“Why didn’t she call my cell?” I say, taking it out of my pocket and checking the missed call log. Nothing from Marnie.
“She said she knew you were at practice and didn’t want to disturb you,” Mom says, her lips pulling into a smirk.
“Sorry, Mom.”
“I had a client earlier…We were meditating,” she says.
“I’ll go call her back,” I say, taking the phone from her and putting it back in its cradle on the wall. “I’ll use my cell.”
I run up to my room and drop my bag on the floor on top of a pile of dirty laundry. I sweep my arm over the bed and push the books and papers onto the floor before plopping down on my back and pulling out my phone and calling Marnie.
“Hey, you okay?” I say as soon as she picks up.
“Can we talk? Like in person?” she asks.
“Of course,” I say.
“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes,” she says, hanging up. She didn’t even say good-bye.
I jump into the shower and try to clean up as fast as I can. With a towel wrapped around my waist, I push all the junk on the floor under my bed and into my closet. I hear the doorbell ringing and Mom talking to Marnie before I even have time to pull on a pair of sweatpants.
There’s a soft knock on my bedroom door. I’m still shirtless, but at least I have pants on.
“Hey,” I say, opening the door and holding my arms open for a hug.
Marnie lets me hug her, but she pats my back. Friend zone. Friend zone! JC’s voice echoes in my head.
“This coach from Oceanside came to practice today and invited me to spend the weekend there observing the basketball team. Isn’t that awesome?”
“Yeah,” Marnie says, pulling out of the hug and sitting down in my wooden desk chair.
“What’s up, Marn? You okay?” I ask, pulling a sweatshirt from my bottom drawer.
“I think we should take a break,” Marnie says, cutting right to the chase.
“What? Why?”
“I just don’t feel like this is going anywhere anymore.”
“What do you mean?”
“We shouldn’t be doing this thing anymore, Sam. We want different things,” she says, picking at a piece of lint on her pant leg.
“I don’t understand. How do we want different things?”
She shrugs. “We just do. I don’t know. I can’t explain it. We’re just not good together anymore,” she says.
“But we can be,” I say softly. “We just need to spend more time together. Once basketball season ends—”
“No, Sam. I’m saying this is over,” she says quietly.
“I can be better. We just need time. I can show you. We can work on it—”
“No, I think it’s best if we’re just not together anymore,” she says, still not looking at my face. “I have to go now,” she says, but doesn’t move from the chair.
I just look at her. Her curls are creeping out of her ponytail and framing her face. I want to reach out and push them gently behind her ear. Touch her skin. The hollow spot where her shoulder meets her neck. I want to make her laugh again. Quote song lyrics at her. See her crooked smile with one dimple.
She stands up from the chair suddenly and turns toward the door.
“Wait!” I say.
She turns to look at me, but her eyes never meet mine.
“Why are you doing this? You love me,” I say, realizing how pathetic I sound after the words are already out.
Her lips tighten.
“Can I have a hug? Are we still…Can we still be friends?” I say it, but it feels weird coming out of my mouth. Friends.
I reach for her and gather her in a hug that she doesn’t return.
“I really have to go,” she says, pulling out of the hug.
“But—”
“No, Sam. Just…no,” she says, walking out of my room and heading down the steps.
“Wait! Are you mad at me? Did I do something?” I ask from the top of the staircase.
She shrugs and puts her hand on the front door. “You want things that I don’t. You want a girlfriend. I don’t really…You’ve been so…” She shrugs but doesn’t finish either thought. “I guess I’m just disappointed. I thought we could make this work without labels, but…” She shrugs again and closes the door behind her.
I go back to my room and stand in front of the window. I watch Marnie walk down my driveway, her heavy white coat wrapped around her. She adjusts the frog cap on her head before hunching over to avoid the wind and shoving her hands in her pockets.
