Our Broken Pieces

by Sarah White

  I survived another big moment. Soon there will be no more of these moments left to survive and I’ll be able to start living my life without fear of being hurt by them anymore.

  After my shower I sit in the living room with my parents, watching a recorded reality show they like, waiting for the right time to bring up my plans for next Tuesday night. I’m pretty sure it won’t be an issue, but I don’t know if I’m ready to answer the questions they might have about my relationship with Gabe. My mom reaches for my hand beside her on the couch.

  “You went running today?” she asks with a smile, and my dad leans forward so he can see my face when I answer.

  “Yeah. It felt good. I’m trying to start doing the things I used to.” I smile at them and hope they get a small reprieve from their parental worry.

  “That’s great. You should get out more,” my dad says before taking a sip of his coffee.

  “So would it be okay if I went to a concert next Tuesday night, then?” My mom looks to my dad and he gives her a nod.

  “What concert and who are you going with?” my mom asks, resting her mug in her lap.

  “Ed Sheeran. Gabe asked me to go.” I don’t miss the way my mom’s eyes widen with surprise and my dad’s features twitch a little at the mention of the boy he’d only met quickly just a few days ago.

  “Will he be driving you or are you taking your car?” my dad asks.

  “He’s actually going to pick me up before school next Tuesday, then we’re going to leave after my appointment.”

  “I think that’s wonderful. I’ll give you some money for gas and dinner.” My mom turns her attention back to the TV, but pats my hand reassuringly.

  “Thanks.” I get up and head down the hall, deciding to ask Rosie to make a trip to the mall with me for a new outfit after I take the girls around to a few garage sales. It shouldn’t be hard to convince her since she practically lives there when she isn’t at practice.

  With the day planned, I pick the girls up and head to Starbucks so we can drink fancy coffees while we drive around the neighborhood looking for the lawns covered in items that might help decorate the quad with our theme. We find old beach balls, worn beach chairs, and even a surfboard that will look great propped up in the sand. I was able to find a few good deals on Craigslist, so we pick up those items as well. We stop for a late breakfast at McDonald’s before stashing our items away in the back of Angie’s garage. Kathy has promised us the sand is sitting safely on her father’s lot. I can feel the excitement for the prank building inside me, and I love the feeling. It reminds me of what I thought the end of my senior year would be like before my heartbreak.

  Rosie and I get to the mall just after lunch and shop until it’s almost dinnertime. We laugh and try on a million things just for the fun of it. When we sit down for dinner at a restaurant on the outside of the mall, I decide it’s time to fill her in on Gabe.

  “So do you think you like him?” she asks as soon as the waitress leaves our table.

  “I like spending time with him,” I hedge. “And our kisses were incredible.” Rosie laughs at what I can only imagine is the dreamy expression on my face. “But honestly, I’m not prepared to dive back into the deep end of the dating pool. Everything that happened with Brady and Elle is still so raw and I just don’t think I’m ready to get into something serious with everything else. It’s hard though, because when I’m with Gabe I’m happy—really happy—but when I’m not with him I sometimes catch myself thinking about Brady.” I watch my sister think about what I’ve said. She takes a sip of her soda when the waitress comes back to take our order, then she leans in as if to share a secret.

  “Then you need to spend more time with Gabe. Hang out with him until there is more of him than Brady. I mean, would you even want Brady back after all he’s put you through?” She isn’t being mean, just asking the same honest question I’ve asked myself over and over again.

  I sigh. “It isn’t really Brady in my heart, it’s his ghost. It’s the person I thought he was. I see traces of the Brady I love, but then he does something that makes me wonder who he is now. I think all the parts of him I love are living inside me. I think it has stopped being about him and is now just me holding on to our history.”

  She thinks for a minute and then smiles over her drink. “We need someone to exorcise him from your heart. I don’t think we could get a priest, but I happen to know a really hot swimmer who might just be the man for the job.” I almost spit out my drink when I start laughing.

  “Maybe.”

  “Well, you are going on a date with him. Doesn’t that mean something?”

  “I wouldn’t call it a date. I mean, I know we kissed, but neither of us have made a move to make it anything serious, and I’m not sure that’s a bad thing. I enjoy our friendship and don’t want to risk losing that. He’s my first new friend since losing Brady and Elle. I’m afraid if we move things into a relationship, it might fall apart. I don’t think I can survive another heartbreak like that right now.”

  “You don’t know that will happen,” she says, taking a sip from her straw and then shaking her head. “He’s different. The situation is different. YOU are different.”

  She’s right, but still I can’t help but think that I thought Brady was different too. I would hear about the longer relationships at our school breaking up during their senior year and believed that would never happen to us. I believed that we were different. “I don’t trust myself to see the signs.”

  “Don’t give it a label then. Don’t call it a ‘relationship’ if that word freaks you out. Just go out with him as friends who are really into each other. Do what feels right at the time without overthinking everything. Just give it a chance to become more if that’s what you both decide that you want.” The waitress returns with our pizza.

  “You make it sound easy.”

  “You don’t have to make it complicated,” she counters. I laugh as I steal a pepperoni off her piece and shove it into my mouth before she can do anything about it.

