Our Broken Pieces

by Sarah White

  We don’t even make it to the mall before I realize I’ve been stressing out for nothing. Angie and I talk so much, there isn’t even a moment when silence is heard in her small car. I might not have years of history with her, but we actually think a lot alike. By the time we reach the shops, I’m completely comfortable with her. We wander through a few stores until she finds the perfect pair of silver heels to go with her dress.

  “Have you thought any more about finding a date? I think you’d have fun and it would help get your mind off things.” She hands the salesperson the shoe and tells him her size.

  “No. I don’t want it to be a blind date, though. Thanks for offering, but I’m just too anxious for something like that.” I don’t hide my anxiety, but I also don’t usually talk about it. I trust her and that’s big for me.

  “You do what you need to do to enjoy the night.” She reaches over and squeezes my arm. “But I think you’ll regret it years from now if you don’t go. Elle and Brady already made part of your senior year hell, they shouldn’t get to ruin prom too.” The man returns with a box. “Besides, sometimes it just feels good to get dressed up and put on makeup. It’s good for your soul,” Angie says, winking at me as she slides on the heels and takes a practice strut around the store. I watch her, envious of the confidence she has that allows her to walk proudly like a model while wearing rolled-up yoga pants and an oversized T-shirt that hides her petite body. When she twirls around in front of the mirror I laugh.

  After leaving the store, we wander into the newly constructed food court. The old days of drab brown and beige tile and small family fast-food stands are behind us. The new layout features bright white walls, succulents hanging from their wall-mounted gardens, and gourmet food packaged quickly for our convenience. The natural light shines in from the big windows all around us. I close my eyes for a second, just enjoying the moment, when Angie’s number is called and she leaves to fetch her food from the counter.

  “So what do you usually do after school?” Angie asks when my pizza is finally ready and we’ve found a spot to eat.

  “I volunteer at a home for seniors a few times a week. I’m also on the peer mediation team, and there are meetings once a month after school. Other than that I just do homework, try to keep up with the school activities calendar, and on days when I have time before it gets dark I like to run.”

  “Do you like being a peer mediator? I can’t imagine listening to all the drama.” She flicks her wrist.

  “I do, actually. I like getting to the bottom of things and seeing that there is a solution. I don’t like it when we are dealing with a bully. I can usually tell within the first ten minutes if we’re going to be able to reach an understanding or if it’s going to have to be sent further up the chain of command and need an adult to step in. What about you? What are you usually doing after school?” I ask, taking a bite of my pizza.

  “I babysit. I have a neighbor down the street who has two little boys. When she has a day that she needs to stay late in the office or if she just wants to go to the gym or to her book club, she calls me. It’s easy work and I get money to live on for the month. There are some things I want to do before we graduate and having a little cash will help with that.”

  “Like what?” I shake my cup, helping my straw settle to the bottom so I can get a large sip.

  “I want to take some sort of self-defense class. I know a lot of people look at me and assume I can’t defend myself because of my size, so I want to have the skills to prove them wrong. I hope I never have to use it, but since I’ll possibly be walking across a dark campus in the fall, it wouldn’t hurt to know a few moves.” She twirls her noodles around her fork and takes a dainty bite.

  “I’ve always wanted to take a class like that. I think a small studio just opened up by my house. I’ve seen a lot of women leaving the class all sweaty but smiling like they enjoyed it. Maybe we should check it out some time.”

  “Are you serious? That would be so fun!” She practically beams with excitement. “Also, I’ve been meaning to ask you, do you want to help out with the senior prank?”

  “I didn’t peg you as a prankster. What’s the plan so far?” I’m pretty sure that she has never gotten in trouble, in any area of her life. I can’t imagine her taking part in something that could prevent her from walking at graduation. She just smiles at me and shrugs one shoulder coyly.

  “I’m going out with a bang. What can they do to me? I have a clean record. I don’t think they’d really throw the book at me if I get caught.” She takes a sip of her drink and then leans in to tell me the plan. “We’re going to turn quad four into a beach party.”