She walks to the end of my driveway without ever looking back toward my window. My breath fogs up a small circle in front of my eyes. I wipe it away as Marnie turns left and starts walking up Ace’s driveway. Only when she reaches his front porch does she turn and look back at my house.
13
TODAY
6:21 p.m.
My eyelids feel heavy, and I lean my head all the way back. My neck makes popping noises, but that doesn’t relieve any of the pain crawling up my back. I try to breathe slowly and deeply, but my chest is hurting. I feel like a hundred bricks are sitting on my shoulders and my throat.
“You feeling tired, Sam?” Michael asks.
I just nod. My eyelids are so heavy.
“You look tired,” he says.
I nod again.
“Are you ready to talk about Marnie yet?”
I turn my head to the side. I just want to go to sleep. Why won’t they let me go to sleep? I flex my wrists and shift my weight.
“I love her,” I say, my eyes closing.
“Does she love you?”
A hollow-sounding laugh forces its way out of my throat. “I think she used to,” I say.
I let my eyes close, and I feel myself drifting. Back before it got complicated. Before she hated me. Before.
The bricks on my throat get lighter. My neck feels rubbery. It’s dark and cool inside my head. I want to curl up and stay here. Where it doesn’t hurt. Where nothing burns and nothing itches and nothing has weight.
“Sam? You awake?” Michael’s voice pulls me back to the harsh light of the room.
I open my eyes enough to see Michael, his elbows leaning on his knees, the long-discarded tie in a puddle near his chair.
“She doesn’t love you anymore? What happened?” he asks.
I turn my head toward the window again and fight against my dropping eyelids. What happened? What did happen? How do you just stop loving someone?
My voice comes out in a thin rasp. “Ace.”
My eyes feel swollen now. Tiny slits that barely let in any light.
“So Marnie and Ace…Are they together?”
I shrug. My eyes are so heavy. The heaviness starts to spread down my face and pull down on my cheeks. My head dips backwards.
“Do you think we could talk about Ace, Sam? Would that be okay?” Michael says. He moves his chair closer to me and pats my knee with one hand.
Ace.
“You’ve lived next door to Ace for most of your life, right? The Quinns moved in when you were pretty young?” Michael says softly.
I look toward the window again. The sun is starting to set. I can’t see it, but I know it’s setting because the light outside is turning pink. I blink a few times, and my eyes focus a little more.
“Yeah. Next door,” I say.
“Were the two of you friends?” Michael asks.
Friends.
Mom says: “You dug in the sand together when you were five. I don’t know what happened to the two of you.”
Dad said: “You should try harder. He’s a nice kid, a built-in buddy for you right next door.”
Grandpa says: “You’re always one step ahead of that guy,” and then laughs.
“He hates me,” I tell Michael.
“He hates you? Why do you say that?” he asks, writing something in his notebook.
“He hates me,” I say again, the words clogging my throat.
“He hates you. Do
you hate him?” Michael asks.
My eyes are too heavy to keep open anymore.
14
FEBRUARY
Three Months Before
Ace’s living room is filled to the brim with the stuffed remains of furry, innocent woodland creatures. I’ve been in his house a few times, and I’ll never get used to it. Ace stands near a gray squirrel, his latest taxidermied masterpiece, with a handful of his loyal followers.
“I was only about ten yards away, but I popped this little sucker right on the back of the head. Feel. Right there,” he says to his buddies, touching the posed squirrel on the back of the head. “Got myself a red fox that trip too. Right over here.” He points to a large shelf across the room. Turkeys, a handful of rabbits, and a raccoon all stare into the living room with their glass eyes. Most are posed on a wooden stand with an engraved placard attached. “ACE – AGE 11” reads the stuffed opossum next to me.
“Got this one a couple years ago,” he says, pointing at a six-point buck head hanging on the wall. ACE – AGE 15, the placard reads. “Two hundred yards out. Boom,” he says, mimicking holding a rifle and staring through a scope.
His followers look impressed.
