Tears of the Broken

by A. M. Hudson

  “You’re right.” Emily studied my face for a second. “You do just faze out, don’t you?”

  Blinking off the trance, I looked around. The halls are empty. One by one, the students had filed into their classes, closing the plain brown doors behind them, leaving Emily and I alone in the hall.

  “Come on,” Emily linked her arm through mine, “let’s just find out where your first class is.”

  We headed toward the light at the end of the artificially lit tunnel—otherwise known as the corridor—and I noticed that the doors to the front car park mirror the ones to the football field exactly, like a square telescope. Hm, so, symmetry, ugliness and sticky floors that slow you down when you walk are the key elements to a first-class education. Way to go, Dad. Maybe send me to a reform school next time—might be less dreary than this convent-like institution.

  “Okay.” Emily bounced to a halt with her ponytail swinging. “This is the school office and your first stop on today’s tour.” She held her palm out to dramatically present the doorway.

  Forcing a small laugh, to be polite, I followed her into the quiet, muggy office. The lady behind the desk, talking softly on the phone, looked up and smiled as we closed the door. The smell of inks and warm paper resonated from a quietly humming photocopier behind the desk and caused a slight twinge of familiarity to pinch the centre of my chest. It’s calm in here, like the office at my old school.

  When a man walked through a door to the left, the aroma of stale coffee and cold toast wafted out with the sudden bellow of loud voices—their deep laughter breaking the silence. I pressed my back to the wall, feeling small and exposed.

  “I’ll be with you in a minute, Emily,” the lady whispered and held up a finger. She rested her ear against her shoulder, with a phone nestled into her chin as she scribbled on some paper. “Okay, Mrs. Rossi, I’ll let them know,” she said into the receiver. “Well, you tell him to get some rest, and we’ll see him back here next week. Okay, bye.” As she hung up the phone, the lady looked at me.

  I want to hide under the desk. I’d do it, too, but it might look a bit odd if the new kid suddenly disappears and sits at your feet.

  “Miss Apple,” Emily leaned her forearms on the tall counter, “this is our newest student, Ara.”

  “Well, hello there, Ara.” She stood up and offered me her hand. I shook it, breaking free of her frail, bony hold quickly.

  “Um, hello,” I muttered.

  “Well, it’s very nice to finally meet ya,” she said softly. “I’ll just find your file here among all this mess, and—” her voice trailed off. “Haven’t had a chance to read it yet, been so busy with all this stuff here. Ah, here we go.” She put her glasses on. “Amara—Amara-Rose?” She looked up.

  I nodded.

  “Pretty name.”

  “Thank you.” Strangely, my voice has become barely a whisper. I must’ve lost it under the desk with my courage. So not like me. “I’m, uh—I’m going to go by just Ara, though,” I added quietly.

  “Okay, sure, Ara.” She read my file for a moment. “Oh? Oh, okay.”

  I cringed at her tone, waiting for a question to follow. Emily frowned at the receptionist, and I avoided eye contact.

  “Well, um, here’s your lesson plan, and you can just go ahead and take one of those there maps ya see.” The lady pointed to a pile of oddly placed pamphlets on the counter.

  Well, that’s one thing I hadn’t counted on—a map.

  Miss Apple smiled at me as I ran my fingers over the paper-saviour and bit my lip, hiding a hint of a grin. This little piece of paper is my new best friend.

  “Now, Emily, can you show Amara-Rose—sorry, Ara, to her first class?” She took off her glasses and sat back down. I guess the question was rhetorical. As we reached the door, Miss Apple called out, “Oh, and, Amara-Rose? You have a good day now, okay?”

  “Uh—yeah. Thanks.” I managed two seconds of eye contact before anxiety stole my gaze away. I’m doing well. But my fake smile can’t hide the awkward tension boiling in the pit of my empty stomach.

  Reluctantly, I followed Emily into the corridor. She grabbed my lesson plan, making odd faces as she looked over it, while I focused on breathing the cool air of the empty, echoing halls. “Well, the worst part’s yet to come.”

  “It is?” I asked softly, taking the lesson plan and pinching the edges between my nails.

