Another Little Piece of My Heart

by Tracey Martin

  “So do you know him, too?” Nikki asks. “I thought he was a friend of your cousin’s friend, but then how would he know you don’t like sci-fi?”

  Nikki’s more perceptive than I’ve given her credit for. I wonder if anyone else asked that question.

  My hands clench into fists. “He doesn’t know that, but thanks for the info.”

  I storm up the stairs and retreat to my room, where I hurl the pillow from my bed against the wall. Is this some kind of revenge? Once Claire’s family rejected him, so now he’s turning my family against me?

  Oh, no. I will run him over with my red Miata before I let that happen. I can see the tabloid headlines now: “That’s Car-ma, Baby.”

  My sense of humor does not appreciate being called upon when I’m angry.

  Downstairs, my aunt yells up that everyone’s leaving, then the door shuts. The emptiness inside this giant house threatens to reduce me to tears.

  I can’t let that happen so I retrieve my pillow and squeeze the life out of it. There’s no crying in war, and that’s what this is. I might have struck first by dumping Jared, but I sent a million texts and left even more voice mails trying to take it back. Instead of responding, he escalated things into a whole freaking album that might as well have been titled Claire Winslow Is the Bitch Who Broke My Heart. Now I’ve tried to be civil and ignore him—to be the bigger person. But once again, he insists on striking. So if that’s the way it has to be, never let it be said that Claire Winslow allowed herself to be a doormat.

  I grab my phone and call Zach. It’s worth a shot and I haven’t returned his text yet.

  He picks up on the second ring. “Claire. Hey, what’s up?”

  “Not much. I’m melting and looking for something to do.” I figure that ought to hit a nice medium between too forward and too passive. I have to get out of this house and prove I have a life every bit as fulfilling as Jared’s.

  “Yeah, tell me about it. I’m trying to finish up a paper for class, but my brain might be overheating. Want to come over? My roommates are all gone, and I’m ready to quit.”

  I flex my knuckles. “Actually, I was thinking of going somewhere chilled. Like maybe to the movies.”

  Zach takes the bait. Five minutes later I have plans to meet him at some theater a couple towns over. He claims it’s the best, closest one, which means there’s a good chance that’s where my family and his roommates went. Bonus. If I can’t avoid Jared—and fate has decreed that I can’t—then making him unhappy is the next best thing.

  I dash into the shower and mentally take a tally of my wardrobe as I wash the sweat off. I’m not sure this movie thing counts as a date, and I don’t want to give off the wrong impression, but I don’t want to look stupid either. Then again, it’s not like I have a whole closet of clothes to choose from here.

  I decide at last and apply some glitter around my eyes. The dye in my hair has faded in the sun and is starting to look better—more punk than total freak.

  On the way out of the house, I raid my aunt’s stash of energy bars for dinner, planning to eat as I drive. I am a model of efficiency. I also put the Miata’s top down so the wind dries my hair.

  Zach gave me directions to the theater, which is in a town called Newington up I-95. I leave extra time in case I get lost, but the shopping center is easy to find even without the GPS. I finish my prepackaged dinner and enter the theater’s overpowering AC.

  Despite it being the middle of the week, the theater’s packed. Obviously, lots of people had the same brilliant idea of going somewhere chilled. And chilled it is. I have ten minutes until Zach’s supposed to arrive, so I check the marquee, arms wrapped around myself for warmth. We never picked a movie, just figured we’d find something that sounds okay.

  Recon—the big sci-fi flick that I assume is what my family’s seeing—plays in two theaters. One showing started five minutes ago. The next showing starts in twenty. Pacing, I scan the marquee for anything else promising.

  Not that I hate sci-fi. That was yet another Jared lie about me. I simply never geeked out over Star Wars or Star Trek the way he did.

  To my right, the theater doors open and shut continuously. I keep watch, waiting for Zach, but it’s not Zach who enters when the doors open next. It’s Jared and Hannah with the rest of the group in tow.

