What Unbreakable Looks Like

by Kate McLaughlin

  I glance toward the living room. “Okay.” My aunt takes my hand and leads me into the room.

  The sofas have built-in recliners so I get way too relaxed. It’s hard to relax when you’re watching a freaky movie though. It’s so good, but so messed up. A couple of times I’m on the edge of my seat, yelling at the TV. Krys and Jamal laugh at me.

  Afterward, I look at the two of them. “What is wrong with you guys?”

  “Admit it,” Jamal urges. “You liked it.”

  “It was awesome,” I admit.

  “Ready for the next one, or are you done?”

  It’s only nine o’clock. “Do it up.”

  He puts on Happy Death Day. It doesn’t mess with my head like Get Out, but there are a few good scares. It’s a fun movie, more about how the character needs to change than horror.

  “Okay,” Krys says after that one. “It’s been a long day. Time for bed.”

  I’m not really tired, but I’ve got a few books I want to read in my room. Before I go, I turn to Jamal. “Can we do this again next weekend?”

  His grin is huge, like the biggest, whitest smile I’ve ever seen. “The Autopsy of Jane Doe, next Saturday. Maybe even Carrie.”

  I smile and say good night. In my room I put on my pajamas, use the bathroom, brush my teeth, and wash my face. Before climbing into bed, I check my door. There’s a lock on the knob. I turn it to be safe.

  I crawl into bed. Oh, God—the sheets are so soft and clean, and the bed is so big and comfortable. I close my eyes. It can’t be real. This is all too good to be true. Something terrible is going to happen.

  But nothing happens while I read my book. I turn pages until my eyes are heavy and my head starts to swim, then I turn off the light.

  There’s a soft glow coming from the far corner of the room. It gives off enough brightness that I can just barely make out my surroundings. A night-light. How did Krys know I don’t like the dark?

  I roll onto my side, facing the door, and tuck up into a ball on these impossibly awesome sheets that smell like summer and feel like a dream. I stare at the doorknob for as long as I can, but my eyes keep drifting closed.

  Finally, I fall asleep. No one tries to get in. There aren’t any screams in the night. I don’t even dream. Nothing bad happens.

  But I know it’s coming.

  * * *

  “What are you writing?” I ask my uncle the next morning. We’re at the table having breakfast like a family on TV or something.

  Jamal smiles. His teeth are perfect, I realize. Mine are okay, but a little crooked. He obviously grew up in a family with more money than ours. What would it be like to grow up that way? A john once knocked out one of Jasmine’s teeth. Mitch bitched and moaned about having to take her to get it fixed. Good thing he knew a dentist that would take payment in trade.

  “I’m making a list of movies for us to watch,” he replies. “You want some more bacon?”

  He plops a couple of pieces onto my plate, and I dip them in the yolk of my egg before eating them. As I chew, I think about the motel and how long ago it feels.

  Where’s Mitch? He’s out there, somewhere. The cops haven’t arrested him, and I haven’t seen him—yet. What happens if he comes for me? What if he doesn’t?

  I don’t know how I’d react if I saw him. Part of me misses him, as fucked up as that sounds. Another part of me wants to kill him. Slowly, so he suffers.

  My mother’s boyfriend, Frank, told me it was my fault I ended up at the motel. If I hadn’t been such a horny slut, it never would have happened. I made all the decisions that put me there, he said. I believed him, but now … I don’t remember ever saying yes. Not once. I don’t remember being asked what I wanted at all.

  “I’ve been thinking,” Krys says as she refills our coffee cups. “You might need a tutor to help get you caught up on school.”

  Yeah, right. School. Is it too late to bail on that shit? “Okay.”

  “You know, I’m beginning to realize you say ‘okay’ whenever I bring up something you’re not really keen on.” She gives me a smile. “So, yeah, I’m thinking maybe Zack could tutor you. He’s a ridiculously smart kid.”

  “Great idea,” Jamal says, looking up from his list. “You want me to ask him?”

  “To tutor me?” I ask.

  “Who else?”

  I glance at my aunt. They’re both watching me, waiting. Neither one of them is going to make the decision for me. I can’t explain it, but I kind of wish one of them would.

