Breakable (13 page)

It
wasn’t until Belinda tapped Dex on the shoulder, interrupting, that I had a
chance to glance at the clock and realize we’d already been there fifteen
minutes. Unscathed.

Unbelievable.

“…coming
to the party on Friday, right? It’s at Finn’s house.” Belinda had rested her
elbows on the arm of the couch, which meant they were pressed up against Dex’s
arm.

“Uh,
sure.”

“Wait,
Finn’s house?” I interrupted without thinking. “I thought it was at Lisa’s?”

Belinda
gave me a haughty look. “Change of plans,” she said shortly, and turned back to
Dex.

My
nerves spiraled. Mark wanted me to go to that party. But it was at Finn’s. No way
Finn would want me there. Yet… if I could get in, it might be my chance to get
the letter back. Finn was notorious for throwing big, noisy parties, getting
really drunk and passing out with a girl in his bed. Surely somewhere in that
process I could search his room?

Dex
glanced at me and winked. “Stacy’s invited too, right?” He turned back to
Belinda with an innocent smile.

Belinda
looked at me, then looked at him, then forced a brittle smile.

“Sure!”
she said, over-brightly.

“Great,”
he said and turned to me.

“So,
I was thinking–” Belinda started.

But
Dex locked eyes with me and his grin warmed. “Do you wanna go to the party with
me Friday, Stace?”

I
couldn’t help smiling at the incredulous expression on Belinda’s face.

“Sure!”
I said, mimicking her.

“Great!”
Dex said again. “So I was thinking–”

Belinda
jerked to her feet and stomped across the room. Dex and I both watched her go,
then burst into laughter when she threw open the door and stormed out.

Several
nearby conversations quieted around us. I hushed Dex, but couldn’t get rid of
the giggles completely.

When
the voices around us rose again, I chuckled and gave him a wink. “Nice.”

“Thank
you.” He spread his arms and pretended to take a bow.

“She’s
going to hate you for that, you know.”

Dex
shrugged. “I doubt it.” He chewed his lip. Then looked right at me. “She might
hate you though.”

I
felt my smile falter and slide away. “Yeah, probably.”

“Don’t
worry,” he said. “I’m a novelty. It will wear off soon. Then she’ll hate me
again too.”

I
doubted that, but I didn’t want to talk about it here.

An
awkward silence rose between us suddenly. I didn’t know what to say.

“I
was serious, you know,” Dex said a moment later, his arm on the back of the
couch again.

“About
what?”

“About
Friday. I’ll take you to the party if you want to come.”

I
froze.

Dex
leaned his temple on the hand furthest from me. His eyes never left my face.

“Um…
don’t you think… I mean, when she invited you–”

“She
was serious when she invited me. And I’m inviting you. If you want to come?”

I
looked away, chewing on my lip. I knew what Older Me would think. But she
didn’t know about the letter. And if I was going to do this, going with Dex
would be even better than showing up with Mark. Mark would pay attention if I
disappeared for twenty minutes.

“That
would be great,” I said, before I could chicken out.

“Cool,”
Dex said.

I
just nodded. I’d just noticed Finn had left. Which meant Mark and Karyn were
alone on the other couch. They stared at each other, speaking too low to be
heard. Her hand was on his knee. He had the fingers of one hand running through
a little piece of her hair. I had to physically wrench my gaze away from them.

“You
okay, Stace?” Dex’s frown had returned. “You look a little pale.”

“Yes.
Yes, I’m fine.”

No.
No, I’m not.

Chapter Fifteen

The
rest of the week passed…quietly. I’m sure things happened. I’m sure people
spoke to me. But I walked through it feeling like I watched it all through a telescope.
Voices were distant. Images blurred at the edges. Even the thumps and sneers
felt like they came from the other side of a wall.

A
sense of dread so hard and heavy it had weight to bear me to the ground, had
descended the minute I saw the letter in Finn’s hand. I was a window, fragile
glass, and Finn stood outside, hefting a rock. Smiling.

All
I could do was wait for Friday.

I
would go to the party. I would pretend to be making friends. And I would find
the letter. Burn it. Remove the weapon from his hand.

Then
I could tell Mark the truth safely.

Safer,
anyway.

“This
is a terrible idea, Stacy. I can’t believe you’re actually going to go through
with it!”

Older
Me stood in the mirror, arms crossed under her ample boobs, gaping at me like I
was insane. Which, given the way I’d walked through this week in a cloud, was
more than possible I supposed.

Maybe
she really
was
a figment of my imagination. Oh, dear Lord, maybe I was
headed for the nuthouse after all.

“
Stacy
.”
She snapped her fingers in front of my face. “What is going
on
with
you?”

What
was going on was that I was
sick
of the conversation. She’d been
relentless in trying to talk me out of going to this party. I didn’t have
energy for the conversation anymore. Especially with Mom there.