  Funny how earlier I’d been hoping to run into them and ruin Jared’s plan, and now that they’re here, I want to hide. The sight of Jared makes my stomach turn. I stuff my hands in my pockets and slip into the crowd, but I’m too late.

  “Claire?” Hannah’s voice rises over the din.

  I cringe. “Hey.” There’s no point in acting surprised. They had to know I’d find out where they went.

  She squeezes my arm. “Yay, I’m glad you came.”

  “Sorry? If you guys wanted me to come, you could have, you know, asked.”

  “Well, you always come home from work so tired. And April said you don’t like sci-fi, and we wanted to see Recon. I guess we should have sent you a text. Sorry.”

  My sister’s standing behind the group, and her eyes open wide. “April said? Hey, don’t be—”

  I glare at her and shake my head ever so slightly. She falls silent.

  Jared also lets out an almost unnoticeable breath and shoots a worried glance at my sister. Awesome. I wish there was a way to let him know that I’m not keeping my mouth shut for his benefit. For that matter, I’m not sure why he cares if anyone finds out about our history, unless it’s because he thinks it would bug Hannah. I doubt it, but I hope the threat of me revealing everything makes him uncomfortable.

  “It’s not a problem,” I say, breaking the awkward silence. “Feel free to ditch me whenever. I can take care of myself.”

  That came out more bitter than I intended, but oh well. Zach enters the theater at that moment and I have my reprieve. I wave to him.

  Hannah smacks me in the arm. “You didn’t come here to meet us? You’re meeting him?”

  “It was a tough choice, but you did leave without me so I made other plans.”

  There’s no way to avoid everyone talking, or the expectation that Zach and I will hang out with the others later. But for now we manage to grab seats by ourselves. Still, I can’t focus on the movie, and as soon as the credits roll, I excuse myself into the nearest bathroom.

  April follows me. “I’m not the one who said you wouldn’t want to come. It was Jared. He said it quietly, and I repeated it.”

  I dry my hands on my shorts. “Yeah, don’t worry about it. Why didn’t you call me though?”

  “I figured you wouldn’t want to come if he was there.”

  “But you don’t care?”

  April reapplies her lip gloss. “Are you kidding? I didn’t want to watch that stupid movie, either, but it was that or get stuck going out with Dad and Nikki. I don’t think the others wanted me to come, but there’s no way I was staying behind. They can kiss it. Jared especially. He keeps giving me nasty looks.”

  “Yeah, well. You’re a Winslow. Guilt by association.”

  “Yeah, I’ve listened to his stupid album. I know you’re trying to keep things quiet, but do you really think Hannah would be throwing herself at him if she knew? It would be fun to see how she reacts.” April smiles wickedly. “We could take down Nikki and Jared both this summer.”

  Nikki’s a leech defiling my mom’s place in the house. That’s why she has to go. Jared’s situation is more complicated. Anything I do could end up as fodder for his next crappy song. Or worse—with my name revealed in the tabloids. Come to think of it, that’s probably the real reason Jared is keeping hush about our past. He’s done his best to keep a low gossip profile since the beginning.

  “For my sanity, don’t,” I whisper as we leave the bathroom and approach the group. “And for the record, I think Hannah
would slobber all over him anyway because that’s what Hannah does.”

  April makes a sour face. “Fine, but it’s such a wasted opportunity.”

  We cross the lobby, and I plaster on a smile, stopping next to Zach. “Well?”

  “Ice cream?” Zach asks. “We’ve been making plans while you were gone.”

  “Sure.” It’s not the healthiest way to round out my dinner, but I’ll eat anything at this point.

  I assumed we’d head to the chain store I saw on the way in, but Lisa and Mike want to go to this local place that they promise has fabulous ice cream. So we all pile in our cars and head out. April chooses to ride with me this time, and I feel guilty for doubting her loyalties earlier. To make up for it, I let her choose the music. It feels good but strange to have her on my side.