I hurry out of the living room as quickly as I can manage.
In the hallway between the living room and the kitchen, there’s a hog’s head on the wall. Its mouth is open like it’s screaming, and two curly horns poke out of its snout. ACE – AGE 17.
I run into Marnie in the kitchen. She’s wearing Ace’s Texas Longhorns sweatshirt and drinking something out of a red plastic cup.
“I’m celebrating!” she says, her cheeks bright pink and her eyes glassy.
“I think maybe you should slow down,” I say, trying to take the plastic cup from her hand.
“You’re not allowed to tell me what you think anymore,” she says, her words slurring together just a little bit. A wide grin spreads across her face. “You and me…we’re not together. We never really were,” she says loudly, laughing.
“It doesn’t mean I don’t still care about you,” I say. “As a friend.”
“Well, friend, I’m a big girl. Go find someone else to mother,” she says, her smile disappearing.
I watch her walk out of the kitchen and into the backyard. Ace comes through the kitchen and goes out shortly after Marnie does. He sneaks up behind her, pulling her into a bear hug. She gives him a drink out of her cup, and he slides his arm tighter around her waist.
I feel the tension start in my jaw and spread down to my shoulders. I’m crushing a cup in my hand when JC finds me.
“What up, superstar!” he says, his eyes shining.
“You too?” I say, turning to him.
“Me too, what?”
“How much have you had to drink?” I ask.
“Oh, come on. You know I don’t do that. I’m riding a postgame high! Come on! You should be out there celebrating with us! We just won state, man! What are you doing in here alone?” JC puts his arm on my shoulder and tries to steer me toward the door.
I wiggle out of his grip. “Marnie’s drunk,” I say.
JC rolls his eyes. “No she’s not. You can’t spend the whole night worried about her, Sam. She’ll be fine. And it’s not up to you to worry about her anymore, anyway.”
I look out the window and see Marnie and Ace curled up on a deck chair in the backyard. They are wrapped in a fuzzy blanket.
“I can’t believe she’s with him now,” I say, watching them.
“You got to let that go,” JC says. “Come on. I’ll introduce you to some of Jeannie’s sophomore friends. Nothing helps you get over a girl faster than another girl,” he says, pulling me toward the door again.
I let myself be led.
* * *
The fire is warm, and it’s one of the only things that’s keeping me standing outside listening to this girl, Haley. Every other phrase out of her mouth is “like, ya know,” and I want to put my hands over my ears. I’ve never been so bored in my life.
But I do have a bird’s-eye view of Marnie and Ace in the deck chair from where I’m standing with Haley Like-Ya-Know. Ace has been running his hand up and down Marnie’s jean-clad thigh for the past fifteen minutes. He buries his face in her hair.
Wildflowers. Spearmint.
My stomach drops.
“Like, do you have a date for the Winter Banquet yet?” Haley asks.
Marnie leans her head back on Ace’s chest. He kisses her forehead and twists his finger around one of the curls she has swept behind her ear.
“Cuz I don’t think I’m going this year,” Haley says when I don’t answer. “Last year it was, like, Loserville, ya know? Snooze City,” she says, bumping into my arm.
Marnie pops up on her knees and kisses Ace’s cheek before climbing out of the chair and walking back toward the sliding glass door.
“I’ll be right back,” I say to Haley.
I catch up to Marnie in the living room, just at the foot of the staircase.
“Where are you going?” I ask, louder than I intended.
“None of your business,” she says with a smirk before continuing to climb the stairs and walk down the hall toward Ace’s room.
The slider opens behind me.
Ace.
“She’s drunk,” I say to him when he closes the door.
Ace just stares at me. “Go to hell, Sam,” he says weakly.
He climbs the stairs to his room and shuts the door behind him.
I glance at my watch. Ten forty-eight.
“Hey.” JC appears beside me. “Haley’s wondering where you went.”
