Fractured ( Fractured #1)

by Holleigh James

  I had no idea what she meant back then.

  She was standing in the doorway of the nail salon. Through the window, I could see her equally beautiful mother pointing a finger at the woman doing her nails. She kept her hair shoulder-length with upturned, bouncy curls on the bottom.

  I stopped in place, took a deep breath, and pretended I liked talking to her. Designer labels coordinated in several shades of blue and green covered her from head-to-toe. The colors made her blue eyes stand out even more than usual. Holding her hands out with her fingers expanded, she said, “I thought that was you passing by. How are you?”

  Why was she so interested in me all of a sudden? I don’t think she’d exchanged ten sentences with me since that time in the first grade, and even the ten was a generous count. “Fine, Jennifer. How are you?”

  “Oh, I’m thrilled now that school is over. Aren’t you?” I nodded and gave her my best fake grin. “Mom and I are getting the works done for my big end-of-the-school-year party tomorrow.” Everyone in our grade had been invited, including me, but I wasn’t much of a party-goer, so I responded that we had our own celebration to attend. “Do you have any plans for the summer?”

  “I think I’m just going to catch up on my reading, and maybe draw some landscapes.” It was true. I didn’t want to tell her that I’d be taking care of my severely autistic brother because my mother was too drunk to care about anyone but herself. Or that I’d be cleaning the house while Bryan was working, or hanging out with his buddy who was always trying to get into every girl’s pants. Or even that I had to cook and do laundry for my dad, who was busy being a ‘non-professional’ so he could keep my mother swimming in alcohol. She’d only think I was pathetic. Well, I was, wasn’t I?

  “Oh. A few of the girls and I got jobs as lifeguards at the beach. You should come hang out some time. There are tons of cute guys there.” The ‘girls,’ as she put it, were Liz, Tanya, and Courtney; the Beauty Apocalypse I mentioned before. They were the most popular girls in Wood Oaks, and uber-snobby. In fact, they were snob-squared. None of them needed to work. Their parents were the mega-professionals – doctors, lawyers and stockbrokers – that kept our little town on the list of most affluent neighborhoods in America; not like my dad, who struggled to keep the roof over our heads by fixing their Mercedes-Benzes and Porches. The only reason Jennifer would get a job as a lifeguard was to show off her incredible body, and flirt with every boy she knew. And I couldn’t imagine why she’d want me there, unless it was to boost her ego, knowing that I wouldn’t even attract her rejects.

  “Okay, maybe I’ll come down to the beach a couple of times this summer,” I said, offering my fake smirk again. Then I turned to continue on my way.

  Just a few steps past her, thinking our exchange was finished, she called out, “Oh, don’t forget to tell your brother to come to the beach, too.”

  Oh, now I get it. Bryan was the real reason she made it a point to talk to me. To tell me about her summer position so that he could go flirt with her. Bryan was very good looking. He’d conditioned his body to be nothing short of Hercules, and his face could easily grace the cover of GQ magazine. He’s the triplet that got all of the physical talent – looks, nice body, athletic ability. Of course, he’s the high school quarterback. It wasn’t until that moment that I realized that I was nothing more than the errand girl, given information to pass along to my socially and physically gifted brother. Hmm… Yeah, right. What was I, his social secretary? I’d pass it on, if I felt like it. I waved a hand to acknowledge her request.

  The whole Jennifer exchange dampened my mood, but it lightened when I caught sight of the supermarket sign. A small bounce took over my steps as I walked through the automatic doors and into the fluorescent lights of the bakery section.

  Gathering the items on my short list, I hurried up and down the aisles so that I could spend as much time as possible in the produce section, which was directly across from the deli counter. I fondled and squeezed every tomato and cucumber, glancing up toward the deli counter periodically for any small glimpse of him. But he wasn’t there. Without wanting to be labeled a veggie molester, I picked what I needed for dinner, and trudged over to the checkout line. My shoulders drooped, my hope deflated.

