Why is it so much easier for me to believe the worst about people, but not the good? I’ve known good people. Haven’t I?
We’re only a few blocks away from the house when a car pulls up beside us. I hear it before I see it—loud bassline thumping. They’re listening to rap, what Daisy used to call “angry white boy music.” It makes me smile a little to think of her. Is she okay? Is Ivy? What about Jasmine or Rose? Are they safe?
“Hey, Elsa,” a boy yells from the passenger window of an old Volvo.
Caesar growls. Elsa frowns at them. “Turn down the music, moron.”
To my surprise, the music is lowered to an almost-quiet level. The car has three guys in it. The one leaning out the window is cute, and I’m pretty sure he knows it. Nothing really threatening about any of them, but I take a step back regardless. Cleo doesn’t make a sound, but she puts herself between me and the car.
“Who’s your friend?” the boy in the window asks. He has blondish hair and bright blue eyes.
Elsa turns to me. It’s up to me to decide if I want to know him. “Lex,” I say.
He grins. “Hi, Lex. I’m Mike.”
I smile slightly.
He turns back to Elsa. “I’m having a party Saturday night. You guys should come.”
I haven’t been to a party in forever, at least not a normal party. The kind of “party” I’ve become used to is something these guys have probably only seen on TV.
Elsa shrugs. “Maybe.”
Mike is still smiling at her. “You’re not going to get a better offer.” He looks at me. “You’ll come, won’t you, Lex?”
I shrug too. “If I don’t have anything better to do.” The way it comes out of my mouth surprises me. Elsa too. I sound flirty.
Mike doesn’t seem to notice. He really is cute. “I’ll cross my fingers nothing else comes up. See ya.”
They roar off. Caesar growls again.
“Do you want to go?” Elsa asks me.
“I don’t know. I’m not sure it’s a good idea.” The way Mike looked at me …
“He was definitely flirting with you, but hey, you’re hot.”
“Ha. Thanks. I don’t know if Krys will go for it.”
She shrugs. “I’d go with you. It might be a good way to meet some people before school. Make some friends.”
I give her a pointed look. “I have a friend.”
She smiles. “You can have more than one.”
“One’s all I need,” I say as we start walking. “But I’ll think about it.”
Actually, I’m thinking about Mike and how nice it was to have a cute boy smile at me. Mitch didn’t completely destroy that part of me. Besides, boys are safe. After all I’d been through, I can handle boys. Right?
When is the last time I thought a guy was cute? Or wanted a guy’s attention? I can’t remember. One party wouldn’t hurt, especially if Elsa is with me.
And Mike is very, very cute.
* * *
“You’re not going to run away, are you?”
I’m putting on makeup when Krys appears in my bathroom doorway. I look at her in the mirror. “What?”
“This party, you’re really going to it, right? You’re not running away to meet up with him, are you?”
Him. She means Mitch. I stare at her, mouth slightly agape. “No.”
She nods, and I can tell how worried—how scared—she is. “It’s just … I know sometimes girls who have been through what you have, they run away—like your friend at the hospital.”
Ivy. We’ve never talked about that night she saw me at the elevator, ready to bolt.
“I almost ran away at the hospital. I thought about running away at Sparrow Brook, but I haven’t thought about it since coming here.”
Are those tears in her eyes? “Good. It would break my heart, you know. If you ran.”
I nod. My throat’s too tight to form words.
She smiles a little. “You look pretty.”
“Thanks.” It’s a rough whisper.
“I remember watching your mother get ready to go out when I was younger. You look a lot like her.”
I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or bad, but I have to assume she wouldn’t have said it unless it was a compliment.
“I thought she was so beautiful, like a movie star. Do you ever miss her?”
I shake my head. “No.” It’s horrible, probably, but it’s true. “Should I?”
“I don’t know.”
“Has she called again?”
“No.”
