from Mason. I quickly open a blank email, add his address and ask him to call me as soon as he gets this. Time zones can be such an inconvenience sometimes. I wish I could call Mason right now and tell him exactly what's on my mind, but it's going on 7 PM here and that means it's 3 AM in Nigeria.

  A couple walks past me, laughing and holding hands. I grit my teeth together. Sometimes I wish my life were more like a Disney movie; the princesses have obstacles they need to overcome and their happy endings don't come easily, but without a doubt, they always get that perfect fairy-tale ending. The guy always gets the girl, good triumphs evil, and then they ride off into the sunset on a noble white steed.

  I slowly exhale. If only . . .

  My life feels like dominos placed haphazardly on the edge of a table and the slightest bump could send everything tumbling to the ground.

  The last few rays of sun dip behind a cloud and I don't want to be alone in a dark park, so I stand up and stretch before walking back to Cyprus Hall. The pavilion area with picnic tables and grills comes into view as I exit the trees. A couple sits side by side, deep in what looks like an intimate conversation. I duck my head as I get closer, staring at my feet, trying to ignore the voices coming from the pavilion. The wind though is ruthless tonight, every breeze pushes their words in my direction.

  “You’re kidding, right?” A girl cries, her voice rising in anger.

  “No.” My heart plummets in my chest. Ian’s voice is full of sadness. “I’m not. You promised me you stopped . . . you promised . . .”

  My knees go weak. I can’t move.

  How could I have been so stupid? I’m biting my lip so hard, I can taste blood. Tears sting my eyes. How did I ever think I could compete with Sarah? Why would Ian want to be with me when he could be with her?

  “Please,” Ian says, he sounds tired, exasperated. “I’m just trying to help. I know you’re going through a hard time . . . but that’s not going to fix your problems. You need help. This . . .” his voice breaks. “This isn’t who you are.”

  Sarah lets out a shrill laugh. “As if you even care who I am!”

  “W
hat’s that supposed to mean?”

  Slowly, I start to back up. I step on a loose stick and it snaps. My heart freezes in my chest like an antelope’s right before a lion gets ready to pounce.

  What is wrong with my legs?

  Sarah’s head snaps up, a hideous sneer spreads across her lips. Ian’s back is facing me. Sarah runs her fingers through his hair and then wraps her arms around his neck. Her lips brush against Ian’s lightly, then more passionately. His hands fly to her shoulders, pulling her closer. A few seconds pass. I can’t avert my gaze.

  Does our almost kiss mean nothing?

  Sarah kisses Ian longingly one more time, before pulling away. She glares at me over his shoulder an evil smile playing on her lips. “Did you honestly think he’d be interested in someone like you?”

  Ian whips around. Sarah cackles. I take three tentative steps backward like I’m backing away from a ravaged bear.

  “What the hell, Sarah,” Ian says, pushing her away.

  I run. Ian calls after me, but I don’t turn around.

  Maybe like Cinderella’s ugly stepsisters, I'm destined to never find my happily ever after.

  Two hours later, I sit cross-legged on my bed debating if I want to confront Mads or not. Confrontations have never been my strength and I hate fighting with her, but I need to know what's going on between her and Mason. Slowly, I dial her number. The phone rings twice before she answers.

  “God, it took you long enough. I've been trying to reach you all day, but you've been MIA. What happened?” Her voice is tight, clipped.

  Ignoring her, I ask. “How long have you been talking to him?”

  “What? Talking to who?”

  “Don't fake innocence.” I scoff. “You said Mason sent you a video of elephants. How long have you been talking to Mason behind my back?”

  “He's my friend, too, Emily.” Her voice is small. “We've emailed a few times; why are you making such a big deal out of this?”

  “Because he's my boyfriend!” I shout. “How is it that he's talking to you, but he won't answer any of my calls?”

  Mads laugh is vicious. “Oh, that's rich, Em.”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “He may be your boyfriend, but don't act like that means anything to you. Ever since you've got to Los Angeles all you've been able to talk about is Ian, and poor Mason has been inconsolable.” A demonic laugh escapes her throat. “It’s not like you’ve been there for him since he’s gone to Africa. He told me you’ve been refusing to talk to him and that whenever he calls all you want to do is talk about yourself.”

  It feels as if she’s slapped me in the face. “That’s not true. He’s lying—”

  “Seriously, you're pulling that card,” Mads says. I can see her rolling her eyes.

  I bite my lip. “Please, Mads, you have to believe me.”

  The line goes silent. If I couldn't hear her steady breathing on the other end of the phone I would have thought she hung up on me.

  I feel so small.

  “Just give me a chance to explain everything. If you're still—”

  “Mason, already explained everything, Emily. I know what you've done.” Her voice twists like the words she's about to say are causing her physical pain and just speaking them is going to make her sick. “How could you send him pictures of you with another guy?”

  It feels as if a ton of bricks has hit me in the head. Mads admitted she's been talking to Mason, but I didn't realize they were close enough to confide in each other.

  The phone shakes in my hands. “Please, I didn't do anything.”

  “Yeah, right.” She scoffs. “Don't call me again.”

  The line clicks. I close my eyes and sing “Part of Your World” once in my head, before dialing her number again. The line doesn't ring and I don’t get sent to voicemail, instead, an automated message plays: “The number you have dialed has been changed, disconnected or is no longer in service. Please check the number and try again. The number you have dialed—”

  What the hell?