“I don’t know, man. Haley’s okay, but…” I say.
“Lighten up, North. She’s cute, right? It’s not like you have to marry her,” JC says, trying to pull me back to the fire.
I glance at the stairs again. Ace’s door is still closed. I look at my watch. Ten fifty-four.
“I gotta go to the bathroom,” I say. “Tell Haley I’ll be right back.”
JC’s eyebrows scrunch up, and he glances upstairs. “Bathroom?” he says.
“Yeah.”
He lets out a big sigh. “You gotta let her go, Sam.”
“I am! I have! Look! This is me, letting her go. Tell Haley I want to take her to the Winter Banquet. I’ll be right back. Okay?” I say, trying to smile.
JC lets go of my arm and heads back outside.
I head right for the bathroom on the first floor. When I come out, the house is quiet. I glance through the slider and see everyone gathered by the fire. It’s dark in the house.
I make my way through the living room, the dark, marbled eyes of Ace’s stuffed trophies staring at me. I climb the stairs.
Outside his room, I hear music. A pale light is shining onto the floor from the crack under the door.
I glance at my watch. Eleven oh six.
They’ve been in there for eighteen minutes. Eighteen minutes. So many things could happen in eighteen minutes. Marnie could have passed out. Ace could be…
I can’t think about that.
What if she passes out and gets sick and chokes?
It happens. They told us about it in health class in ninth grade.
I pace in front of the door.
I press my ear against it, but I don’t hear anything but music.
It’s been twenty-one minutes now.
Twenty-one minutes.
He could be…
What if she’s not safe?
What if he’s…
She had so much to drink.
I think she had so much to drink.
I need to get to her.
I need to stop him.
He’ll kill me.
He would literally kill me.
Like the deer and the turkey, my head will be on a wooden stand with a placard underneath. ACE – AGE 17.
But what if she’s…
What if he’s hurting her, and she doesn’t even know?
He’ll kill me. Grab his shotgun, sta
re through the scope, and boom. Ten yards out.
She’s not safe.
Twenty-seven minutes.
I have to stop him.
I hear shuffling behind Ace’s door and quietly make my way back downstairs to the kitchen. I busy myself at the sink while Ace jogs down the steps, adjusting the waistband of his pants.
He goes outside and I follow.
“Yeah, right…Pictures or it didn’t happen,” one of Ace’s cronies is saying when I get outside by the fire.
“I don’t kiss and tell, gentlemen,” Ace crows.
The crowd boos.
“But!” Ace says, his finger raised in the air. “Maybe there’s a picture or two.” He laughs.
The crowd cheers.
“Stud,” one of the guys says to him.
Ace shakes his head and takes a drink. “Nah, seriously. She’s upstairs asleep,” he says, cheeks red.
“Well, which is it, man? You put her to sleep, or you put her to sleep,” one of the guys on the football team says. Everyone laughs.
Nobody notices me sneak back into the house and climb the stairs. I open the door to Ace’s room and see Marnie sound asleep, curled up in a dark-green comforter.
“Marn?” I whisper.
She doesn’t answer.
I jiggle her shoulder a little bit. “You okay, Marnie?”
“Mmm…go away,” she says, her voice faraway and sleepy. “Just need to lie here for a…”
I watch her breathe. Count how many times her chest rises and falls beneath the green comforter.
Seven…eight…nine…ten.
Ace’s cell phone jingles on the nightstand.
Pictures or it didn’t happen…
Maybe there’s a picture or two, he said.
“Marn?” I whisper again.
The only answer is a soft snore.
A picture or two…
I grab Ace’s phone and shove it in my pocket.
I run down the stairs and almost straight into JC.
“Where’d you disappear to? Haley’s waiting outside for you,” he says, trying to steer me back to the bonfire.
“I gotta go, man.”
“What’s going on with you?”
He’s got pictures. Of her. With him. She’s not safe.
Until I Break Page 10
