The Missing Piece

by Jessica Baxter

  I sigh.

  I can't tell Mr. Allen. We'd definitely get in trouble if I did. I'm sure Mr. Allen would hear us out, but that doesn't mean he won't report us to the head. And, even if he didn't want to report us he has his family to think of. Mel briefly flashes in my mind—her gleaming smile, her hand resting protectively over her baby bump. I doubt Dean Baldwin would be very understanding if she found out Mr. Allen was keeping something like this from her.

  “He hit you,” Ian says, banging his fist against the door. “The filthy bugger hit you.”

  “Ian, please . . .” I begin, but my voice goes cold as my dorm door swings open. I shrink against the wall. Mason stares past Ian and glowers at me. His eyes piercing into my soul.

  “What the hell do you want?” He snaps. “Come here to gloat in my face? God, you really are a slut.”

  My face blazes with heat. My mouth opens and closes, slowly as I try forming coherent sentences, but all that escapes is a startled gasp.

  How dare he try and make me the bad guy?

  I tried making our relationship work, he was the one who stopped responding, who stopped answering my emails and calls. And, he has the audacity to call me a slut?

  Ian looks between Mason and me, slowly like he’s trying to solve a rather difficult puzzle, but just can’t seem to get the pieces to fit. I squeeze my eyes shut, forcing Mason from my view. At my side, my hands ball into fists. My voice is soft and shaky, but my tone is firm. “You need to leave now, Mason.”

  He ignores me, swatting my words away like a pesky fly. “At least Mads has the decency not to kiss and tell.”

  “Mads?” I ask, sucking in a deep breath. His words sting like he's slapped me again.

  “I told you, I always get what I want.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Wouldn't you like to know,” Mason says, winking at me. A chill runs up my spine. “Maybe you shouldn't tell your BFF all your dirty little secrets when she's screwing your boyfriend.”

  I hunch over, bracing my hands on my knees. Even though I had my suspicions, I wasn’t expecting them to be true. My stomach lurches back and forth quickly. Sweat beads my forehead and I know if I don’t regain my composure soon I am going to be sick.

  Ian takes a calculating step, placing himself between Mason and me. Mason’s eyes follow Ian’s movements, a superior smile plastered on his face. “You know, she could hardly wait to take her clothes off when she saw me. Practically jumped me right here in the hallway.”

  I gasp in horror. “Ian, I swear I didn't. It's not true—“

  Before I can finish my thought though, Ian slams his fist into Mason's face.

  “Ian!”

  Mason bounces back, swinging his fists and punches Ian square in the jaw.

  Ian shoves Mason back. He falls to the floor, knocking my Disney figurines down with him. He quickly recovers, lunching for Ian and I jump between them.

  “Stop it! Can we just—?”

  Mason pushes me aside, my head slams against the wall. Ian's tall figure leans over Mason as he drives him back, pushing him into the door frame.

  “Don't touch her!”

  Mason is a foot shorter than Ian, but he doesn't let that stop him from lunging forward. His fists are ready, in the boxing position and he punches Ian in the gut. Ian folds over in pain and I rush to his side.

  “Why are you here, Mason? What do you want?” I ask, glaring at him. “Go away and just leave me alone.”

  Mason wipes the blood from his mouth and then gives Ian a pitying look.

  “How does it feel, knowing she's only with you because I won't take her back? You were never her first choice,” Mason says as he reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a stack of brightly colored envelopes. “She might have told you she stopped talking to me, but it was all a lie.” He throws the stack onto the ground and at least ten envelopes scatter around Ian's feet.

  Each envelope is adorned with hearts and inscriptions of my love for Mason (Mason and Emily Forever, M + E, I love you) are written in Mason's strikingly beautiful cursive hand, but Ian doesn't know that.

  My heart shreds as I glance at Ian; his face contorted with pain and disgust.

  “Ian, I didn't . . . these letters—“ I say, reaching out for him, but he backs away and my heart breaks into pieces.

  “Is that all this was to you? A chance to shag?” He asks, refusing to look at me. His chest rises and falls as he tries to catch his breath. His fists are clenched so tightly his knuckles have turned white. “I-I trusted you.”