  “Next.” I shuffled in the line and looked up to see Mr. Dimple scanning the items that the guy in front of me had. My hope re-inflated, as if someone had pumped me up with air. I didn’t realize I was staring until his amazing electric-blue eyes looked in my direction. His serious mouth morphed into a smile, revealing the adorable dimple. Seconds seemed like hours as he shoved each item into the bags and sent my predecessor on his way.

  “So, we meet again.” His voice was sweet, and his smile genuine. I looked down at the items in my hands. “Draw anything nice?”

  “What?”

  “When you went to your creek? Did you draw anything nice?”

  “Oh, yeah.” I thought about how I drew him and felt my cheeks flush. Everything else poured out of my head. What happened to the whole conversation I was going to have?

  He pointed toward his chest with his thumb. “I’m Rob. Rob Cooper.” He took the first of my items to scan.

  “Amanda Stewart. Mandy,” I said, looking up. His eyes were intoxicating. They looked darker in the fluorescent light.

  “Are you a senior at Wood Oaks?”

  That was supposed to be my question. “I will be next year.” What an idiot I am.

  “Me, too.” My quizzical stare must have encouraged him to continue. “I have to repeat some classes. I had to move in with my aunt and uncle.” That shot down another one of my questions. “We had a house fire, so I’m living with them for a while.”

  “Oh.” Was that all I could say? My brain was not working. I fought to remember what I had practiced on the way to the supermarket.

  “So, can I count on you for homework help?” Rob said. Although his face was down as he packed my bag, his eyes lifted up to look at me. Only half his grin was on his face, the half with the dimple. He was so cute. I froze.

  I smiled back and almost yelled my response because I couldn’t hear my own voice over the drumming of my heart. “Do you…” I readjusted my voice. “Do you think you’ll need help?”

  “Yes, definitely, if you’ll tutor,” he said as he handed me my bag.

  I felt every drop of my blood rush to my cheeks. I looked down at my hands. “How do you know that you aren’t smarter than I am? I could be dumb.” The conversation I was offering could attest to that.

  “You look smart,” he said.

  A wave of heat enveloped me. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you that you can’t judge a book by its cover?”

  The rest of his smile appeared, and I saw a less noticeable dimple on his left side. “I’m a good judge; I can tell exactly what’s inside any cover.”

  Could my cheeks get any hotter? My heart was drumming double-time.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to embarrass you.” He focused his eyes back to my bag, and his dimply grin looked more suggestive. “Thank you for shopping with us,” he said.

  I could tell from the heat escaping from my face that I was darker than a red chili pepper. I walked out of the store wondering if I should do a whole week’s worth of shopping, just so that I could continue talking with him.

  Chapter Six

  Dad worked six days a week, 7 A.M. to 7 P.M. He’d say that it was because he chose a profession in the service business. He’d always add that he had to feed three kids—one of which was Bryan, whom he couldn’t keep up with the food bill for. His excuse for the long hours was that it allowed him time to catch up on paperwork without hiring someone else, who’d do it wrong. Heaven forbid he hire his own daughter, who managed the entire house, to come and handle the paperwork. So, it being Saturday didn’t mean anything to him; it was just another workday. Bryan had the morning shift at the burger place. I decided to offer to help at the garage again.

  “You know, Dad, I could come in for a few hours a
nd deal with the customers and pay some bills for you.”

  “That’s okay, Sweetie. Your mom and Dillon need you here.” He didn’t even make eye contact with me.

  Deflated from another rejection to do something other than babysit my drunk mother, I wandered into the kitchen. Dad’s breakfast dishes were stacked neatly in the sink. After drinking a small glass of water, I went back to lie in bed. The curtains danced in the slight summer breeze; it was hypnotic. My eyes fluttered open at eleven. I wondered if I had slept the whole time. I was sure I had dreamed, yet I couldn’t recall the details.

  After the morning rituals, I checked on Dillon. Still sleeping. It was unusual for him to sleep past 6:55. But I knew that even if he slept until noon, he’d still go to bed at nine at night. I’m not sure what was happening inside his head; but whatever it was, it made the boy sleep like a stone. Mom was in her bed, no doubt wasted. Bryan left a note on the kitchen table: “Hanging out at Jimmy’s after work. Won’t be home for dinner.” Well, at least he was considerate enough to let me know his plans.