“Then she doesn’t miss me either.” I pull a tube of mascara out of the organizer. If I could wear only one kind of makeup, it would be mascara. My eyelashes are next to invisible without it. I coat the top and bottom, swirling the wand as I go. It’s relaxing. Centering. The kind of thing Dr. Lisa says is good for easing anxiety.
Talking about my mother makes me anxious, because I can’t think of her without thinking about Frank.
Still no sign of him, but he’s out there. So is Mitch. They probably took off to Mitch’s brother’s in upstate New York to avoid the police. Mitch likes to recruit girls from up there. He likes to recruit girls everywhere, but New York is where he found Daisy and Jasmine. I think Holly came from there too, but she left shortly after I was brought in. I don’t know where she went.
Where is Ivy? Is she okay? It’s not like she’d know where to find me even if she wanted to. Not like I can reach out to her. She’d tell Mitch. He’d take it as a sign that I want to go back. I don’t. Even if I think about it sometimes, I don’t want to go back there.
“I think your mother misses you as much as she’s able,” Krys says, bringing me back to now.
“Maybe.” I put the mascara away and get my lip gloss. “It’s nice of you to think it.”
“So, Elsa is picking you up and bringing you home?”
I nod. “I told her I need to be back by midnight.”
“And you’ll call me if you need anything, or something happens?”
I turn to face her with a slight smile. “Nothing’s going to happen.”
She doesn’t look like she believes me. “Promise you’ll call.”
“Aunt Krys, I promise.” I walk over and give her a hug. I’m slowly getting better at it, but I still suck. “Please don’t worry.”
She bobs her head, but doesn’t say anything. God, she’s really a mess.
“Do you want me to stay home?” I ask.
“Yes,” she replies with a shaky laugh. “But no. I want you to go and have fun. I’m just … scared.” She clears her throat. “Is your phone charged?”
I hold it up. It’s still plugged in. “One hundred percent.”
The doorbell rings. She jumps at the sudden sound. “That’s probably Elsa. Do you want me to send her up?”
“No. I’m ready.” I shove the lip gloss into the small cross-body bag Krys bought me a few days earlier, along with my phone. There’s twenty dollars in there for emergencies. I wouldn’t be surprised to find a tracking device sewn into the lining.
It’s not me she doesn’t trust, not really. She’s worried I’ll make a shitty decision, and I can’t blame her. I’m great at shitty decisions.
We go downstairs together. Jamal has answered the door, and Elsa is in the kitchen with him when we appear. She’s wearing torn black jeans and a dark red top with black wedges. There’s a fresh streak of dark purple in her hair and she’s got her nose piercing in.
I wonder if Krys would mind if I got my nose pierced.
We say goodbye and Elsa promises my aunt and uncle we’ll be home by midnight. She even makes sure they have her cell number. I’m starting to wonder if I should be insulted by all this. I mean, I’ve been in more dangerous situations than the three of them combined, and I’m not nearly as worried about my safety as they seem to be.
“You look awesome,” Elsa tells me as we get into her car.
I’m wearing a new outfit I got at the mall a few days earlier—jeans, a teal top, and
flats. Nothing too flashy. I don’t know how people around here dress, and while I’m not interested in being a fashion clone, I don’t want to stand out either. I’m going to stand out enough as the new girl.
“Thanks. So do you.”
She starts the engine. “So, I should probably warn you there’s a good chance my ex is going to be there.”
“Is he an asshole?”
“She, and she can be.”
My eyebrows jump halfway up my head. “Dude, I told you about being fucking trafficked, and you’re just coming out to me now?”
She lifts one shoulder. “I thought you figured it out.”
“How? It’s not like you have a pride flag in your bedroom. You don’t even have posters of girls.” She doesn’t really have posters at all—just a few band shots and some weird-ass art.
“I told you I thought Chloë Grace Moretz was hot.”
“I agreed with you,” I remind her. “That doesn’t mean I want to go down on her.”
“Well, I would!” she shoots back. She starts laughing, and so do I. “I’m sorry,” she says after a few seconds.