  “Ian, please . . .”

  “No.” He shakes his head, stands up and starts walking away.

  The stairwell bursts open and he freezes. Mr. Allen walks towards us, a smug Chelsea following closely on his heels.

  “Bloody Hell.” Ian runs his hand through his hair. “This night just keeps getting better.”

  “What is going on?” Mr. Allen asks, looking from Mason to Ian, and then his eyes land on me sitting on the floor.

  My knees are pulled to my chest and my body is shaking. If I were to look in a mirror right now, I’m sure I’d find mascara streaks running down my face. I refuse to take my eyes off of Ian. He's not facing me anymore, but I know he knows I'm watching him.

  How can he believe Mason's lies after all we've been through?

  Mason rams into Ian as he passes him on his way to the stairs. He musters all his force, but when Ian doesn't budge he spits on him instead. “You're just a lousy rebound.”

  “Where do you think you're going?” Mr. Allen asks, an incredulous look on his face.

  I take a deep breath and stand back up. And, even though I'm sure he already knows it, I have to say it aloud. “It's over, Mason.”

  “We're done when I say we're done.” He says, whipping around to face me. The look on his face sends shivers down my spine and makes me wish I was a little girl again and could climb onto my mother's lap. “See you in a few weeks, love bug.”

  Mr. Allen walks towards him, blocking his path. “You're not going anywhere.”

  “Piss off.” Mason says, pushing past him and Mr. Allen staggers backward, almost falling to the ground. Then Mason gives me one tantalizing wave, before turning on his heel and racing down the stairs. Sirens wail in the distance, but I can feel it in the pit of my stomach, somehow Mason is going to escape.

  “The Bobbies are coming?” Ian mutters, his face paper-white.

  He looks as if he's seen a ghost, but why is he so worried about the cops? He didn't do anything wrong. He was defending me, protecting me, surely they would understand that. And, if Ms. Baldwin expels us I'm sure his parents would be understanding too, unless . . .

  Oh my God . . . the press.

  If they find out the Prime Minister's son is attending school in Los Angeles they'll never let him have a moment of peace. Tabloids always exaggerate the truth and try to paint the worst possible picture of people. And, who knows what will happen to his dad's career if rumors spread about what happened.

  Can the Prime Minister be impeached?

  “Ian, I'm so sorry. We'll think of something—“ I begin, but his glare stops my thought dead.

  Maybe, glare is too generous of a word?

  He's looking at me like I'm the last person in the world he ever wants to hear from—like we swore to protect each other using the Unbreakable Vow and I just turned around and stabbed him in the back—except well, then I'd be dead.

  Although, the way he's glaring at me makes me wish I was dead so I wouldn't have to witness him looking at me this way.

  “The cops aren't coming,” Mr. Allen says, slowly. “I-I wanted to see what was going on and see if we could resolve things on our own before calling them. Who was that?”

  When neither of us answers, Mr. Allen bends down and picks up the letter. “Emily, do you care to explain what's going on?”

  I crumble to the floor. Ian won't look at me and I really want to punch that smug little smirk off of Chelsea's face.
r />   “I . . .” my voice trails off.

  “That wanker,” Ian says, surprising me. “Is—was her boyfriend. I'm not really sure, and, honestly, I don't even care anymore. I just want to go back to bed.”

  “Okay,” Mr. Allen nods. “It sounds like you've both had a rough night. Get some rest and we'll figure things out in the morning.”

  The following morning, Ian turns me down when I try making plans to go out and explore LA, claiming he has homework he needs to work on. I'm sure he does, neither one of us were seriously dedicated to our school work during the break, but it still stings.

  His newfound distance is breaking my heart. It feels like a piece of me has been stolen away, almost as if my soul has been ripped from me leaving me this lifeless, useless, emotionless . . . thing.

  I bring my head in my hands as I sit outside of the headmistress's office, waiting to be seen. I stare at the bland, gray-scale painting on the wall and shudder. The area surrounding the head's office is utterly depressing, which is doing nothing to appease my current mood.