  Hot tears spill down my cheeks. I fling myself back on my bed, silencing my phone and shove it under my pillow. I'm sick of trying to make Mads a part of my life only to have her fly off the handle and accuse me of being the bad guy. My body shakes with rage. It's not like I was talking to her boyfriend behind her back.

  Whatever, I slump against my pillows, crossing my arms. It's her loss.

  Three small raps on my door pull me from my bitter mood. I slowly get up and open the door; Danielle is on the other side holding two mugs of hot chocolate, her Grey's Anatomy DVDs tucked under her arm. Her gaze falls to the floor. “I was headed back to my room and I overheard your phone call.” She bites her lip nervously, glancing up at me. “Up for company?”

  I nod, letting her into my room.

  Danielle sets the mugs of hot chocolate down on my desk, while I grab my laptop and get the TV show started. Then I walk across the room over to my mini-fridge, pull out two vitamin waters and my secret stash of Oreo cookies and peanut butter.

  “Was it really that loud?” I ask, smoothing out my pillowcase.

  “A little,” Danielle says, sitting down next to me.

  I wince.

  “Oh.”

  The last conversation I had with Danielle about my love life was when she told me Mason was a total Jerkasaruosrex and wasn't worth a second of my time.

  Should I tell her everything?

  It would be nice not having to keep my feelings all bottled up . . . but is it even worth mentioning when Ian clearly doesn't feel the same way? The way he was kissing Sarah . . . I squeeze my eyes shut banishing the image away.

  Why does everything have to be so complicated?

  “So,” Danielle says, slowly. I glance at her. “What do you need to tell Mason about Ian?” She asks, eyebrows arched.

  “Oh, just that he's a huge rugby fan, too.”

  “Okay.” Danielle stares at me, her eyes slowly scrutinizing my face. “We'll go with that. Who were you talking to? You sounded really upset.”

  She listens intently as I tell her about my phone call with Mads. I tell her how she's been talking to Mason this whole time behind my back. My stomach feels uneasy and I push the tray of half-eaten Oreo cookies away. “Do you think she likes him?”

  “It's possible . . .” Danielle says, her face scrunching. “But if she's really your friend she won't make a move; she'll respect that he's with you regardless of what she feels. It's just weird that Mason is talking to her and not you . . .”

  There is no such thing as ‘just friends.' Chelsea voices shrills in my head. It’s impossible.

  “Do you think she's telling the truth and they're really just friends?” I ask, wearily. “Is it even possible for guys and girls to be 'just friends'?”

  Earlier, I thought Ian and I were 'just friends' and look how wrong I was about that. How did I not realize I had feelings for him sooner?

  Danielle arches her eyebrows like are you crazy? Of course, they can.

  “Alex and Mer.” She says, gesturing to my laptop in front of her. “Do you not remember how he became her person after Christina bailed? How he stood by her after Derrick died and encouraged her to open up and let her sisters in? And,” she pauses. “If that's not enough evidence look at Ian, Liam and me. We've been friends since freshman year and I wouldn't have it any other way.”

  “So, you never liked one of them before?”

  “Bleck. Hard pass,” she says, giggling. “Don't get me wrong they're both attractive, funny and sweet, BUT liking them would be like fancying my brother and that is just sick and wrong.”

  Relief floods through me at Danielle's words. Maybe, Mads is telling the truth then.

  “Besides, neither one of them are my type.”

  “Oh?”

  She pauses Grey's Anatomy, exits out of the DVD player and then pulls up a Chrome browser page. Her fingers type across the keyboard swiftly as she logs into her blogging account. Dan
ielle scrolls through her friends’ list and then stops, the mouse hovering on a picture of a young man with a firm jawline and surfer blonde hair. He looks like he's stepped out of an Abercrombie & Fitch ad. Danielle's cheeks blush a vibrant red. “His name is Cooper.”

  “Holy FREAKIN' Prince Philip, Batman. He's gorgeous.”

  “I know.” She says, slowly, chewing on her bottom lip.

  “So, what's the story?”

  She shakes her head. “He's my brother's best friend. We've known each other since we were five, but I—I don't think he even notices me.”

  “Of course he notices you! Danielle you're beautiful, smart and a wonderful friend. Thank you—”

  “Emily?” Ian calls out, knocking on my door.

  “I—“ my voice falters. My head shakes and tears slide down my cheeks. “I can't—“

  Danielle quickly stands up and walks over to my door. She opens the door a crack and then with a slight edge to her voice asks. “What the hell did you do to her?”

  “Please, Danielle. I need to talk to her.”

  “No,” she says, stubbornly, crossing her arms.

  Ian’s voice is full of desperation. “Please, just give me the chance to explain. It’s not what you think.”

  “I don’t know what to think right now, Ian.” Danielle spits back. “You have this wonderful, beautiful, talented girl right in front of you and you’re treating her like she’s some kind of plaything. Either break up with Sarah or man up. Because if you screw my friend over again I won’t think twice about punching you in the face.”

  I’m speechless.

  “Please?” Ian whispers and I almost race to the door and let him into my room. But then, I see him making out with Sarah, her fingers running through his stubbornly untidy hair. I gulp, sucking in a deep breath.

  Quickly I grab my Batman figurine Sammy got me last year for Christmas and launch it at the door. It makes a loud thud as it hits the door and then falls to the ground.