I wave it off. “It’s no big deal. Not like I felt the need to tell you I’m straight.” Well, mostly. I wouldn’t choose to be with a woman, but I have had sex with them. Not many, but a few, and it wasn’t that bad—as far as forced sex with strangers went.
“I kind of figured that out after watching you drool over Mike,” she teases as we pull out onto the street.
“I didn’t drool. I flirted a little.”
“You still like guys after all you’ve been through?”
It’s an honest question, and not a surprising one, really. “Yeah. I do. I really want to believe they’re not all bad, you know?”
“Yeah. I guess I’m lucky. Women are safer.”
I cast a sideways glance at her. “Girl, don’t fool yourself. I’ve known some fucked-up chicks.”
She holds up her hand. “I don’t want to know. I mean, you can talk to me about it whenever you want, but I don’t get off on other people’s pain.”
“I know. That’s why I trust you. You’d never hurt anybody.” Except herself, but I don’t say that out loud. She would think I was being cruel, and that’s not how I’d mean it.
She flashes me a toothy grin.
Mike only lives a few streets away. His giant house is red brick with white trim. Very bougie, Daisy would say. There are three cars in the paved drive and probably a dozen more on the street. We can hear the music from outside and see people laughing and dancing through the large front windows.
Suddenly, I’m frozen on the sidewalk. My feet refuse to move.
“You okay?” Elsa asks.
“I’m not sure I’m ready for this,” I admit. My heart is pounding like crazy. My scalp is sweating. What was I thinking, coming here? Willingly walking into a house full of strangers is fucking nuts.
“We’ll stand out here until you’re ready,” she says. “And if that doesn’t happen, we’ll go back to my place and watch a movie.” She doesn’t sound like she’d mind either outcome.
“Thanks,” I whisper.
“Hey,” comes a familiar voice. I turn my head to see Zack walking toward us. In distressed jeans and a dark button-down, he looks more like a man than a high school kid. “You just get here?”
I nod.
“Lex is a little nervous,” Elsa tells him. I shoot her a dirty look.
Zack shoves his hands into his pockets. “I don’t blame you. I know everyone in there, and I’m nervous. It’s like walking into a piranha tank. You never know which one’s going to try to eat you alive.”
“Aw, poor Zack doesn’t like the girls falling all over him,” Elsa teases.
I glance at him. Yeah, I can see why girls would hit on him. He’s not as pretty as Mike, but he’s got that dark and brooding thing going for him. He looks down at his feet. “It’s embarrassing,” he says.
“Is this the point where you come out to me too?” I ask dryly.
He looks at Elsa. “She didn’t know you’re gay?”
“Nope. She’s not terribly bright.” She winks at me to let me know she’s joking.
Zack turns to me. “You think I’m gay?” He looks down. “I know it’s not because of my fashion sense.”
I sigh. “Apparently my gaydar is off. I can’t tell who’s straight and who isn’t.”
Elsa slaps him on the arm. God, even in heels, she barely reaches his armpit. “Oh, Zack is one hundred percent straight, much to the disappointment of half the guys in the gay-straight student alliance.”
He rolls his eyes as he looks at me. “She’s exaggerating. And I’m only popular because I’m on the basketball team. If it weren’t for that, everyone would think I was a nerd.”
“You are a nerd,” Elsa informs him. She looks to the noisy house and sighs. “What do you guys think?”
“Let’s go in,” I say, surprising even myself. I’m more comfortable with the idea now that Zack is with us. Even if he abandons us when we get inside, at least there will be two people I know there.
“All right,” Zack says. “Let’s do it.”
We walk up the steps and ring the bell. No one answers, so Elsa turns the doorknob—the door swings open.
“Come on in, guys!” someone inside the house yells.
Zack gestures for me and Elsa to go first. It’s my last chance to change my mind. Go home and be safe, or step inside and take my chances. Mike turns his head and looks right at me. He smiles. He is so incredibly hot.
I smile back and step inside.