  “Yes.” She smiled as if leading to some conclusion. “Your first class of the day,” her tone rose upward on the end.

  Hm. The worst part being the first step? I think she meant that to be reassuring, or maybe a joke. In fact, I’m sure she’s trying to be friendly, but I have to force myself just to breathe right now—I can’t even think about making friends.

  “There’s no need to worry,” Emily said as we walked, “People will only stare at you for the first few weeks.”

  “Okay, well, I feel sick now.” I laughed—it was a nervous laugh.

  “You’ll be okay, really. You have Mr. Benson first and he’s nice. He’ll go really easy on you. Plus—” she stopped and turned around to face me, her eyes alight with excitement, “you have David Knight in your class.” Her cheeks went pink and she batted her lashes.

  “Is he nice?” He must be, for that kind of reaction.

  “Nice? Ara, he’s lovely.” She looked at the ceiling for a second—almost singing in praise. “He was our new kid before you came. Okay, well, not new, since he’s been here for two years, but newer than anyone else.”

  Great. So I won’t be old news until after I graduate. “So, you don’t get too many new people then?” I asked, feeling shaky as we neared the classroom.

  “Nope. So, everyone’s going to wanna meet you. They’ll all be talking about you. But anyway, you’ll be fine, and I’m sure David will just snatch you up.”

  “Should I be worried?” I’m not partial to being snatched—or talked about.

  “No way. You’d be lucky. I think he’ll just fall all over himself for this little lost lamb thing you’ve got going. Plus that dress,” she looked down at my yellow sundress, “is totally cute.”

  Relief. But Emily’s assurance that my dress isn’t too fem for school isn’t enough to ease my inability to breathe. This school may have air-conditioning, but it’s definitely short on oxygen. We stopped by a door on the ground floor and Emily looked at me, pausing with her hand curled into a soft fist in front of it. “Take a deep breath,” she said.

  The walls swayed around me as I inhaled, held it safely in my lungs and tried to ignore the giant fist in my chest, punching my pulse into my throat.

  “Okay, you can let it out.” She laughed. “You ready?”

  My head moved—I think I nodded. Then, Emily rapped lightly on the door, sending my nerves into a frenzy. Don’t get me wrong, I can handle nerves, and butterflies in my stomach are just yesterday’s breakfast, but these feel more like bats. Big black, hairy bats.

  A sound, like a chair being scraped over sticky vinyl floors, halted my recently discovered ability to breathe. The door clinked and popped open a little, revealing a shiny head with a light tuft of hair around the ears. “Emily? What can I do for you?” The man grinned with warm eyes, and his grey-brown moustache curved up over his lips.

  He mustn’t have spotted me hiding here so close to the cold brick wall, since he didn’t look at me. Maybe I’ve blended in with the yellow floors—except the colour of my dress is actually pretty.

  Quiet whispers from inside the class disturbed the empty halls. Mr. Benson’s body blocked my view of the room behind him, shielding me from seeing the students—or from them seeing me. That’s a very good thing.

  “This is Ara. She’s new.” Emily presented me in much the same way as she had the office door.

  “Ah, yes. Of course. Ara?” He turned to face me with one eyebrow raised. “Not Amara-Rose?”

  I shook my head—maybe I should’ve nodded. Who knows?

  “Well, Ara, I hope you’re a much quieter stu
dent than this lot.” He jerked his thumb to the now not-so-quiet room behind him.

  “I don’t think you need to worry about that, Mr. Benson. She’s hardly said two words.” Emily smiled, pretending to hide the whisper with her hand.

  Mr. Benson looked back at me. My heart raced as if I’d just run here. Everyone’s going to stare at me as soon as I walk into that room. I’m not ready for that—or for the quiet whispering and giggling about me. I just want to run home and not come back. Except, it might look a little immature if I spin on my heel and bolt to the end of the corridor.

  Okay, facing the inevitable it is.

  Mr. Benson straightened up a little and frowned at my shrinking posture. “Are you nervous, Ara?”

  No, I’m about to start tap-dancing, what’d you think? Jeeze. I nodded slowly. “I’ve never been to a new school before.”

  “Well,” Mr. Benson touched his chin, “I tell you what…” He looked behind him and signalled to someone, then turned back to me with a smile on his face. “I have a solution.”

