by Pru Schuyler
They don’t have cameras—thank God.
I don’t have to actually break in because I have a key that I got from Brooke. I practically spend all my free time there. We gave each other a key to our houses for our two-month friendiversary.
The only unknown factor I’m facing is, where the journal is. My best guess is, her backpack in her room. So, that’s the first place I’m heading.
The whole ride home, I couldn’t get her journal out of my mind. I ran over the possible places it may be. I was worried that I’d have to avoid my mom.
But she is out for a drink with a guy from work, so that problem has solved itself. I’ll worry about her date later. I can only handle one thing at a time. And right now, the thing I’m focusing on is a little breaking and entering.
The whole walk to Brooke’s house, I casually scan for anyone watching. Thankfully, the coast is clear. I stride across the perfectly landscaped lawn and step onto their front entrance.
My heart is beating like crazy. I’ve never broken into a house before. But does it technically count as breaking in if I have a key? I turn the key and slowly open the door, stepping inside.
I call through the house, just to ease my racing heart, “Brooke, you in here?”
No answer. I exhale.
“Okay, first step done. I’m in,” I whisper to myself.
I walk across the shiny floor to the staircase, picking up speed from my pounding heart. I head up to her room.
Her backpack is nowhere in sight. It’s not on her desk or near it, where it normally lives. I scan by her bed. Nothing. I search the entire room for it, careful not to put anything out of place.
“Shit,” I murmur in frustration to myself.
Brooke, why couldn’t you just leave it there?
I go back through her room twice more before finally accepting that it’s not in here.
“Where the hell is her bag?” I shout.
Where’s the only other place it would be?
A lightbulb goes off. Her car. She probably never took it out after school.
Hope fills me back up, and I fly out of her room and down the stairs, straight to their garage. I throw open the door and scan for her car. Grabbing the keys off the hook, I bolt to it, past Cade’s Camaro and his mom’s two SUVs.
“Please, please, please,” I repeat to myself as I turn, stepping down next to her car.
I hit unlock on the key fob, grab the handle, and close my eyes, praying it’s inside. This is my last shot to get it tonight. I’m running out of time. There is no possible way I can get caught. That would be the end of a lot of things—Cade and me, Brooke and me. My heart drops at the thought.
I exhale the breath I was holding and open the door. The universe is on my side for once.
Sitting on the passenger seat is Brooke’s bag.
“Yes!” I cheer in victory.
I yank the zipper open, and lo and behold, Brooke’s brown leather journal is there.
I grab it, safely placing it in my arms. Zipping her backpack back up, I make sure everything looks just as it was before. Well, minus the journal.
I hang the keys back up and pat my pocket for my own keys. Check. I rush out of the garage and am almost in a jog when I reach their front door. I lock their door behind me and head to my house.
Her journal feels like it weighs a thousand pounds under the weight of all my guilt. But like I said, necessary evil.
Just as I shut my front door, two bright lights pour into the driveway of the Carvers’. I couldn’t have timed that better if I’d tried. My heart is still pounding from the adrenaline.
I head upstairs to further my investigation. I get in bed and take a few deep breaths before opening the brown leather cover. I hate a part of myself for invading her privacy like this, but Brooke deserves to know the truth, and I’m not stopping until I find it.
April 2
Prom is two days away. I have the perfect dress, perfect hair plan, perfect date.
Tiffany, Tiff for short, is my best friend. We decided to go with a girl group to just have fun since this is her last prom with me before she moves.
I’m going to miss her so much. I can’t even picture my life without her. We were supposed to graduate together, go to college together, and get neighboring houses.
She’s my best friend in the whole world.
I’m so glad we’ll have this one night to get all dressed up and just have one last hurrah.
I gotta go, Journal. Tiff’s picking me up for mani-pedis.
I flip to the next page.
April 3
Hey, Journal.
Short one again today. Gotta finish prepping for tomorrow.
Cade decided to throw an after-prom party, so I have to help get the house ready. Mom and Dad are leaving yet again for prom night, so we can do whatever we want.
Everyone I know says we’re so lucky to have parents who are so cool. But I’d rather have parents who just cared.
Anyway, I gotta go.
I love you, Journal.
April 17
I’m sorry I’ve been away, J. I just don’t have the energy right now to write every day.
My brain doesn’t work right anymore. It won’t stop replaying that night. Over and over. It consumes every minute of every day and night.
Tiff hasn’t noticed the shift in me, in how quiet I’ve gotten.
Am I just that good at hiding it? Maybe if I just fake it till I forget it, it will all go away.
I just want to know how he got in my room. How did he find a key? There was no sign of it being broken or picked.
I can’t even feel safe in my bed anymore. Not even in my own house.
He came into my room that night. Prom night. During Cade’s party. I think it was someone from school. They were the only people in our house that night.
But I … I didn’t even hear him come in. You want to know why? Because I put earbuds in, so I could sleep. The party was so loud.
I can’t sleep in my bed anymore. I can barely be in my room. I don’t want him to have this power anymore. I don’t want to feel controlled. I hate it.