  Her eyes meet mine across the table. “It’s good to have you back, Everly. I really missed you.” She offers me a smile and I nod my head, realizing I haven’t been the only one to have lost someone these last few weeks.

  nineteen

  DRIVING INTO THE nearly empty parking lot on Monday morning feels surreal. It’s only six thirty a.m. as I park my car and nudge Rosie awake in the passenger seat. She opens her eyes slowly, struggling to focus through the thick fog that is lurking in the parking lot and giving the school an eerie vibe. “You still have pillow lines on your cheek.” I laugh as I flip down her visor and open the small vanity mirror. She makes a face as she runs her fingers across the angry red indents.

  “Why do we have to be here so early?” she asks again. We’ve already been over this, but every time she falls back to sleep she seems to forget . . . or maybe she just asks a million times as a form of revenge for me dragging her here just minutes after the sun has come up.

  “It’s spirit week,” I deadpan. I reach behind us and pull one of her crunchy pom-poms from the back and drop it unceremoniously into her lap. The glittery plastic strands make even this time of the morning feel festive. “You know, the week where cheerleaders are supposed to be cheery.” My sarcasm is on point even though my brain has only been awake an hour.

  “I can be cheery at eight a.m. I don’t need to be cheery right now.” She rolls her eyes playfully and then points out the window at the plants that decorate the front planters. “See, nothing is awake right now.” I chuckle when I see the usually tall flowers hanging limply, covered in morning dew. Angie’s car pulls into the spot next to us, blocking our view of the sleepy blooms. She’s smiling and waving to us, and I have to give Rosie credit when she finds the energy to smile and shake a pom-pom in her direction. “You owe me,” she says as she unbuckles her seat belt.

  I love being at school this time of the morning. The moisture and fog rolling in from the ocean turn our usually
boring old school buildings into mysterious structures. They act as a filter, turning decades of wear into preserved historical landmarks full of mystery. When the sun burns it all away second period, the sights before me will turn back into the chipped and weathered classrooms. I tug Rosie along as Angie joins us and we head to the student council office.

  “Good morning, ladies,” Mrs. Cramier says when we step inside. The heater has kicked on even though later we will all be wishing for AC instead.

  “Good morning,” we say together. After setting our bags down we open the storage room and grab as many of the posters as we can. More students make their way into the room, some of them chipper and excited for the week, and others groggy and nursing large coffees. We hand them the posters and direct them to where we want them hung. Then together we start pulling out the balloons and filling them with helium from the ancient-looking metal tanks.

  “Where did you even learn how to make these?” Rosie asks as Angie and I take turns blowing up the colorful balloons, tying them, twisting three together, and sliding the group onto a ribbon. We are building a balloon arch that will float over the school entrance and notify students there is something special planned today.

  I shrug my shoulders and pull on the knot. “It’s something that student council people pass down to each other. A tradition, I guess.” Angie nods her head in agreement. “We make at least ten a school year. I think I could do this in my sleep.”

  “It’s cool,” Rosie says softly, reaching for a balloon and joining the assembly line.

  “Did you remember your pass?” I ask Angie.

  “Yes. I will meet you here fourth period to help you get the track set up. We aren’t really working on anything important in class so it won’t be an issue.” The senior games start today and our first activity is the tricycle race. With the senior games and spirit week combined, as has been the tradition for the last ten years, this will be a crazy week for Angie and me. We have to run all the activities, which means we have to manage our fellow council members and make sure everyone has a signed pass for any time they will be missing their classes to help us set up. I feel my lips curl up in a smile. I’m enjoying this. Even with the anxiety and pressure, this is going to be a great week.

  “I updated our senior class Facebook page last night. We have everything we need for tomorrow. I think we actually have more than we need. If everyone gets out of bed and to our quad by seven a.m, we should be able to pull it off.” I grab another balloon and stretch it out so it’s easier to fill.

  Rosie slides on another layer. “We are totally going to kick your ass,” she says just loud enough so Mrs. Cramier can’t hear. “Red is bright and it is going to be everywhere.” Class colors are used to promote class spirit. Rosie’s class is red, and the senior class is blue. Next year, our color will be passed on to incoming freshmen. Tomorrow is the quad-decorating competition. Each class has chosen a theme around their color and will try to win by impressing the teachers who have volunteered to judge. The winning class gets bragging rights, and will get the most desired seating area at the rally on Friday.

  Angie and I exchange a look over the helium tank as Rosie stretches her balloon. She and I have organized the entire thing for our class, and from what we hear, the other classes are far less organized. “Speaking of red,” Angie says, “did you remember to tell the staff that they are to wear red for the staff versus seniors basketball game on Wednesday?”

  “Yes. I sent out a reminder email on Saturday. I’ll send another on Tuesday. Did you talk to Coach about using the football field for practice at lunch?” The sign-ups for the powderpuff game were a huge success. We have enough girls for two teams. The boys who were asked to coach us will be perfect. I wonder if Brady is disappointed he wasn’t asked. Today is the first day we will all meet to choose teams and start practicing. It’s not a lot of time, but we will meet at lunch this week to practice and stay after school for a two-hour session before the Friday game.