  A boy stepped up before I expected him to, and a short gasp escaped through my lips—making my heart skip a beat that it will never recover. I wanted to grab Emily, who stifled a giggle beside me, and shake her for not warning me that there were gorgeous boys at this school.

  Just like the boy whose feet had faced me from behind the glass when I first arrived here, this one wore the same dark clothing, with the sleeves of his shirt rolled up over his elbows—emphasising the bulky contours of his arms. As he settled into his lean on the doorframe behind Mr. Benson, his casually dishevelled dark-brown hair fell into his eyes, and he swept it back with his hand, smiling at me as he did.

  Any hope of breaking eye contact withered away with the hold of that smile, how his dark-pink lips sat closed and turned up sharply in the corners, and his gaze fixed mine in place. He seemed completely unfazed by my totally obvious ogling.

  My lips parted and I felt myself rise onto my toes—wishing I could shove Mr. Benson out the way and steal a kiss from this boy.

  He must think I’m so rude. I’m sure my skin is going to give-way soon and drop my bones all over the floor, and I don’t even know his name.

  “Ara? This is David,” Mr. Benson said, obviously noticing my failure to compose myself.

  Time came rushing back in wave of hazy volume. I know I need to close my mouth, but what can I do? I’ve never seen anything like him before.

  David’s smile changed then, became more of a friendly greeting, and as his emerald-green eyes lit up, two dimples showed in each of his cheeks. “Hello, Ara.” He nodded, almost like a bow.

  Breathe, Amara-Rose, just breathe. I lifted my hand a little to wave. No words came out, though. Pathetic.

  “Ara, David is my best student,” Mr. Benson said, then looked at the boy. “David?”

  “Yes, sir?” David stole his gaze away from me, his head turning before his eyes left mine. He shoved his hands into his pockets and his shoulders lifted.

  “Ara’s a little worried about coming in late to a new class,” Mr. Benson said. “Would you take her to the library and fill her in on this week’s lessons, please?”

  A sudden wash of relief brought my body back to life. I want to hug Mr. Benson for being so considerate. David smiled at me again. “Of course, sir, it would be my pleasure.” His voice ran through me like milk for my soul, liquid with maturity, yet somehow kind of weightless.

  My cheeks flushed hot. I looked down at my feet and chewed the inside of my lip to stop from grinning like a little girl in a candy store.

  “Okay. Well, Ara, you take care, and I’ll see you in class tomorrow.” Mr. Benson smiled and patted my shoulder.

  “Thank you,” I said, looking him directly in the eye this time.

  “You are more than welcome.” He grinned and turned to face the boy. “David, you can get your stuff.”

  For a split second, as David and Mr. Benson walked away, I braved a glance into the room of dread—seeing only a desk and a whiteboard. Looks normal enough. I’d imagined fiery pits and wailing souls—guess I was wrong.

  I’m glad no one can see me from here. If I’d had to walk in there right now and meet my panel of judges—or peers—I’m not sure what I would’ve done. Being the centre of attention has never been my forte. Well, not when I don’t want to be. I can’t even imagine what it would’ve been like if I’d seen David for the first time in front of a room full of people. Embarrassing.

  Emily squeaked, bouncing up and down on her toes when I looked at her. I actually want to squeal, too. She was so right. He is so hot!

  “Oh, my God. Ara, you’re so lucky,” Emily whispered loudly, holding her hands out like spirit-fingers.

  I know I’m lucky. Not only am I saved from the anguish of walking in late to my first class of the day, but also, I’m going to sit in the library for forty minutes with a really cute guy. Although, the trouble is, now, I have to be alone with a really cute guy—for forty minutes. Yikes! “I don’t feel so lucky, Emily.”

  “Trust me, Ara. You’re going to love David. He’s so sweet.” She rolled her head to one side and her smile dropped for a second. “Well, he’s sweet to some people. But I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

  “Does he have a girlfriend?” I asked. Hm, maybe that was a little too obvious.