  Ever since Mr. Allen sent Ian and me back to our rooms—waiting to make sure we went to our separate rooms—I have been trying to get a hold of Ian to no avail. Whenever I call he sends me to voicemail, refusing to accept my calls and hear me out.

  My stomach churns. How could things have gone from being so blissful and peaceful between us to this giant tangled mess of emotions and misunderstanding?

  I bit my bottom lip. What was I thinking?

  I should have broken up with Mason months again—when that first inking for Ian began. Instead, I waited until the dominoes started falling into place—until things finally felt right between Ian and me. And, now I've ruined everything.

  I should have gone directly to Mr. Allen as soon as Mason showed up. If I had we could have avoided this whole ordeal and we wouldn't be in the gigantic mess.

  The door to Ms. Baldwin's office opens and I sit up straight. Ian walks out, his face a mask of indifference. I try to catch his eye, but he refuses to meet my gaze and my heart sinks.

  He walks down the hallway and doesn't even turn back when Ms. Baldwin calls me into her office. The Morgue was eerie and uninviting, and oddly enough Ms. Baldwin's office reminds me of it. Black and white pictures of vintage clowns cover the wall making me feel small.

  I shudder as I sit down and face Ms. Baldwin. Her gaze lands on me, her lips are thinly pursed and she looks like she'd rather be anywhere else, but here.

  I know the feeling.

  Ms. Baldwin clears her throat, breaking the silence. “I'm disappointed in you, Emily. What were you thinking?” I keep my eyes trained on the floor. “What will your parents think?”

  My parents?

  My dad will fly off the handle when he finds out, but who cares? It's not like he's been father of the year as of late—all he cares about is how this will affect his image and I'm sure he'll find a way to change the story and make himself seem like a hero.

  But this, this, will break Mom's heart. She'll be so disappointed that she'll leave me here and I'll have to dress up as silly storybook characters and roam the streets of LA to make ends meet. She would understand if I told her exactly what happened, but I can't do that.

  Ms. Baldwin clears her throat. “You know, you're not helping your case by refusing to tell me what happened last night.”

  I gulp.

  She's probably right, but no one knows that I spent almost two nights in Ian's room and if I admit that we'll be in a lot more trouble than we are in now. The paparazzi would be all over the school if they found out the Prime Minister's son was involved in such a scandal.

  And, I don't need to give Ian another reason to dislike me, so I take a deep breath and say, “I told you. My ex-boyfriend showed up, some things were said and then there was a fight. Nothing else happened.”

  She shakes her head, clearly not believing a word I said, but something tells me she's not going to push the topic further. “That's the story you're sticking with then?”

  My palms are sweaty and I have to fight the urge to wipe them on my jeans. I can't let her know I feel like a nervous wreck. “It's the truth.”

  “I see.” She says, crossing her arms and leaning against the desk. Ms. Baldwin stares me down, but when I refuse to say anything else she sighs. “I have no choice then. You have two weeks of detention. Report to Mr. Allen tomorrow after school and he'll tell you what needs to be done.”

  “Detention?” My voice squeaks, as my breakfast, solidifies in my stomach. I have never had detention in my life and now this? My father is going to kill me. He's going to send me away to a crappy school on the other side of the world and I'll never see mom again!

  “Is there anything else you'd like to add, Miss Stone?”

  “No.” I shake my head.

  As soon as I leave Ms. Baldwin's office I race to Ian's room. I knock on the door, but when he doesn't answer my heart sinks. I take a deep breath. Maybe, he's just out right now, the calm, reasonable side of my brain says, trying to comfort me. He's just not home, that doesn't mean he doesn't want to talk to you anymore.

  I take a few slow, deep breathes and I'm starting to feel better when the doubtful, skeptical side of my brain obnoxiously shouts, he's avoiding you to be with her. He doesn't want to be with you anymore.

  I shake my head, no, he broke up with Sarah so we could be together. The obnoxious shrieks fill my head drowning out all of my other thoughts. It plants little seeds of doubt in my mind and makes it hard to focus on anything but the lies it spews. You almost ran back to Mason. Why won't he run back to her?