  “Maybe see if I need help first?” Mostly because I’m pretty sure Zack thinks I’m a douche. And I’m not convinced he isn’t one either.

  “Sure thing,” Krys replies and takes the coffeepot back to the counter. As soon as she sets it down, the phone rings. I go back to eating as she talks. She sounds excited about something.

  “I’ll be over later, Maria. Thanks!” She hangs up. “The Diazes’ puppies are ready!”

  “Save me, Lord,” Jamal mutters.

  Krys grabs my hand, almost pulls me out of my chair. “Let’s go get one!”

  “What?” I stumble to my feet.

  She looks stupidly happy. “They’re giving us first dibs. Let’s go!” A puppy? We’re getting a puppy? How did I end up here of all places?

  I put on my sneakers and follow her out of the house. It’s a warm morning for March, so I’m fine in my hoodie. We walk down the paved driveway and take a right when we reach the sidewalk. The Diazes live two houses down in a big white house with a huge veranda.

  Krys rings the bell. The door is opened by a very short girl with long, brown hair, huge hazel eyes, and a tiny bow-like mouth. She looks like an anime drawing come to life.

  “Hey, Krys,” she says. “We’re loaded with puppies.”

  “Hi, Elsa,” my aunt replies. “This is my niece, Alexa.”

  “Lex,” I say.

  The girl looks up at me and smiles. “El. I’ll take you to the pups.”

  The house is gorgeous—even more than Krys and Jamal’s. It’s like walking through a magazine that someone actually lives in. It’s clean but doesn’t look like anal people live there. It actually feels welcoming. There’s even a pool out back.

  We follow Elsa to a door with a baby gate across it. She lifts the gate and lets us into a room that I guess is a sunporch. A noise makes me look up. I make eye contact with the biggest pit bull I’ve ever seen.

  There’s two of them.

  My heart jumps into my throat, but the dogs don’t lunge. They don’t do much of anything. They’re both lying on the floor, looking exhausted, while what has to be at least ten puppies run around them, tripping over their own feet.

  “They’re big babies,” Elsa tells me. “Really. The only time you’d ever have to be afraid of them is if you were like, breaking in or something.”

  “I’ll remember never to do that,” I reply.

  This makes her laugh. “Sit on the floor. They’ll come to you.”

  I glance at Krys, but she’s already plunking herself down in the middle of the floor, not far from the dog parents. The larger of the two comes over and sits beside her, leaning into her shoulder.

  “He’s such a flirt,” Elsa says. “Especially with Krys. Aren’t you going to sit?”

  Okay, if it’s such a big deal, I’ll frigging sit. The puppies have already started coming over to check out Krys, their tails wagging so hard, their little butts sway back and forth. They are the cutest things I’ve ever seen.

  I sit, feeling the clear blue gaze of the mama dog on me. It’s like she can see right through me, and I’m not sure I like it. What if she doesn’t like what she sees?

  She gets up and pads over to me. Sitting right in front of me, she puts her paw on my knee.

  “She wants you to scratch her ears,” Elsa says. She’s on the floor now too, cuddling a little brown puppy that licks her face like she’s covered in ice cream.

  I scratch the pit bull’s ears. She closes her eyes and makes a noise that s
ounds like a groan. After a few minutes of this, she decides she’s had enough and goes back to her previous spot. I guess I passed her test because a few seconds later, four puppies decide they want a piece of my action.

  “They’re adorable,” I say, because numb as I am, I’m not so far gone that I can resist furry cuteness. “How are you going to pick one?”

  “I’m not,” Krys says, grinning at me. “You are.”

  My jaw drops. “I can’t!”

  Elsa laughs, but it’s not a malicious sound. “You don’t have to. One of them will choose you.”

  I’m not sure I believe her, but as the puppies get bored or tired and wander off, I see what she means.

  Only one of them stays with me—a gorgeous little girl with fur so sooty it’s almost black and blue eyes like her mama. She’s sturdy and strong and a little bit sassy. I rub her velvety ears, and she looks at me like I’m the most incredible thing she’s ever seen. It hurts, her looking at me like that, but I can’t look away.