I never saw his face. I never heard his voice.
I was asleep. And my face was smashed down into the pillow. It was hard to breathe.
I’ve never felt so helpless in my life.
I need a break from this, Journal. Talk soon.
My cheeks are soaked by the time I finish reading the entry. My entire body is in pain, like it could feel all of hers. I can’t read any more tonight. I need a break. My chest is tight. I can feel the pressure starting to build.
Needing to hear my song, I grab my phone, set repeat, and hit play on the only coping tool I have.
Images of Brooke crying into her journal float through my mind as sleep drags me under. Into the darkness I go.
TWELVE
Last weekend and most of my weekdays were spent taking care of my sick mom. She just had the flu, and I was required to be at her beck and call. She’s such a baby when she gets sick.
By the end of the week, I am so overly emotional yet completely drained at the same time. Brooke’s journal tore every fiber in my heart to shreds.
I had to slip it back into her backpack at school the day after I got it. I couldn’t have it long enough for her to get suspicious. There are some parts of her journal that have been echoing through my mind.
April 21: His clothes were damp, covered in Lemon Pledge. He never let me see his face. Coward.
May 6: My demons come every night. They drag me into the darkness, and there is no light to pull me back up.
May 21: I thought Tiff was going to say something today. I thought maybe she had seen the change. Instead, she said she needed space from me, said my negative energy was just too much for her to handle. I lost my best friend today.
July 31: Today’s the day I will forget this ever happened. I will pretend it never did. I will act like the old me until the old me takes over once again.
Th
e last entry was a week before I moved here.
A locker slams, crashing reality back around me.
“Stella!” Brooke squeals as she approaches and pulls me into a hug. “Oh my God, guess what just happened!”
She releases me, and I see her beaming smile.
She fills me all in on how Brady asked her to the fall formal after fourth period with flowers and chocolates. He said he even asked Cade for his permission first, which wins some points in my book.
The fall formal is Friday night, which is only two days away. I’ve just been so distracted with Brooke and her journal that it didn’t even cross my mind.
“You know, you should ask Cade to go,” she casually suggests, but I can hear the eagerness in her voice.
My face heats up instantly. “Wait, what? Why?” My words rush out, jumbled.
Images of Cade holding me while we dance float through my mind.
Her face drops into a don’t play dumb with me look. “Because you two like each other, obviously. Anyone in sight can see that.”
I chuckle, embarrassed at her admission. “I don’t know about that, B.” I don’t know who I’m trying to convince more.
“Okay, well, you have to get a date because we have to go to fall formal together, Cade or not. It’s the last and only fall formal we’ll ever get together.” She sticks out her bottom lip, pouting, a sadness settling in her eyes.
“Fine, I will think about it,” I promise, holding her gaze.
She smiles big, putting her award-winning pout away.
After school, I start heading to Brooke’s parking spot, so we can get a head start on this mountain of homework together. But her car is gone.
What the hell?
I scan the parking lot to see if maybe she just moved it or something, but nope, nothing. Why the hell would she leave me? This doesn’t make any sense.
A loud engine roars behind me, grabbing my attention.
Cade’s black 1967 Camaro pulls up next to me. It never fails to amaze me how much I like this car. It’s sexy as hell.
“Need a ride?” he asks, rolling down the window. His dark shades hide his eyes, but his smirk is in full view.
Then, it hits me. She’s trying to get me to ask him to the dance.
Goddammit, Brooke.
“Yes, please.” I walk around to the passenger side, sliding into the cool black leather seat.
Cade’s woodsy autumn scent engulfs me.
“Where’d she run off to anyway?” I run my fingers over the worn leather.
“I don’t know, to be honest. She said she had some errands to run and that she needed me to give you a lift home,” he replies and presses on the gas, the car responding with a loud rev, jolting forward.
I find my gaze shifting over to him. Sometimes, I forget how dark his hair really is. Against the bright blue sky, his midnight locks are so contrasting, almost breathtaking. He turns the radio up slightly, and “Favorite Place” by All Time Low hums through the speakers.
Reaching for the volume at the same time, our hands collide, and sparks shoot along my skin. My cheeks flush in response, and I pull away a little too fast.
He reaches for the volume once more, no obstacles this time. But instead of turning it up, he turns it down until there’s no sound coming out of the speakers. I’m more than confused.
He clears his throat, and his words come out a little raspy. “So, I wanted to ask you something.”
My heart skips a beat. “Okay,” I breathe out the word, focusing on the small tear in the seat near my thigh. I scratch and pull, slipping into a distracting rhythm.
“Since we have yet to pick a rain-check date, I thought of the perfect first one.” His smile grows on his face, showing off pearly whites.
My insides turn to goo as I collapse into his smile.
I open my mouth to speak, but it takes a second for the words to form on my tongue. “Okay, what do you have in mind?” My nerves vibrate through my question.
His gaze flickers to me. “I was wondering if you would do me the honor of being my date for the fall formal.” His hands twist over and over on the steering wheel.
That sounds like a lot of pressure. What if he has the same expectations Austin did?