  “Yeah. He said we are all set. He just wants us to remind the girls that the turf can give you a nice burn, so we might want to protect our knees and elbows.” Angie slides a few balloons on as John, the freshman class president, peeks his head in.

  “We’re all finished putting up the posters. Do you need any more help to set up before lunch?” A few other kids gather behind him.

  “No, I think we have it. Just make sure you’re there to help cheer the seniors on.”

  “You got it,” he says, smiling, as he leaves us.

  The three of us focus on the arch, the loud sound of the helium tank, and the unnerving sound of skin manipulating latex filling the room. After a few more layers Angie meets my gaze. “I talked to Ethan about the teams,” she says cautiously. I feel my heart pick up its pace in my chest. I have been trying to think of what I’d do if Elle and I were chosen for the same team, and I just can’t come up with anything that wouldn’t add more drama.

  She ties her balloon. “I told him it would be awesome if there wasn’t any conflict on the teams. I reminded him that Jennifer and Rachel don’t get along, and that there might be a few other girls who would prefer to be separated.”

  “I’ll live,” I tell her, because it’s true. It might be hard to be on a team with Elle, but I am determined to not let her ruin this too.

  “Of course,” she says quickly. “But he assured me that he and Hector would keep that in mind when they chose teams this afternoon.” I feel relieved and let out a big breath of air. “He also told me to tell you he said hi and that he’s going to try to get you on his team.” She smiles coyly. I feel my cheeks flush. Angie and Rosie both laugh.

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome,” she replies. We work a little longer and then Rosie leaves so she can chat with her friends before her first class. Angie and I keep working, hoping to get the arch done quickly so we can get it up before most students get on campus. Before long, she and I are the only people left and she whispers, “I can’t wait for Sunday night.” Her eyes are practically twinkling with excitement.

  “Me either.”

  twenty

  I LIE ON my bed feeling more excited than I’ve been in a long time. My heart is racing and my hands are a bit shaky as I wait in the darkness for the sound of Gabe’s truck. It’s going to be hard carrying all the props for the prank with my sore arms. I lift my arm and feel the muscle pull tight, the evidence of a week spent working hard learning how to catch and throw a football. I can’t help but feel proud of how well my team worked together, and if I close my eyes, I can still imagine the feeling of sweet victory as we scored the last touchdown.

  This past week has been one of the craziest of my life. I’ve been up each morning before the sun to get to school and prepare for the day’s activities, and then I’ve spent every lunch practicing with my team only to practice again for at least another hour after school. I even had to cancel my therapy appointment Tuesday so I could practice with the girls and still have time after to set up the gym for the staff versus seniors basketball game on Wednesday. I’m exhausted, but very satisfied with the huge success of spirit week.

  The seniors won the quad-decorating competition, but the freshmen showed everyone that they are a force to be reckoned with. Angie and I walked over to the freshman quad while the teachers were judging, and both of us were surprised at how the kids pulled together to create an amazing jungle scene. I saw the way they studied the other teams and how they seemed to be taking note of what worked and how to improve. If I had to bet money, I’d say next year that class will sweep the competition. Our underwater theme was creative, but only a small group of us know just how brilliant it was given that we are using a lot of the props again tonight to carry out the senior prank.

  I hear the rumbling of an engine and my insides, which were jittery before, are now rolling and bouncing with the excitement of spending time with Gabe. I’ve barely seen him at all this week, with the exception being during our Thursday Seriously Se
niors costume contest. I was the emcee of the event, but Gabe stole the show with his over-the-top costume. I sneak another look at the picture of us I’ve saved as the background on my phone before tucking it into my pocket and heading downstairs.

  I close the door quietly when I climb into his truck. My parents know where I’m going, but I still don’t want to wake the entire neighborhood. The second I see Gabe’s smiling face I realize how much I’ve missed him this week. My heart wobbles a little at the sight of him. “Hey, stranger,” he says as I buckle my belt.

  “Hey,” I answer. “Sorry I’ve been so busy.” He pulls out of the driveway and we head to Kathy’s father’s work yard, where we will be picking up the sand. There should be four other trucks there to do the same.

  “You kicked ass this week. Everyone is still talking about how fun it was.”

  “Thanks.”

  “And everyone now knows that you are one hell of a lineman.” His words make my cheeks lift higher. I’m trying hard not to smile like a lunatic. “I’m not kidding,” he says, nudging me a little with his elbow. “You put Teresa on her ass.”

  “I feel so bad about that. I didn’t mean to knock her over, but she was being super aggressive.”

  “Yeah, her team got a little desperate there at the end.” It’s unspoken between us that Elle’s team was trampled by mine. I thought it would be really important to me that I beat her, but once I got out there on the bright-green turf with my teammates and new friends, I had a blast and didn’t really care if we won or not.

  “I’m just glad prom isn’t this weekend. I’m sure some of those turf burns and bruises are going to take a while to heal. It will be funny to see how many girls show up in pretty dresses and healing wounds.”

  “Were you surprised Elle made top ten for prom queen?” he asks me delicately, knowing that I had to hand the sash over to her at the rally.