There
was a make-up brush in my hand. I blinked, realizing I’d been standing there
doing nothing but stare at Older Me. I hurriedly returned to dabbing the brush
across my cheekbone.

“No,
no,
no
, Stacy.” Mom growled from behind me. She reached over my shoulder
and took the brush. “You’re going to make yourself look like a clown, for
goodness sake.” She gritted her teeth and leaned forward, the hand with the
brush hovering near my ear. “Now, watch: You don’t poke at yourself with it,
you shake to remove the excess–” and here she flicked the brush. Light from the
window behind her lit on the tiny motes of blush drifting towards the carpet.
“–then you draw it lightly across your skin just once or twice. It shouldn’t
even be noticeable.”

I
met Mom’s eyes in the reflection, ignoring the increasingly agitated looks
Older Me was giving from over my other shoulder. “If it isn’t noticeable,
what’s the point?”

Mom
dropped her face into her free hand and muttered something obscene. “Do you remember
nothing
I taught you when you were thirteen?”

Answer:
No. Not really.

When
I was thirteen, Mom had decided the arrival of my period heralded my
“blossoming” as a woman. For a couple weeks she’d dragged me into her room
almost every night to show me make up and – horrors – to give me lessons in
flirting.
I’d very nearly died of pure mortification.

You’re
a woman now, Stacy. You need to learn to act like one. Men will always be
physically stronger. But if you understand how to emphasize your
assets
, you’ll have some power over
them. Girls will want to be you. Guys will want to be with you.

It
was the most ridiculous pile of crap I’d ever heard. I’d done everything
possible to erase it from my memory.

Those
were the days I finally realized my mother was an idiot.

“I…uh…I
mean, it’s been a while,” I said.

“Well,”
she said through her teeth, “the idea is that the makeup isn’t
consciously
noticeable.
No one should be looking at stripes of red across a girl’s cheekbones. They
should just look at her and think about how…pretty she is.” Mom’s eyes dropped
to my waist and she faltered. Turned to her little bag of miracles to get
something else to paint me with. I waited…but the natural compliment wasn’t
forthcoming.

“Right,”
I managed, finally.

Older
Me groaned. “Ignore her,” she muttered.

I
wished I could. I’d regretted asking Mom to help me get ready for the party
almost as soon as she clapped her hands and ran for her bag of tricks.

Now,
while I knew I probably looked better than I ever had – my face was smooth and
soft, gently shadowed. And my hair fell in soft waves below my shoulders due to
some trick Mom knew with the tongs – I felt worse than ever.

“Don’t
worry, Stacy. It’s all relative. No one’s used to seeing you like this, so
they’ll think you look
great
.”

The
pure cruelty of the back-handed compliment left me speechless.

Older
Me shook her head. “This was a bad idea to begin with. She’s making it worse.
You don’t have to do this, Stacy. I mean it. Stay away from this party.”

For
the first time, I heard a note of panic in her voice. I met her gaze, trying
not to be obvious about my questions, while Mom prattled on about how to walk
into a room like you owned it. Strange, I’d always thought she was born walking
around as if her farts were gold-plated. I hadn’t realized she’d cultivated the
talent.

Older
Me met my eyes, biting her bottom lip. If Mom hadn’t been there, I would have
asked Older Me
again
why she was so frantic – what she knew. Her
insistence made me nervous. My frustration was through the roof that she
wouldn’t just tell me what she thought was going to happen. What happened to
her. But Mom was there, so…

“…such
a pity. You’d be
so
pretty if you just lost a little weight.” Mom sighed
dramatically and dug through her bag again. I imagined clocking her over the
head with the perfume bottle she’d left at my feet.

“Oh!
I do still have the glitter! That would look great on your arms–”

“
Glitter?!”
Older Me and I cried simultaneously.

Mom’s
face snapped up, her eyebrows high. “Well, not
glitter
, but shimmer–”

“No!
No, that’s it. I’m done.” I put my hands up to wave off whatever it was she was
pulling out of her bag. “This is fine. This is all I need, Mom. Thank you,” I
finished, working hard not to let the sarcasm into my tone.

“Stacy,
there’s still–”

“No,
Mom. I’m done. I’m not putting on glitter, or anything else now. So just…just
leave so I can finish getting ready please.”

Mom
stared at me for a long moment, then she nodded. “If that’s the way you want
it.”

“Yes,
it is. Now please–”

“Then
there’s only one more thing I need to give you,” she said quietly, and in a
tone I’d never heard before. It was stilted. Almost wistful. And she didn’t
meet my eyes as her hand lifted out of the bag, clutching a small, shiny
packet.

I
frowned, uncertain, until she extended her hand and I realized the shiny pack
pinched between her fingers was thin, and square.

“A
condom, Mom?!
Really
?!” I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “You
can’t be–”

“I’m
very serious,” she said, and gone was the flighty, melodramatic tone she’d been
using all night, as if we were in a movie or something.