  I pull my phone out and try calling Ian, but he sends me to voicemail.

  Why is he sending me to voicemail?

  I slowly chew on my bottom lip.

  Does this mean we're breaking up? Oh. I bury my head in my hands and slump against the wall. Fresh tears slide down my cheeks. I bet he's with her right now.

  The sane voice in my mind softly whispers that I'm not thinking rationally. It tries to make me see things clearly, but all I can hear is the gleeful mocking voice of the skeptical side as it chants He's avoiding you! He's avoiding you! He's avoiding you! over and over again.

  “Shut up!” I yell, clamping my hands to the side of my head.

  A junior pokes her head outside of her room and gives me a quizzical look, but I crumble to the floor and sob anyway. I'm not sure how much time passes, but with each minute that ticks by I am immensely grateful Ian doesn't show up. Slowly, I push myself off the ground and rub my eyes.

  I am sick of crying over boys.

  My hands ball into fists at my side. I am done letting boys dictate my happiness, and, I'm definitely done waiting for my knight in shining armor to swoop in and magically erase all my problems.

  If Ian doesn't want to talk to me fine.

  As I spend the afternoon catching up on my homework assignments in my dorm, I try not to let Ian's avoidance bother me. But I can’t help myself from wondering what he's doing.

  Is he avoiding me because of Mason? I pull my American History textbook out of my backpack. No. That can't be it. He was furious when he saw what Mason did last night. And, I made it pretty clear that I don't like Mason anymore and he saw me officially end things with Mason, too.

  I close my eyes and rack my brain for some reason why Ian might be upset with me, but can't come up with anything.

  Around two, Danielle steals me away from my room. We eat gelato as we walk along the Santa Monica Pier. She chatters about her break in San Diego, her family's trip to the zoo and Cooper's band. But I find it hard to focus on what she's saying as my mind is elsewhere.

  “You're awfully quiet,” Danielle says.” “Is everything alright?”

  Maybe, I should just go home . . . Danielle had a great Thanksgiving break, and she definitely doesn't want me to burden her with my drama. I should go finish my school work, and let Danielle enjoy the last couple of hours of break.

  “Hey,” Danielle says, reachin
g out to me. She rests her hand on my arm. “Em, you can talk to me. What's wrong?”

  I slowly scan Danielle's face, looking for any trace of judgment, but all I find is her eyes filled with concern.

  “I . . . um,” I clear my throat. “No, everything is not okay.”

  She nods. “What happened?”

  I tell Danielle everything that happened over break once Mason showed up. I can't bring myself to tell her about my time alone with Ian; now that he’s not talking to me, our stolen moments together seem even more special than I imagined at first and I want to keep them for myself.

  “I thought things were going good between Mason and you,” Danielle says as soon as I finish filling her in.

  “I lied. Things kind of went south on my birthday. He sent me an email saying we needed to take a break because I wasn't committed enough to our relationship.”

  “He broke up with you through an email? AND, then showed up acting as if he owned you? What an ass!”

  “I should have listened to you before.”

  Danielle shakes her head; the sunlight streams through her blonde hair making it shiny and golden. We're sitting on the beach now, looking out at the ocean.

  “When I first meet you, you wouldn't have changed your mind about Mason if I told you he had horns and a pitchfork. Love can do that. It can make you lose all sense of reason. Sometimes it even makes it hard to see things clearly, even if it's right there in front of you. Mason is an ass. You deserve someone better than that.” She pulls me into a hug and whispers in my ear. “Someone like Ian.”

  My body tenses. Does she know?

  I quickly retrace my, words, making sure I didn't give anything away. I pull away and scan her face, expecting her to be glaring at me her eyes full of loathing, but instead, she's smiling. “I'm so sorry. I should have talked to you first. I'm a horrible friend—“

  “Em, chill. It's okay.” She looks at me, tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and sighs. “Look, I was really upset when I first found out you liked Ian. I was worried you'd ditch me the way Sarah did—”