The Missing Piece

by Jessica Baxter

  How long have I not been paying attention?

  I cannot look at him again. I bore my eyes into the screen and try my best to focus on Ralph and the little girl. Ian shifts in his chair again, and I peek at him through my hair. I’m startled to find him staring at me. I blush and quickly turn away.

  “Emily?” He leans over and whispers in my ear. My heart is soaring and I’m afraid it will leap out of my chest if I don’t calm down soon.

  Focus, Emily, focus.

  I take a deep breath, it feels loud and unnatural like I’ve been holding my breath for the last ten minutes, and who knows maybe I have. “Mhm?”

  “Do you like it?”

  Like what? His leg resting against mine?

  I can’t concentrate; he can’t be asking if I like his leg resting against mine, right? That wouldn’t make sense. He has to be talking about the movie. I can’t speak, so I nod my head instead.

  I risk a glance at Ian and find him staring back. He’s giving me the look again and I can’t breathe. I’m thankful for the darkness, at least he can’t see me blushing. I turn away first, and then I feel him shifting back towards the screen.

  I peek at him one more time. He’s smiling, my heart soars again. His fingers brush mine, hesitantly. A tickling sensation dances across the tips of my fingers. He reaches for my hand; I don’t hesitate. I don’t pull back, I just let my fingers slide through his.

  Holding his hand feels natural and right, like curling up in bed with a good book.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “Where’s Sarah?” Calliope asks, pushing aside the black and orange streamers dangling from the entryway of Spirit Halloween.

  Danielle picks a metallic candy dish shaped like a skull off of the shelf. “Didn’t she say she’d meet us at four?”

  Ian shrugs his shoulders.

  “Don’t know.” His voice is curt, clipped. My other friends don’t seem to notice, but in the last few weeks I’ve come to know Ian like the back of my hand, so I know he’s lying.

  “Seriously?” Calliope stares at him. “She’s ditching us again!”

  “Chill, Cal.” Danielle rolls her eyes. “She’s probably just caught in traffic.”

  Calliope laughs bitterly. “Why do you keep making excuses for her? Am I the only one who sees that she’s changed?” She throws her hands up in the air. “She thinks she’s so much better than us. It’s been this way ever since she’s graduated.”

  Ian clenches his jaw. He takes a deep breath and then slowly exhales through his nose. The air is so brittle it feels like it might snap. “It’s com—”

  “No, Ian. It’s not complicated.” Calliope shakes her head, outraged. “She hangs out with you EVERY night, but she can’t make time for us? Stop pretending everything is fine.”

  I know this isn’t true, but it still causes my heart to sputter. Ever since my birthday, a week ago, Ian has sat next to me during every meal. He teases me about my obsession with Disney, Starburst wrappers and asks about my favorite books. Plus he says the sweetest things to me, with that beautiful British accent.

  How can he possibly still want to be with Sarah?

  She's awful.

  I glance at Danielle. She’s biting her bottom lip, but other than that her expression remains neutral. After I told Danielle Sarah attacked me that night after the movies, I thought she would push me away and hang on Sarah’s every word, but her allegiance has been only to me. She’s seemed to assume the role of Switzerland, trying to keep as much distance between the two of us, and when those rare occasions arise that Sarah and I have to be in the same room she tries to make it as civil as possible.

  Danielle’s gaze meets mine, her eyes are pleading, asking for permission. I mouth no and duck my head. She might think telling our friends about the attack will help, but I don’t want to be the reason their friendship falls apart.

  Calliope's voice is barely a whisper. “We never hang out anymore.”

  “That’s not true. We do loads together,” Ian says. “We just watched Hercules a few nights ago.”

  My face flushes red. Correction. I watched Hercules with Ian a few nights ago, but no one else was there. I look down at my shoes. I haven’t been blowing my other friends off . . . I have been busy with homework and sometimes Ian will just show up at my dorm. And, it’s not like any of my other friends have been begging me to hang out with them either.

  “We never watched Hercules together.” Calliope sounds like she might cry. “We used to be so close. All of us: Liam, Danielle, Sarah, you and me. What happened?”