  “How are you going to do that?” I love the idea.

  “Well, we are going to bring in sand and some blow-up pools. A few of us have been texting back and forth about it. Our first real meeting to discuss the details is next Friday at lunch. You have to come. We need all the help we can get to make it epic!” I’m nodding my head before she can even finish. I already have a million ideas of things that we can do to make the prank legendary, but then I remember that Brady and Elle will probably be there too. She must see the fear pass over my face because she quickly adds, “It’s just a small group of seniors right now. We aren’t going to open it up to more students until it gets closer to make sure no one spills the beans to the wrong person.”

  “Okay, I’m in.”

  “What about you, is there anything left on your senior year bucket list?”

  I take a minute to think about her question. Now that the relationship fog is clearing, I’m finally looking at the end of my senior year with fresh eyes. I haven’t been planning anything because I’ve been so wrapped up thinking about what could have been with Brady. Angie is reminding me that there is a whole world of experiences left that have nothing to do with being a couple. “I want to play on the senior girls powderpuff team.”

  Angie practically drops her next bite of food. “Really? You know that some of the football boys coach, right?” Her expression shows concern.

  “I know.” I offer a tight smile. Even though as secretary of activities I am responsible for planning the game, I had been reluctant to sign up for that very reason. But I didn’t want to keep letting my fear of seeing Brady prevent me from doing things I liked. And I’d been excited about playing in it since my freshman year.

  “We should start working on it and see how you feel when the time comes.” I think that’s what I love most about Angie—the way she encourages me to go out on a limb, but doesn’t shove me off of it. I can’t put off planning it much longer. The game is played as part of the senior games during our spirit week, and if we don’t get started, we won’t have enough kids signed up to make it a success.

  “Sounds good.” It will be so fun to see what position each of my friends choose to play. As I imagine who might be up for it, I make sure to carve out a place specifically for Angie. “We’ll need a cornerback.”

  Angie pretends to examine her small frame. “Looks like I’m the girl for the job.” We both laugh before finishing our dinners. I’ve been sitting back waiting for all these senior moments to pass by; maybe having a hand in them will help me feel more in control.

  twelve

  MONDAY MORNING I pull my car into an open spot in the row reserved for seniors. I stayed up late last night writing down a few ideas for spirit week and creating a tentative schedule. I’m early this morning because I want to have time to ask Mrs. Cramier a few questions before school starts. I think I have all the details I’m going to need to get student council’s backing, but I can’t be sure until I run it past her. I’m a little anxious that I won’t be able to pull everything together to make this year’s spirit week something special the seniors will always remember.

  A knock on my window startles me and my hand flies to my chest to help hold my heart so it doesn’t pound right out of my skin. Gabe is outside my passenger window, trying not to laugh as I take big breaths. “Sorry,” he says qui
ckly when I narrow my eyes at him. Those self-defense classes will hopefully teach me how to not jump out of my skin at a moment’s notice. I hit the button to put down the window, but instead of leaning in to talk to me he lifts the small knob and unlocks the door. He’s sitting beside me so quickly it makes me smile.

  “Good morning,” I say, turning in my seat so that I can look at his amused expression.

  “You’re a bit jumpy.” He leans back against the seat and grins at me. Even if I wanted to be mad at him for the possible heart attack, I just can’t seem to muster the anger when he’s looking at me with that charming expression. “I saw your car and thought I’d say hello.” He puts the window up again so the students passing by can’t hear our conversation.

  “Hello,” I reply with a small laugh, finally letting my hand on my chest fall to my lap.

  Gabe is looking around my car, taking in the radio station I’m listening to and the small charm that hangs from my rearview mirror. I forgot to take it down after the breakup. It’s Brady’s football number. Gabe holds it in his palm long enough to lean forward and study it before letting it go again. I reach for it and lift it from the mirror, letting it gather on my palm. Gabe watches me silently, but I don’t feel like he’s making any judgments. I feel a little embarrassed that it was forgotten until just now. Gabe takes it from my hand and opens my glove box, then he places it carefully inside and shuts the door.