But images of Cade in a tux bring me back to the night we met. His irresistible good looks pulled me in. But his strong, kind side hooked me, refusing to throw me back.
It’s crazy to think how far I’ve come in the few short months I’ve been here. It’s crazy how far Cade and I have come.
I mean, the first time we met, him just asking my name threw me into a full-blown attack. But thankfully, it did, or I never would have met Brooke in such a vulnerable state. Honestly, I don’t think that there is much in this world that would convince me to turn down spending a night with Cade in one of his tuxes.
I focus my gaze on him, releasing my lip from between my teeth. “Yes, I’ll go with you,” I whisper.
The air between us is magnetic, pulling us to one another. I glance his way and see the smile stretching all the way across his face, those gorgeous dimples making an appearance. When we pull into my driveway, I’m curious why he didn’t just park in his.
“Wait here,” he demands, throwing his door open.
Biting my tongue, I let him walk all the way around to my door, pulling it open for me. Don’t get me wrong; I love a good chivalrous display any day of the week, but I’ve been having a really hard time handling being told what to do lately.
He grabs my bag from me and slings it over his shoulder. I start counting our steps to calm my breathing. Being this close to him has my heart racing for all the right reasons.
One. Two. Three.
Fireworks light up my forearm as his fingertips trail my skin. His fingers dance on my wrist, snaking downward until they intertwine with my own.
What number was I on?
His smooth voice floats over me, sinking him further into my heart. “I imagine you and Brooke are going dress shopping together. Let me know what color you pick out, so we can match.”
He turns to me when we step to my door.
“Okay, I will text you.” I smile.
His black lashes frame his eyes as they pour down into me. His knee grazes the inside of my leg, sending a welcoming chill down my spine.
Ever so slightly, his hands sweep up my arms, leaving goose bumps in their wake. His fingers slide over my waist, tugging me toward him. The space between us begins shrinking as he leans down, and slowly, he places the softest, heart-wrenching kiss against my forehead. I close my eyes, reveling in the moment. But I’m a little disappointed he didn’t really kiss me.
“Have a good night, Stella. Text me. I’ll be waiting,” he whispers into my ear, spreading warmth through my entire body. He turns, walking back to his car.
The comfort he always leaves begins to fade, and an ache fills the void, one I never knew I could feel. I trudge into the house and drop my bag on the table. He literally left a minute ago, and I’m already craving for his arms to be around me again.
I shoot him a quick text.
Me: Miss me yet?
I grin and then shut my phone off so that I can focus on the task at hand. I just need to get my homework done and get some sleep tonight. Nothing too exciting.
I open my bedroom door and—
“Ahh!” I scream.
Brooke rushes me, and we fall to the floor, her bursting with uncontrollable laughter.
She giggles and squeals, “Oh my God! That little kiss he gave you was so sweet that I literally screamed from your window. Thank God it’s thick, or I totally would have ruined your moment. Tell me he asked you to the dance. Because, dear Lord, if that boy missed that opportunity, I will kill him.”
I smack her arm after she helps me up. “What the hell is wrong with you?! You scared the crap out of me!” I take a few deep breaths to calm myself from the heart attack Brooke gave me. But I can never long resist my affection for her. “Yeah, thanks for that.” I
giggle. “You don’t have to kill him, if that answers your question.”
“Eeeeek!” She wastes no time. “Okay, so dress shopping tomorrow after school. No ifs, ands, or buts. We need to find the perfect dress for each of us, and we only have tomorrow night to do it,” she rambles.
From the zoned-out look on her face, I’m not even sure she’s aware if I’m here or not. But I like seeing her get so genuinely excited about something. My heart and breathing finally find some peace.
“Okay, deal,” I reassure her.
She pulls me back into a hug, thankfully not taking us to the floor this time.
We attempt to get started on homework but fail miserably. Instead of Advanced Lit, we start a little research project of our own—dresses. We make a list of about four or five dress boutiques we want to hit tomorrow. Brooke says she prefers going to the local shops because they stock dresses no one else has. She’s honestly brilliant when it comes to all sides of fashion.
After a little more digging into the local boutiques, she heads home, and I go to bed with something to look forward to.
The next morning, excitement builds and spreads all through my first four classes. I’m really looking forward to dress shopping with Brooke tonight. The day can’t move fast enough.
After dropping my backpack in my locker, I grab my purse and run to the restroom quickly before meeting B for our usual lunch date.
I freeze on my last step before the restroom corridor. Muffled words echo lightly in the hall.
“Just shut up, Becca.”
A chill shoots through my body as the familiar cold voice fills my ears.
Becca attempts to say something, but I can’t make any of the words out.
I reach into my purse, every move cautious and quiet. I pull out the pepper spray my mom gave me freshman year. I don’t care what problems Becca and I have. Whatever is happening around this corner is definitely something she doesn’t deserve.
I close my eyes, preparing for battle. I take a deep breath and storm in, weapon high.
Callum Jones has Becca pinned against the wall, his back to me. One of his hands is holding her hands back while the other is spread over her mouth. A sick feeling hits my stomach as I take in the scene.