  I can’t help but notice she excludes me from the group and it feels like a pound of mortar has been poured in my chest.

  Ian refuses to meet her gaze.

  “Calliope,” Liam’s voice is reproachful like he’s correcting a child. “Can we please not do this?”

  “Whatever.” She shakes her head outraged and starts to storm off. Danielle grabs her hand and pulls her towards the junior section.

  “Wait for me,” I call after them, once my feet unfreeze.

  I’m just close enough that I can hear the break in Ian’s voice. “She-she found out about Sophie.”

  Sophie . . . as in Ian's sister?

  I glance back. Ian runs his hand through his hair. He's shaking uncontrollably. Curiosity gets the best of me, and before I can stop myself, I duck behind a pillar. Slowly, I peek around the corner.

  Liam looks terrified and worried. “How?”

  The anguish on Ian’s face is unbearable. “Does it matter?”

  Liam clasps his arm around Ian’s shoulder and pulls him into a hug. “It’s going to be okay, mate. We’ll figure this out.”

  Ian sits down on a nearby bench. “It wasn't always like this. Sarah used to be fun and didn't have a care in the world, but something happened last summer . . . I tried being there for her, but whenever I asked what was wrong she'd just shoot me down and push me away.” He buries his head in his hands. “What happened?”

  “I don't know,” Liam says, sitting next to Ian. He clasps his arm around Ian's shoulder. “Remember when we went to Disneyland and went on the Haunted Mansion ride?”

  “The girls were terrified," Ian says. "Every time we went around the corner they jumped, expecting something to jump out and grab them.”

  “Remember that spunky little seven-year-old sitting in the cart with us?”

  Ian laughs hard. “He insisted on holding the girls' hands, saying he would keep them safe.” He sighs. “We had a lot of fun together.”

  A wave of guiltiness engulfs me. I shouldn't be here, eavesdropping on a conversation that wasn't meant for me. I make a beeline for the nearest clothing rack and run my fingers over a thin, red and white polka dot dress. It looks like something Minnie Mouse would wear.

  I can just barely make out Liam's voice. “We did, but maybe things aren't working with Sarah anymore because . . .” his voice trails off and the hair on my arms stand up like it does when someone is staring at you.

  Although my heart is hammering in my chest and I want to turn around and see if Ian is staring at me, I don't. “Someone better has come along,” Liam says.

  Is he talking about me?

  When I reach the junior section, my heart is still beating rapidly in my chest. Danielle and Calliope are conversing in hushed tones. I hear my name more than once and glance at Danielle.

  She shrugs her shoulders.“She needed to know.”

  “I’ve been such an asshole,” Calliope says. She won't look at me. “Why didn’t you tell me Sarah attacked you?”

  “Uh.” I clear my throat. “I guess I was worried you wouldn’t believe me.”

  “What?” Calliope glances at me, bewildered. “Emily, you’re one of my closest friends. Of course, I believe you.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah,” she says, nudging my shoulder. “Now let’s go find some swooooon worthy costumes.”

  We head to the back of the store, where the Disney costumes are kept, leaving Li
am and Ian, who are still standing at the front of the store, deep in conversation. Ian's hunched over, his shoulders trembling.

  I hate her.

  My fingers run mindlessly over the soft, satin Princess dresses. My eyes refuse to focus on the things in front of me, instead, everything blurs together. I don't know what Sarah's holding over Ian, but I'm certain whatever it is must be the reason he's still with her. She's malicious and mean and acts as if she lost her heart to the Huntsman, and, Ian, he deserves so much better than her.

  I squeeze my eyes shut, but I can't get the heartbroken look I saw on Ian's face moments ago out of my mind. His face twisting in pain as if he just witnessed everything he cares about shattering into a million shards, and he was unable to do anything to stop it. My teeth clench tighter tightly.

  Does she even care that she's hurting him?

  The few times Ian's opened up to me about his sister he never revealed much. I know she's younger, that her name is Sophie and that her favorite princess is Aurora. A tear trickles down my cheek. Even though Calliope and Danielle are a few rows away, I quickly wipe the tear away before either of them notice.