  We both stare straight out the windshield and watch as a few kids make their way out of the parking lot. It feels unsettling to have that charm in this small space with us. I suddenly want it gone, because it feels like it has the power to suffocate me just by being in my space. I move quickly, leaning across his legs to pop open the glove box, and grab the unlucky charm. I grip it in my fist and look for a place to get rid of it. Gabe is watching me curiously and as my eyes find their way to the large hedge outside his window, he turns to follow my gaze.

  “Looks like you found it a good home,” he says reassuringly, lowering the window on his side. He doesn’t make another move. When I pull my arm back his smile grows and he leans back to clear a path. My heartbeat picks up again, my blood moving quickly through my veins, making my head feel a little dizzy. Everything else that once belonged to Brady I packed up nicely and had my sister return to him.

  “Thank you,” I say after I let the charm fly and watch it fall into a dark hole in the old shrubbery. Gabe leans out the window to see where it landed, but it’s no use. I watched it sail into the darkness and get lost forever. It feels . . . better.

  His light chuckle fills the car as he puts the window back up. “It’s against the law to have your view restricted,” he says, overly serious, as if I might have needed a good excuse for losing my mind momentarily.

  “I’ve had my view restricted for a very long time.” I sigh and lean back in my seat. I don’t clarify what I mean because he must already know that I’m not talking about the charm anymore.

  “Should we burn some sage or something?” he asks, dipping his chin and twisting his head so he can look at me. I can’t help but laugh. I’d never tell him that the thought had crossed my mind. How easy it would be if we could just burn some sage and smoke out all the old feelings.

  “Maybe.” I turn my head and meet his gaze. I wonder if I shouldn’t be this vulnerable in front of him, but I can’t help it. I’ve never been good at hiding how I feel and something about Gabe makes me want to confide in him. Gabe nods his head and looks around. He opens the door and steps up out of his seat. I watch him reach through the open window of the car next to us and grab the tree air freshener hanging on the rearview mirror. He dips back in and shuts the door.

  “Close enough.” He pulls the tree completely from its package and my car is quickly filled with the overwhelming fragrance of a fresh-cut pine tree. “I’m not sure what we’re supposed to say.” He lets the tree dangle from its small loop.

  “I didn’t look that far into it,” I admit with a shrug.

  “What’s your favorite song?” His question takes me by surprise and I look into his eyes as I think about my answer. He waits patiently for me. “You can be honest. I won’t make fun of you,” he teases. The thought hadn’t crossed my mind. A boy who goes out of his way to comfort a girl in the bathroom and then also steals an air freshener just to make her smile doesn’t seem like a guy who would be mean about musical preferences.

  “‘Nobody to Blame,’ by Chris Stapleton, feels like a good fit.” I have a broad taste in music. I love many things, from rock to country. He gives me a supportive nod.

  “It’s an outstanding fit.” He presses his back against his seat and lifts his hips, twisting a little so he can grab something out of his pocket. I laugh as he balances the tree and pries his phone from his pants. He holds it up for me to see before sitting back down and scrolling through it. He watches my face as the song starts to play. My heart warms as he nods his head to the beat.

  “I wouldn’t have guessed you like country music,” I say, loud enough for him to hear over the song.

  “Are you kidding?” he asks, drawing his brows together. “I like all good music. Rap, rock, country, oldies.” He sets his phone on my dash and holds the tree for me to take. I laugh and shake my head, too shy to take it from him. He tilts his head to the side and moves the tree a little closer. His smile is even bigger than it was a minute ago and it feels infectious. My cheeks hurt from how big mine grows. When I cover my face and shake my head, he uses his free hand to pull my hands away. He waves the air freshener around, making sure to clear the air in every corner he can reach.