* * *
There’s booze and pot. I stay away from both. It’s really not that hard to do when I see other people staggering around and acting like idiots. Not the potheads—they’re slumped on the sofa, laughing and covered in chip crumbs. I wish I were joking. None of them make getting wasted look appealing. They’re not doing it to escape or be numb, they’re doing it to be more than what they think they are. No one’s taught them that it’s supposed to make you feel less.
The red plastic cup in my hand has nothing but cola in it. I know better than to set it down anywhere. It’s in my hand the entire time there’s anything in it. The first time Mitch drugged me, it was in a glass of root beer.
It’s hot and loud. I’ve met a lot of people, but it’s almost impossible to talk to anyone without yelling.
Elsa’s talking to a pretty little punk girl a few feet away, just far enough that I can’t hear anything they’re saying, which is probably for the best. Zack is surrounded by some of his basketball buddies, and yeah, several girls who seem eager for his attention. I’m tempted to tell one of them to talk to him about books if they really want his attention, but I don’t. I kind of like knowing what they don’t know.
I’m bored. I’m pretty sure I don’t have anything in common with most of these people. What am I going to say if someone asks where I went to school before this? They start talking about the trip their family took last Christmas and I tell them what? That I spent Christmas Eve getting fucked by not one, but two guys dressed like Santa? And that both of them told me what a naughty girl I was? They’d probably think I was joking. Or maybe they wouldn’t. Regardless, they’d probably laugh. What else are you going to do when someone tells you a story like that?
Finishing my drink, I set the cup down and go upstairs looking for a bathroom. The first door I open reveals a couple making out. I close the door. The next one is the bathroom. There’s not even a line, which makes me think there must be another one downstairs. I lock the door and use the toilet. After, I wash my hands and check my makeup. It’s a little melted, but not bad. I touch up my lip gloss and stand there for a second, staring at my face in the mirror. Sometimes I look at my features and don’t recognize them, or wonder if they’ve changed.
I sigh. I can’t hide in the bathroom for the rest of the night. Maybe I’ll go tell Elsa I’m ready to go. I can always get an Uber or call Krys if she doesn’t want to leave. I just
don’t belong here.
When I open the door, Mike is standing there, smiling.
“Hi,” I say.
“Hi. I’ve been looking for you.”
“Why?”
He kisses me. “Because I haven’t stopped thinking about you since we met.” He kisses me again. My heart jumps when his tongue touches my lips. When he takes my hand, I don’t pull away, not even when I see Zack walking toward us. Mike pulls me down the hall to a room. It’s his room, I guess. It looks like a boy’s bedroom.
He locks the door.
“You’re beautiful,” he tells me, kissing me once more. “Is this okay? I wanna spend time with you.”
I nod. I want to spend time with him too, so when he leads me to his bed, I go. I lie down with him and let him kiss me some more.
“You’re not like other girls, are you?” he asks as he slides his hand under my shirt.
“No,” I say. Then I kiss him so he’ll stop talking.
I know what he wants. When his fingers unbutton my jeans, I don’t try to stop him. And when those fingers slip inside my underwear, I show them where to touch me so there’s a chance I’ll enjoy what comes next. He pushes my pants down. I kick them off one foot.
I don’t have to do this. I know I don’t, but … I don’t know what else to do. It’s not like he’s trying to hurt me. Not like he isn’t cute. Not like I don’t want him to want me. I do want him to want me. To like me. To think I’m special.
“You’re so fucking hot,” he tells me, unzipping his fly. On my back, I let Mike shove himself inside me. A little sigh escapes me as a door in my mind opens, and I walk through into someplace else. I stare up at the ceiling. I barely feel it. I’m not there anymore. There’s no party, no hot breath in my ear.
For the first time since walking in his front door, I finally feel comfortable. I feel like I’m where I’m supposed to be.
I’m Poppy.
chapter eight
“You had sex with Mike?” Elsa wrinkles her nose. “Why?”
What Unbreakable Looks Like Page 9