  I was almost finished drying Dad’s breakfast dishes when Dillon came downstairs, still wearing his pajamas. “Want breakfast, Dillon?” I asked.

  “Bekfast.”

  “All right. Sit down.” I made him his fried scrambled egg sandwich, careful not to graze the edges on the extra piece of bread. I even made one for myself. We ate in silence. Although I’m not sure what Dillon was thinking, my mind was filled with Rob. I wondered what he was doing. Was he at the supermarket? Or sleeping in? Or maybe he was hanging out with his girlfriend? Did he have a girlfriend? I could be his girlfriend. Yeah right, only in my dreams.

  Trading Dillon’s plate for a coloring book and crayons, I washed the dishes and placed them on the drying rack. A quick check on Mom in her room told me she was still out cold. The sun poured in from all the windows. It would be such a waste to stay inside on such a nice day. “Dillon, would you like to go to the park?”

  “Park,” he said.

  “Okay. Get dressed.” His scrawny, ten-year-old body shot up out of the chair, and he ran up the stairs. “Don’t forget to brush your hair,” I yelled, but I don’t think he heard me.

  Ten minutes later, he returned wearing a green and blue plaid shirt and red shorts. His sneakers weren’t tied. He sat on a chair and waited for me to do it. “You know, you have to tie your own shoes.” He didn’t answer me, so I bent down and tied his shoes. “Okay, let me get my purse and we’ll go to the park. Stay here.”

  Motionless, he stayed in his seat. I wrote my mother a quick note telling her where we were going. There was a remote possibility that she would emerge from her room and be worried about Dillon. I left it where Bryan’s note had been. I took Dillon’s hand. “Ready?”

  He looked straight ahead. “Set, go.”

  We walked to the park. Of course, I slowed my pace to look through the large glass windows of the supermarket as we walked by. Dillon squeezed my hand. He wanted to go to the park, not look at the supermarket.

  The park only had one entrance/exit in the middle of the perimeter of the four-foot-high chain-link fence that surrounded it. Once inside the gate, Dillon ran to the swings first, as he always did. He expected to be pushed for no more or less than ten times. He jumped off and went down the curvy slide three consecutive times. Once he’d done that, he sat under the larger yellow slide for approximately fifteen minutes. Sometimes he’d chant something, other times he sat quietly, listening to the things playing in his imagination. Then he’d begin the cycle over again. He never ventured near the monkey bars. I don’t think he knew what to do on them.

  We stayed in the park until two o’clock. I would have stayed longer, but Dillon ran over and said, “Manny, lunch.”

  “Okay, Dill. We’ll go home, and I’ll make you mac-and-cheese.” He grabbed my hand and led me to the exit. We were three feet from the gate, when Rob entered. The sides of his mouth tugged upward when he saw me. He wasn’t alone. A younger guy, but not by much, with lighter brown hair and deep, chocolate-brown eyes, stood next to him with a football in his hands. Although there was a slight resemblance, there was enough difference that I knew they weren’t brothers. He looked familiar.

  “Mandy, right?”

  I smiled back and nodded. “Hi,” I said.

  Dillon squeezed my hand. “Manny, lunch.”

  “This is my brother, Dillon.”

  “Hey, Dillon,” Rob said.

  “He has autism,” I explained.

  Rob bobbed his head in front of Dillon’s face until Dillon fixed his gaze on him, although it was only for a few seconds. “Hey, Dillon. I’m Rob.”

  Dillon gave Rob a fleeting glance. “Rob,” he confirmed.

  “Yeah, that’s right.” He turned to the guy that was with him. “This is my cousin, Eric.” That explained the hint of similarity.

  I squinted at him and tried to recall where in the high school hierarchy Eric fit. I knew he wasn’t a junior. I’ve known everyone in my grade for at least eleven years. “I think I’ve seen you in school.”

  He nodded. “Eric Bowman. I was a freshman this past year.”

  I nodded, and remembered seeing him at a few of the football games, and the occasional pass in the halls during class changes.

  “We’re going to toss around a football,” Rob said. “Wanna join us?”