  What can Sarah possibly have on Ian that's making him stay with her?

  Slowly, I release a sigh. It wasn't that long ago that I was entranced with Mason . . . it wasn't until my so-called-best-friend let it slip that she was talking with my boyfriend behind my back that I was able to really see Mason for who he was . . . for what our relationship was . . . maybe Ian needs time to really see Sarah, too.

  “Found it!” Danielle says, holding up the blue dress Ariel wears during the “Kiss the Girl” scene. She strolls over to me, a giant grin on her face, and then hands it to me.

  “I'll put beach waves in your hair and you'll look just like Ariel.” Calliope says, pulling a dress off the rack. She smirks and then walks over to us. “We're going to be the cutest Disney princesses at the ball.”

  Calliope hands Danielle a gorgeous light gold dress like the one Belle wears while dancing with the Beast. The skirt is layered with gathered fabric that rises and falls like the ripples of an opera house's curtains. Gold flowers are embroidered above the hems of each layer. A pair of sleek golden gloves complete the ensemble.

  “Wow.” Danielle wrinkles her nose. “That's a lot of dress. Are you sure I'm going to be able to walk in this thing?”

  Calliope rolls her eyes. “You'll be fine.”

  “So,” I bounce forward on my heels. “Which princess are you going as?”

  She glances at me apologetically, before unfolding a simple white dress. “Okay, so I know Princess Leia isn't what you were thinking of when we said 'Disney princesses,' but Disney bought out Lucasfilm and Liam is really excited because then he can be Han Solo.” She says, crossing her arms defiantly across her chest. “And, I really love Star Wars.”

  “Okay.”

  “You're not going to fight me on this?”

  “No.” I shake my head. “Princess Leia is a badass.”

  “What?” Danielle clenches her teeth. “Does this mean I can ditch the dress too?”

  I shrug my shoulders, but before I can respond Calliope says. “Leia wears a dress, it's just a lot more simplistic than the dress you've chosen.”

  “Well, if I knew there were exceptions to the rule I would have picked someone else.” Danielle snaps back, pulling a Snow White dress with a short tutu skirt off the rack, which Baldwin Hill would never let her wear in a million years.

  “I'm trying this on,” I say, shaking my head and laughing. I don't care if Danielle changes the dress, but something tells me Calliope is going to push her to go as Belle just so she can get a picture of Danielle in a dress. Besides, I doubt Cooper will have any objections.

  I reach the changing room counter. Sitting on the other side is a girl who doesn't look much older than me. Her eyes never leave the book she's reading as she hands me a tag to put on the door handle with a big black one printed on it. I grab it and go to an empty changing room.

  “Emily?”

  My heart thumps loudly in my chest. Ian is walking towards me, towards the fitting rooms, where he shouldn't be. The employee at the counter is completely oblivious to us. She blows a gigantic bubble with her pink bubble gum, turns the page of her book and looks up at us lazily, before focusing her eyes on her book again.

  “Yeah?”

  Ian shoves his hands in his pocket. “Never mind.”

  “No. What?” I ask, slowly tracing the outline of the one printed on the door tag.

  “Nothing.” He looks around the store slowly, refusing to bring his eyes back to mine. His tone is definitely not nothing, something is up and I want to know what it is.

  I scan his face. His eyes are closed, his face is flushed and his breathing is strained. I wait for him to say more, but he doesn't.

  “Um, okay,” I say, wrapping the ribbon on the back of my dress slowly around my finger, before turning back to the fitting rooms.

  Before I can open the door Ian grabs my hand. My heart erupts as he pulls me closer to him, and suddenly I'm aware of how strong and sexy his vanilla and oak tree cologne smells today. His body presses against mine; my brain forgets how to function.

  Breathe. Em, you need to breathe.

  A ragged, shaky gasp escapes my lips. I haven't been this close to Ian since my birthday.

  “Emily?” His face is so close to mine. I need a breath mint! Why is his face so close to mine? Not that I mind his face being this close, it's just on the verge of making out close and we definitely can't be doing that.