  “I think we found our winner,” Krys says with a smile. “We’ll pick up what we need for her and take her home later today or tomorrow, if that’s okay?”

  Elsa shrugs. “I don’t see why not, but I’ll go get Mom to make sure.”

  When she leaves the room, I look at my aunt. “We’re seriously taking her?”

  Krys nods. She scoots closer across the polished boards. “She’s your dog, Lex. I want you to have someone you can trust and love without anything getting in the way, someone who will love and trust you unconditionally. Plus, no one’s going to mess with you when you’re walking a pit bull.”

  I can’t imagine the little ball of warmth against my leg would ever inspire fear in anyone, but I glance at her mother again. Okay, maybe. I rub my chest to ease that strange pinch. Happiness isn’t supposed to hurt, is it?

  My eyes burn. The puppy chooses that moment to climb into my lap. It takes her two tries. “You’re so good to me,” I say to Krys. “I don’t know how to deserve it.”

  I notice her eyes are a little bright too. “You don’t have to know how, just know that you do.”

  I’m not sure I believe it, but I believe that she does, and that’s good enough. I lean into her. She hesitates before leaning into me. It’s not quite a hug, but it’s the second time I’ve initiated contact with her. And that means something.

  chapter five

  Krys keeps her word. All day, I keep thinking she’s going to change her mind about the dog—the dog I’ve already named in my head. The dog I’m already half in love with. I feel more for that puppy than I do for Jamal, or even Krys, for that matter.

  But Krys hasn’t changed her mind. After we do some clothes shopping at the mall, she looks at me and says, “Ready to go puppy shopping?” We make a run to the pet store for everything she’ll need: food, a bed, training pads, a leash, bowls, toys. We sign up for behavior classes too.

  “Have you decided on a name yet?” Krys asks as we drive home.

  “Isis,” I reply.

  “Like the Egyptian goddess?”

  I glance over at her. “She watches over slaves and the downtrodden, and she’s a friend to children.”

  Krys doesn’t ask me how I know this, so I don’t have to tell her Ivy told me. I think about Ivy a lot—what happened to her when she escaped from the hospital, if she’s okay. Is she home with her parents? Or is she back with Mitch? I was dumb enough to trust Mitch, but I’m smart enough to know that without Krys, I’d probably be on my back again somewhere. I’d be stoned and used, and I probably wouldn’t live to see eighteen.

  I still might not.

  “Isis is a perfect name,” my aunt enthuses. “You’re going to have to walk her a few times a day and train her to go outside. It’s a lot of responsibility.”

  “I don’t mind,” I say quickly. Krys flashes me a smile.

  Elsa is there when we arrive. I’m five-foot-seven and the top of her head is below my chin. She’s gotten her nose pierced since yesterday, and she’s wearing a Hanson T-shirt and shorts, so I can see she’s got several tattoos, two of which are quotes on the inside of her forearms. I can’t read what they say. I’ve always wanted a tattoo.

  She catches me staring and holds up her arms. “Perfect way to hide the scars of my tragic youth,” she quips.

  Her left arm says: RAZORS PAIN YOU and the right says: YOU MIGHT AS WELL LIVE. I don’t recognize the quotes.

  “Dorothy Parker,” she supplies at my blank stare. “It’s a poem about suicide.”

  “Did you try to kill yourself?” I ask.

  “Haven’t you? All the kids are doing it these days.” She laughs. “Sorry. That was stupid.”

  I shrug. “I say stupid stuff all the time.”

  She looks at me from underneath impossibly long eyelashes. “Yeah? Because you don’t really seem to say much at all.”

  “I don’t always do it out loud.”

  She laughs again, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “You can bring her over any time to play with her sibs,” she tells me. “I’m only working part-time this summer, so I’ll be around.”

  I nod. “Thanks.”

  Her laughter fades to a smile. “So, are you like, super awkward, or is it me?”

  I blink. “It’s not you.”

  “Good to know,” she replies, bobbing her head. “So, you want to hang out sometime?”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yeah, why not? I kinda dig super awkward, y’know? You’ll make me look way cooler than I am.” She smiles when she says it, so I know she’s joking. I think.