  My cheeks flushed. I’d never been invited to do anything with a guy, except for Bryan, who usually did it out of obligation, and certainly not to engage in any kind of sport. “Oh, sorry. I have to bring Dillon home to give him lunch.”

  “I tell you what,” Rob said. “I’ll buy both you and Dillon lunch if you stay. And you don’t even have to play football.”

  “Um, I don’t know. Dillon is pretty particular about his food.”

  Rob turned to Dillon and waited until he caught his glance again. “Dillon, would you like a hot dog from that truck over there?”

  Dillon stared out into space and flapped his hands. “Dog. Dog.”

  “Does that mean yes?” Rob asked.

  I couldn’t help but smile. “That means yes.”

  “Stay here,” Rob said. But he didn’t move. One eyebrow arched high on his forehead, he waited until I nodded my approval. He turned toward Eric, who was holding up two fingers like the peace sign. Then Rob walked toward the hot dog truck.

  “You’re a senior, right?” Eric asked.

  “I will be in September,” I said.

  “I’ve seen you in the hall,” he said. “Rob’ll be a senior, too. He’s behind a few credits. Maybe you’ll be in some of his classes.”

  “He said he moved in with his aunt and uncle a while ago because of a fire.” That was the only information I had about Rob, or Eric for that matter.

  “I’m not sure if he’d want me to tell you, but he had to move in with us three months ago. My uncle managed to get Rob outside before the fire got too bad, but went back in to get my Aunt Maria. He didn’t make it back out. Neither did my aunt. Rob’s been trying to hide it, but I can tell he’s hurting big time. He used to be very outgoing, but now he just stays by himself. My parents offered to go to counseling with him, but he says he doesn’t want to talk to anyone about it. He’s been so messed up. He didn’t go to school for the last three months of the semester. He needs to make up credits or he won’t be allowed to graduate.”

  “I’m so sorry.” That was a shock. I thought his family was temporarily displaced until they could find another house to live in. I didn’t know it was because his parents died in a horrible fire.

  Rob jogged back to us. My head jerked up. I felt guilty being privy to information I wasn’t supposed to have.

  “I forgot to ask, what do you like on your hot dog?” he asked me.

  “Oh, plain for both Dillon and me. Thanks.” Then he jogged back to the truck.

  I couldn’t help it. I had to ask. “Do you know how the fire started?”

  Eric’s eyes darted from Rob at the truck, to me. He
shrugged, and then leaned in close and spoke in a low voice. “All I know is that my Uncle Rick woke him up in the middle of the night and told him to get out. There was smoke everywhere. Rob said he couldn’t see an inch in front of himself. My uncle managed to maneuver through the thick blackness and got Rob to the front lawn. Then he went back into the house to save my Aunt Maria. Neither one came out.” Eric’s voice was somber. “Rob stood and waited as tons of firemen broke windows and the whole back-end of the house to get them. The blaze was bad. Most of the rooms at the back of the house were severely damaged by the time the fire department got it under control. My aunt and uncle’s room looked like something out of a horror movie. The authorities suspected arson, but there was no evidence of that. My uncle was a scientist. He developed a lot of helpful things. But he wasn’t a mad scientist. However, he did have a lot of chemicals in the basement where he did his research.”

  Rob walked toward us with a cardboard tray filled with hot dogs and sodas.

  Eric’s sudden halt in the conversation told me he wasn’t supposed to share that much information. “Mandy is a senior,” he said to Rob. His pitch was higher, more upbeat now. “Maybe you’ll be in some of the same classes.”

  “Yeah,” Rob said, “I’ve already asked for help with my homework.” The dimple appeared and my legs shook like Jell-O. “Here, Dillon.” Rob handed him a hot dog.

  Dillon took it, crossed his legs, and lowered himself onto the grass right where he was. Then he shoved it into his mouth.

  “Slowly,” I said, easing Dillon’s hand back. Then I took the spot on the ground next to him. Rob and Eric did the same and sat across from me.

  Rob’s fingers brushed mine as he handed me my hot dog. They were warm and soft. My heart rate increased. “Thanks,” I said. My body tingled. His incredible blue eyes looked into mine; the dimple appeared. The whole park disappeared. I could only see him.