  Can we?

  Tingles run down my spine when he says my name again. “I like you.” He whispers into my ear. My body turns to mush. What did he say? And, where have all our other friends gone? It's like we're the only people in the store. “And, I don't mean as a friend.”

  “Uh . . . um. What about . . . ?” My voice trails off. Sarah's name weighs heavy and unspoken as I try to process what Ian's saying.

  He likes me, and not as a friend.

  Ian, breathtakingly beautiful Ian, likes moi, like really likes me, and I don't know— Wait, I shake my head, stubbornly. Images of Sarah wrapped tightly in Ian's arms fill my mind and my stomach twists.

  If he likes me, why is he still with Sarah? And, if he doesn't want to leave Sarah, why even bother bringing it up?

  The image of Sarah and Ian, alone together in her apartment, doing who knows what, while I sit in my room looking forward to our next movie night intensifies. I squeeze my eyes shut, wishing the image away.

  Ian's fingers brush lightly against my cheek. “Things haven’t been right with Sarah and me, not since I met you.”

  “Uh—”

  “All we do is fight, and everything seems so natural and at ease with you.”

  “Ian—”

  He cuts me off. “Do you like me?”

  “Well, yes, but—”

  My phone rings. I jump. My father's number flashes across the screen and I look at Ian apologetically. I haven’t told my friends about my mother’s cancer, there just hasn’t been a reason too, and it’s not like I really like talking about it. But, I can’t risk not answering the phone and something being wrong. “I have to take this.”

  Betrayal, anger, and confusion pass across Ian’s face all at once, and then he does a full-bodied shrug and walks away.

  I press the phone against my ear. My father’s voice comes out rushed, in one breath. “Emily? You need to sit down.”

  “Dad, what’s wrong?” My voice is loud and breathy; it feels unnatural. Ian pauses and looks back at me. His face full of concern, but all I can think about is what my father is going to say next. “Is mom okay?”

  “Of course she isn't okay!” He shouts into the phone. “Do you think I'm calling to tell you Sammy split his milk? Damn it, Emily. Be rational.”

  The air around me thickens. This isn't happening. I dig my nails into my palm. “Dad, what happened? I want to come home. I'll talk to my teachers and see if
they'll let me submit my assignments online—”

  “You're not coming home.” My dad growls on the other end.

  “What?” My voice comes out an octave higher. “Dad, t-this isn't my fault . . . I need to see her. I need to be with mom.”

  “If you hadn't hounded her so much the tumor wouldn’t have come back and none of this would have happened.”

  His words slam into me like a ton of bricks. What does he mean? He’s acting like I pestered my mom when I was home, instead of looking after her and taking care of her while he was away on business trips and doing who knows what else.

  Tears sting my eyes and my voice comes out wobbly. “Please dad . . . .”

  I can feel my friends gazes on my back, but I don’t turn around to face them. My heart is cracking in my chest, breaking into tiny pieces as my dad continues to shoot me down after each plea. Finally, he snaps causing me to go silent.

  “You're not stepping in this house until you can show some gratitude for all that I've done for you.” His voice rises. “I sent you to Los Angeles so you could have a chance of getting into Harvard and you’re showing up to your classes late, acting like you don’t even care about your future.”

  He takes a deep breath and I use the opportunity to cut him off.

  “Mom needs me there.” My voice is pleading like a little child's asking to stay up and watch one more TV show, but my father refuses to budge.

  “You can see her over Thanksgiving break.” He says, and then the line goes silent.

  My phone slips from my hand. The room starts spinning and I can’t keep my balance. My hands grip the changing room counter—the only thing keeping me from collapsing to the ground.

  The blood drains from my face.

  This can't be happening. How is this happening?

  I feel a panic attack coming on and start gasping for air. I can't breathe. My throat feels like it's being crushed tighter and tighter like a Boa Constrictor is slowly squeezing the breath from me. I need to calm down. Ariel, Aurora, Belle, Cinderella . . . My body crumples to the floor.