  “I don’t know…” I glance at Krys, but she’s talking to Elsa’s mother about Isis’s papers and habits. Stuff I should probably be listening to.

  Elsa shrugs. “No pressure. It’s just that Cleo doesn’t immediately take to a lot of people, so I figured maybe you’d want to be friends.”

  I stare at her like she’s speaking a foreign language. “Cleo?”

  She points down, and I follow her finger with my gaze. There, sitting next to me is Mama Pit Bull. Just sitting there, looking at me. I pat her on the head and her tail thumps.

  “I named my puppy Isis.”

  “I know. It’s like kismet or something.”

  I swallow. “So, they’re called American Pit Bull Terriers, right?”

  “Yup. A lot of breeders get all freaky about it, but I don’t care. I call ’em pitties because it’s fun to say.”

  She’s the oddest girl I’ve ever met. I kind of like her. “I might be able to hang out sometime.”

  She looks at me. I don’t know what she sees, but she gives me a quick nod. “Cool. I’m babysitting the puppies next Saturday. Probably get pizza around seven and watch a movie. If you like pepperoni, come on over.”

  “Okay. I’ll see if I can make it.”

  A little smile curves her tiny lips, like she knows I’m BSing and is okay with it. “Awesome.”

  Krys plunks Isis into my arms and says, “Okay, let’s get this little girl home.”

  The puppy licks my chin, and I can’t help but smile.

  “Bring her with you if you come over next weekend,” Elsa suggests. “She might be lonely without her sibs.”

  Krys looks surprised when she turns to me. “The two of you are hanging out?”

  “Maybe,” I say, hoping she sees the warning in my eyes. “If I can.”

  “Right.” My aunt doesn’t miss a beat. “We’ll have to check and make sure there’s nothing already planned.” I blush slightly—nothing like making it obvious.

  “Sure,” Elsa says. “No worries.”

  I snuggle my dog and meet the other girl’s gaze. “Thanks,” I say.

  She smiles. “You won’t want to thank me the first time you have to pick up warm dog shit with a plastic bag around your hand.”

  I shrug. “Aren’t all the kids doing it these days?”

  She laughs a little, still holding my gaze. “Right. Hey, I hope you’re free next weekend.”

  Is
is licks my face, and I feel a smile stretch my face. “Yeah,” I say, and at the moment, I mean it. “Me too.”

  * * *

  Sarah’s leaving.

  After a few months at Sparrow Brook, she says she’s ready to go home. It amazes me that even though all of us have been through a lot of the same stuff, we all handle it differently. I really don’t understand the ones that are crying all the time, or always looking for a fight, like Treena. Dr. Lisa says I “dissociate” so that makes the emotional stuff easier for me because I refuse to feel it.

  She says it like it’s a bad thing. I’m pretty sure it’s what keeps me alive, what keeps me doing the things they say I’m supposed to do. I must be doing something right because I’ll be leaving Sparrow Brook a couple of weeks earlier than they first thought. Some of that has to do with the fact that they don’t think I’m a high risk for readdiction.

  I miss my pills sometimes, but there’s not one part of me that needs them. Not anymore. Maybe if I felt more, I would.

  We have a little party for Sarah. Apparently they do this every time a girl leaves. They get a cake and give her a present that’s supposed to be from everyone, but is really picked out by the staff.

  “Ten bucks says it’s a journal,” Lonnie whispers near my ear as we watch Sarah open her gift. “With something inspirational on it.”

  “A journal,” Sarah says, holding up the book. I see the quote on the front says BE THE YOU THAT YOU WANT TO BE in swirling script.

  “Puke,” I whisper.

  Lonnie laughs. “It’s meant well.”

  I turn to her. “Why are you still here?”

  Her smile fades. “My sister smuggled in some Percs for me a month ago. Put me on a spiral again. She thought she was helping. My leg hurts a lot.”

  “I thought you couldn’t abuse painkillers if you’re actually in pain,” I say.

  She gives me a look that makes me think I don’t know shit.

  The cake is good, and we rip into it like a pack of starving wolves. Sometimes I think sugar is the best drug of all.