  The place Lisa takes us to is a dinky shack surrounded by tables, but their menu is huge. It’s also doing good business. I stand in line behind Jared, and I know before he orders that he’s getting a frappe with Peanut M&M’S in it. It’s so predictable it’s sad.

  I get chocolate with peanut butter cups—for the protein, since this is my second quasi-dinner.

  The sky turned black while we drove, but the lights in the lot are painfully bright. We crowd around one table. My leg squishes against Zach’s, but more awkward still is that I’m stuck sitting across from Jared. It makes it difficult to avoid looking at him.

  On the plus side, he’s finding it just as hard to not look at me.

  “So you said you were working on a new song today,” Hannah says to Jared. “That’s so cool. How’s it going?”

  “Good. It’s going good.” He smiles but he plays with his thumb ring.

  Translation: it’s not going well. Spinning the thumb ring around is a classic Jared stress maneuver. I’ve seen it many times.

  “Ooh, how many have you written since you got here?” Hannah asks.

  The topic interests everyone at the table, including me for nefarious reasons of my own. I enjoy seeing Jared squirm. He hasn’t touched his frappe, but I’m surprised he hasn’t knocked the ring off yet the way he’s pawing at it.

  “I’ve started three or four, but it takes time. I’m not going to finish anything here. I’ll have to go back to the studio for that.”

  I run my spoon around the edge of my cup, repressing a smile. “Must be a lot of pressure to follow up on all that success. People really have high expectations now, I bet.”

  A muscle in Jared’s cheek twitches.

  “Geez, Claire.” Hannah laughs. “He’s a performer. I’m sure he can handle it.”

  I’m betting not. I’m betting, given the tightness in Jared’s face and the way he’s practically cutting grooves in his skin with his ring, that he’s feeling anything but confident. No wonder he left New York for the wilds of New Hampshire. He was running away.

  Again.

  Abruptly, Jared stops playing with the ring. “I work well under pressure.”

  Our eyes meet. He’s daring me to contradict him, and the tension almost makes me laugh. I fight the irrational urge and swallow a huge spoonful of ice cream. “Good for you,” I say with my mouth full.

  “So guys.” April clears her throat. “What did you think of the movie?”

  My sister guides the conversation toward less volatile subjects, and it pains me to realize I owe her. I finish my ice cream in silence.

  By then it’s late, and the crowd at the ice cream stand has thinned. When I go to throw away my cup, I discover the nearest trashcan’s full. Annoyed, I wander over to the far one where Jared’s heading. Out of earshot of everyone, I can’t resist rising to Jared’s bait. Better late than never.

  “Trouble in song-writing paradise?” I ask, my voice low. “What’s wrong—no personal tragedy for you to exploit? No friend from your past to slander?”

  Surprise flashes across Jared’s face. “Slander? Cute.”

  “Yeah, I found the lies you told about me adorable. You should be thanking me that I haven’t warned Hannah about how you treat your exes.”

  Jared gapes at me. It’s clear my attack took him by surprise, but why should it? Just because we’re not talking about the past doesn’t mean it’s forgotten.

  As he recovers, his face hardens. “Oh, this is about how I treat people? What about the way you do? Christ, Claire, you have nerve.”

  “I have nerve? You’re the one who’s said all those nasty things about me without even hearing me out. Fuck you.”

  He stuffs his cup in the trash bin. “Thanks for offering, but no. Been there, done that, and don’t need to suffer through anything so boring again.”

  I swear there’s a second when it feels like all the oxygen’s been sucked out of the air between us. The sound of voices and cars die away in this vacuum, leaving me with nothing but Jared’s words.

  Then blood rushes to my face. I stalk away, not even sure I’m breathing. Yeah, I walked right into that comment. But calling me shallow is one thing. Making jokes about something that was supposed to be special and meaningful between us? Low blow in every sense of the phrase.

  My hands ball into fists. This shouldn’t infuriate me, but clearly Jared found the right scab to pick. Maybe it’s because of how I agonized over whether to sleep with him. Even though I trusted him completely, it was the biggest, scariest decision I ever made, and I thought it was right because I was in love with him. Or maybe it’s because I still remember every detail of our first time, and even though that first time kind of sucked in retrospect, it was still—in my memory—perfect.