  Emily smiled widely and leaned closer. “He—”

  “Sure thing, Mr. Benson—” David’s smooth, mature voice filled the hallway a second before he stepped out of the classroom, carrying his bag and a stack of books. He looked at Emily as she straightened up and tried to hide the conspicuous smile on her face. “Everything all right, Emily?”

  “Mm-hm.” Her eyes held the humour of near-embarrassment. I don’t think he’d be too sweet to me if he found us gossiping about him.

  David looked at me then and studied my face carefully with slightly narrowed eyes—as if maybe he was trying to figure me out. I wish him luck.

  “You ready?” he released the words in a soft breath.

  My lips pressed together and I managed to nod. Somehow, staying with Mr. Benson seems less scary right now. I’m going to make a fool of myself in front of this boy—I just know it.

  “Don’t worry.” Emily placed her hand on my arm. “David will take good care of you.”

  “She’ll be fine, Emily,” David said.

  He’s reassuring her? I’m the one about to spill the contents of my breakfast all over the cheap, yellow vinyl.

  “Okay, well. Have fun, Ara, and…I’ll see you at lunch?” she asked, her eyes round and hopeful.

  Terrific, I’ve just made a new friend without even trying. I’m not sure how I feel about that yet. “Thanks, Emily, and yeah—sure, I’ll see you at lunch, then.”

  Emily beamed. She spun on her heel and winked at me, mouthing what looked like “He’s so hot” as she fanned herself. I forced a small smile, which broadened when David turned around and caught her juvenile display. She quickly pressed her hands behind her back and giggled as she disappeared around the corner, leaving David and I completely alone.

  I forced myself to look up from my shoes at the tall, beautiful boy, and my nerves bubbled into nausea. What now? I don’t have anything to say. I sat for hour’s last night scripting topics for just this sort of occasion, but it’s all gone—escaped me completely. All I can find is a white cloud of wordless stupor. I’m without ammunition, alone in the wilderness, with a lion.

  “Come, I’ll show you to the library.” He started walking.

  Frozen still, for a second I just watched him walk away, my shoulder pressed firmly to my new friend, the wall. He’s very well-built for a teenager. My guess is that he must work out at the gym—a lot. But he doesn’t act like a football jock or anything. That might’ve been my first assumption for a guy that’s this—hot. But his eyes are too gentle and clear. I can almost see right through them into what looks like a kind, mature, and strangely enough, well-brought-up boy. Weird.

  “Are
you coming?” David turned around and smiled—walking backward.

  This world is unnaturally cruel, yet so unbelievably giving. Of course I’m coming. I’d be crazy not to, even if my nerves are itching to break through and force me into a nervous, girly little giggle. I bit my tongue. Hard. My cheeks burned and the heat spread to my ears, but my feet obeyed my heart—shuffling one over the other until we reached David, who strolled along silently, focusing on the path ahead.

  Should I talk? Or should I wait for him to say something? This feels all wrong. My heart is beating too fast, and we aren’t exactly walking with exertion, so what’s with the rapid breathing? I’ll just put it down to nerves. There’s no way I’m going to admit that this one beautiful-looking boy, that I just met, can cause this kind of reaction in a level-headed, strong-minded girl like me. No way.

  I have to think of something to say. This silence is turning into the uncomfortable sort. I just don’t know what, though. I’m no good at being new.

  “What were you focusing on in your last school—for English studies?” he asked in that same soft, silky tone as before. It sounds like his voice is made of butter, like, if I could swallow it in one gulp, it wouldn’t even touch the sides of my throat.

  “Hemingway,” I murmured.

  He nodded. “That’s pretty standard. Do you read much?”

  I shook my head. “Not anymore.”

  He went quiet. I want him to keep talking. I just don’t want to answer any questions.

  “Why not?” he asked with a sassy grin.

  “Ah, no reason. What do you like to read?” I fumbled over my words, shuffling the question in his direction.

  He laughed to himself. “Dracula, Jamaica Inn, Pride and Prejudice. I actually read quite a bit, though, not so much anymore, myself.”

  Why didn’t I just tell him I still read all the time? It would’ve been easier than having him wonder why I don’t anymore. “Why not?” I asked, curious about his reasons. Also curious as to why a seventeen-year-old boy would admit to reading Pride and Prejudice, of his own free will.