  “People will think you’re crazy,” I warn as a few kids pass in front of us.

  “People will think what they want to think, Everly. It’s human nature to fill in the gaps. Do you think I’m crazy?” he asks as he scrunches his nose up and makes a big show out of rubbing the tree along the mirror where the charm had been hanging. The fresh smell is becoming overwhelming, but he carries on like the most important thing is finishing his mission to rid my car of bad Brady energy.

  He dangles the tree in front of me again and this time I pull it from his finger. “No, but I probably should. You’re helping me sage my car with a pine-scented air freshener you stole from that other car.” I’m laughing again as I roll my eyes and wiggle the tree in the corner nearest me. I know it isn’t sage, and we aren’t really doing anything ritualistic to force out the bad energy, but it feels like it’s working somehow. I’m laughing and the weight of the breakup is forgotten for a moment as Gabe points out a few places that I’ve missed with the tree.

  Our laughing starts to turn into coughing when the fragrance overwhelms us. Gabe takes the air freshener from my hand and tucks it back into the plastic wrap. He opens his door again and sticks his hand through the open window of the car next to us to put it back where it was. When he returns to his seat I give him a curious look.

  “What?” he asks nonchalantly, as if this whole experience is totally normal.

  “You put it back?!” I wave my hand in front of my face to try to get fresh air. We both reach for our window buttons and open the windows so we don’t suffocate from the pungent smell.

  “I might be crazy, but I’m not a thief!” he answers as we both laugh, sucking in the fresh air.

  We don’t get a chance to calm down before the bell rings. “Oh, shit!” I hiss, reaching behind my seat to grab my backpack and then hurrying to put up our windows. Gabe jumps out and I emerge from my side of the car, along with a cloud of pine-scented air. Where did the time go? He’s just so easy to be around, it slipped right by. We run through the parking lot, laughing while cutting between the cars and avoiding the parking blocks. We slide to a stop at the street that runs between the parking lot and the high school. Gabe reaches out to pull my arm as soon as there is a break in the traffic.

  We are in a full sprint as we pass the old woman who locks the gates, barely making it in before she shuts them behind us with a loud clank and a d
isapproving shake of her head. “See you later!” Gabe yells as he takes the stairs of building four two at a time and I slip into class just as the final bell rings.

  thirteen

  THE NEXT DAY Angie slips into her seat beside me during student council. I smile at her and slide the paper I’ve been writing notes on into the center of the table so she can read it. Her eyes move quickly as she scans the sheet. “It’s just a few ideas,” I say as I wait for her to finish. The other student council members are moving around the room, working independently on activities. Angie smiles and looks over her shoulder to make sure no one is watching us.

  “These are great ideas!” she whispers with excitement. I pull the paper back and fold it up. I was bored in my second period class so I spent some time thinking about what we might need to help transform the quad into a beach. I feel like I’ve been dragging along most days, but when I started the list I felt invigorated. It seemed to spark something inside me and once I got going, coming up with ideas was a breeze.

  “I’m just not sure how we’ll get enough sand.” It would be too expensive to buy, and I’m sure there are rules about taking it from the beach.

  “Kathy has a hookup. Her dad is in construction or something and she said she can get a ton of it pretty easily. Do you really think we can get a palm tree?” She giggles, referring to the small drawing I had made at the bottom of my notes.

  “I think it would be awesome it we could. I’m not too sure about the logistics of it just yet, but imagine how funny it would be if it was standing tall right in the middle of the quad. I also checked Craigslist and found a few grills and old ice chests for reasonable amounts. We won’t want anything they can trace back to us, but the bigger the objects, the harder it will be for them to get it cleared up before anyone can see.”

  Angie nods her head and grabs her phone from her pocket. She quickly begins to type. “I’m going to start a new group text so you can see what we are working on and add your ideas so the other people can see them.” My phone buzzes in my pocket as she hits send.