Behind
me, Older Me made a strange noise. But I couldn’t turn away from Mom. I gaped.

“Stacy,
I know this is your first party…and you probably don’t really know what to
expect. I wish we’d had time to sort of…grow you into this. But the fact is,
your school friends are getting up to all kinds of things and they have been
for years. This…Dan, boy–”

“Dex,”
I corrected out of reflex.

“Dex,”
she repeated, still not meeting my eyes. “He may have…expectations. And I don’t
want you going into that kind of thing unprepared.”

Oh.
My. G–

“Take
it,” Older Me hissed. “Just take it and nod and pretend.”

“I’m
not taking that!” I snapped at both of them. “I’m not having sex with Dex!” The
idiocy of the rhyme tickled something in me that was horrified by this entire
conversation. I swallowed the laugh that rose. It hurt going down.

“You
might not be
planning
to…” Mom said carefully.

“I’m
not planning to because I’m not
going
to.”

“We
all think that when we’re standing in the light of day. But when you’re with a
boy and he’s–”

“You’re
my
mother
!” I shrieked. “You’re supposed to be telling me to wait for
love and…and not to undervalue myself. And to make sure I’m respected! Or
something!”

Mom
twitched. Then finally met my eyes. Her face was suddenly pale. Drawn. She
looked like she was about to throw up. “Those are all great ideas, Stacy. But
the reality for a lot of girls is that that isn’t an option. If you want to
keep a guy’s interest–”

“You’re
seriously telling me to use sex to keep a guy interested in me?!”

Her
lips thinned. “I’m telling you I would understand if you did.”

“You’re
terrible! You are absolutely the worst mother!”

Mom’s
head snapped back as if I’d slapped her. But the irritation and anger I’d felt
all night was curling into rage. I was horrified. I couldn’t believe my own
mother
–

Older
Me’s voice broke through. “Don’t make her–”

“You’re
a–”

“Don’t
you dare,” Mom hissed. She leaned in, waving the condom in my face. “I’m trying
to
help
you. You’ve needed it for years. I don’t know what possessed
that boy to invite you tonight, but he did. And I’m telling you, this is your
chance for something like a normal high school experience. I’m
helping
you.
You ungrateful little–”

“So
I should take advice from you?” I laughed, but even to my ears it sounded
forced and brittle. “You can walk around like you own the place all you want,
Mother
,
but you’re still a flowershop owner whose husband left her for a younger woman,
and who hasn’t been on a date in two years. But maybe I’ve got it all wrong–”

Older
Me swore.

“–maybe
you don’t bother with the dating part? Maybe you just jump into bed–”

I
didn’t even see her hand move, just felt the ringing slap on my cheek, saw a
crack of lightening across my vision.

When
I’d taken a breath, we stood toe-to-toe in front of the mirror. Her breath
sucked in and out as if she’d been running. Mine was locked inside. Until it
all came out in a rush on the words, “Better do the other side too. Otherwise
my blush will be uneven.”

I
saw it coming this time, saw her hand fly. I tried to duck, but she was too
quick.

Now
both my cheeks stung. Heat rose in them and I was sure there would be hand
prints.

“Are
you finished?” Mom held my gaze, her jaw hard, hands clenched to fists at her
sides now.

I
waited. Her chest rose and fell too fast. Mine too slowly.

Why
was she like this? Why couldn’t she be someone who complimented me even when I
didn’t deserve it? Weren’t mothers supposed to be biased
towards
their
own children?

If
she’d just say something nice. Or something…hopeful, I’d apologize. Just to be
able to tell myself she saw something good in me. Even though every word I’d
said was true.

But
she just stared, looking like she wanted to bite me.

“Most
of the girls in your class would
kill
to have a mother like me,” she
muttered.

“Too
bad I’m not one of them.”

Her
eyes widened and her knuckles turned white. For a second, the seething fury on
her face made my courage falter. She’d already slapped me twice. I wasn’t sure
I could stand up to whatever came next.

But
then there was a faint knock at the front door.

Dex
was here to pick me up.

Mom
slapped the condom into one of my hands, then shoved past me without another word,
slamming my door behind her.

For
a second I was sure she’d send Dex away – and I felt relieved. But then I
remembered Finn and the letter.

“Stacy?”
Older Me breathed from the mirror.

I
turned. The look on her face – pure pain – took my breath away.

“Please.
Don’t go to the party,” she said quietly.

“Don’t
you start.” Truth was, I wished I could take her advice. But she didn’t know
about the letter. If she found out about that, she’d hate me too.

The
sound of footsteps down the hallway broke though everything else.

Mom
sent him to my room?!

With
a little yelp, I turned circles looking for my purse. But there was a light
knock on my door.

“Stacy?”
Dex said quietly. The door started to open. I shoved the condom deep into my
pocket and stepped up to the mirror, playing with my hair as if I was trying to
get it to lay right. “Hey, you look great!” he said from the now-open doorway.