  Or maybe, honestly, it hurts so bad because it’s the final, ultimate confirmation that the Jared in my memory is not the Jared that exists today. Perhaps he never existed, and I was really a stupid kid like my parents thought. Whatever the reason, this is just one more piece of my heart that he took. One more piece he seems to enjoy breaking.

  I can’t believe my face is clenching up like I want to cry. This is ridiculous.

  Footsteps approach. “Claire, wait.”

  We’re only twenty feet away from the table where everyone else sits. Jared’s crazy if he thinks I’m talking to him. “Go to hell,” I say, my jaw tight. He has no idea how strong my urge is to hit him.

  I’m saved from potential assault charges because a group of girls emerges from the darkness on my left, all shy because they recognize him. I collapse at an empty table while Jared adopts a smile and signs autographs as though our exchange never happened. But I guess he’s good at pretending we never happened, except when it makes him famous, of course.

  Attracted by the crowd, more people approach Jared. I have to admit, he handles the attention with grace, even as he steals glances at me. But hey, not my problem if he thinks our conversation isn’t over yet. I’m done.

  Hell, I’m overdone. Burned.

  Zach stretches out next to me. “I want to be a rock star. Then girls can hang all over me, too.”

  “So you want people to view you as some object and not as a real person? You want people to demand pieces of your time whether you’re in the mood to deal with them or not?”

  “Well, sure, maybe he’s only an object to them, but I’d be cool with that if it meant girls went nuts over me.”

  Zach must realize that’s not exactly the way to endear himself to me because he immediately tries to backpedal. I barely hear him, still ruminating over Jared. Girls are definitely going nuts over him. No surprise that any good memories he had of us have drowned in the deluge of female attention. In fact, maybe sex with me was boring by comparison.

  My stomach turns, a sickness I know isn’t caused by the rotting stench emanating from the trashcan. “I have to go. Have to work tomorrow.”

  “Yeah, I have a class that starts at eight.” Zach groans. “I wasn’t expecting to run into everyone tonight.”


  “Me, neither,” I lie.

  We wander toward our cars. “So maybe next time we can do something without the crowd?” Zach asks.

  “Yeah, definitely.”

  As he drives off, I program my GPS to take me back to my aunt and uncle’s.

  April slides into the car. “Can I go with you?”

  “’Course.”

  While I wait for the GPS to calculate my directions, I catch a glimpse of Jared in my mirror. The crowd’s dispersed, and he’s playing with the thumb ring again.

  The Germans have a great word—schadenfreude. For my now pointless SATs, I had to memorize a lot of vocabulary words that no one in real life uses. That one sticks with me. It means taking pleasure in other people’s pain, a notion that sums up my feelings toward Jared perfectly. I want his second album to crash and burn, and I want him to see me laughing.

  And yet, oddly enough, part of me feels bad about that idea. As though it’s beneath me, and I’m not that cruel.

  But damn it, I want to be.

  I poke April in the arm. “I need some driving tunes. Something angry.”

  She turns on the stereo, but stares at me instead of the screen. “What did he say to you?”

  “He said we should get together—”

  “Not Zach. Jared. He said something to you by the trashcan. You looked like you were going to cry.”

  I squeeze the steering wheel, feeling the lump reform in my throat. Great. I so don’t want to have this conversation with April. Worse—what if she isn’t the only one who saw that lovely interlude between me and Jared? What if Hannah asks questions?

  I take a deep breath. “Nothing. He didn’t say anything worth repeating.”

  “Oh, come on. Tell me. You know I hate him as much as you do.”

  I snatch the controls from her, select some classically angry Nine Inch Nails tune, and crank the volume. “No, you can’t hate him as much as I do. Trust me.”

  Though I don’t have a lot of experience in this area, I’m quite certain you cannot hate anyone like this until they’ve seen you naked and have thrown the experience back in your face as “boring.”