Breaking Beautiful (30 page)

Part of me wants to let it all go—curl up against his chest and tell him everything. But I can’t let him bear the burden for something that was my fault. I can’t make him think he failed, or know that I did, that I wasn’t the tough soldier he raised me to be.

I don’t say anything.

The silence hangs between us—the weight of so many years of his being gone presses against me. He puts his arm around me and squeezes. I grit my teeth and retreat to a place inside where I don’t have to feel anything. Finally he pulls away.

“There’s one more thing.” His voice is grave. “The fire, and that boy at the dance, and the whole thing with your locker, has people talking. They’re demanding that Chief Milton reopen the investigation into Trip’s accident, none more loudly than Roger Phillips.” My eyes flutter open and I watch his hands clench and unclench. “I’ve heard Blake’s name thrown around a lot. I don’t want to see this turned into a witch hunt. If you remember anything, now’s the time.”

Chapter
43

After Dad leaves I lean back against the pillow and keep my eyes closed. I want to take the blue pills and curl up under the covers and shut everything out. But I can’t hide, not anymore. I have to fix the mess I’ve made. I have to face … whatever comes.

I get dressed carefully—brown dress pants and a blue button-down shirt, something Trip bought for me to wear to a business lunch his dad dragged us to. I don’t even try to cover the scar. Today I want everyone to see it. I want Mr. Phillips to see it, because somehow, I know Trip caused it.

I get in Mom’s car, take a deep breath, and head for the inn.

The smile on Mr. Phillips’s secretary’s face freezes when she sees me. “Mr. Phillips is in a meeting.”

“I can wait.” I plunk myself down on the leather couch across from her desk.

“It might be a—” she starts, but the door to the office opens.

The first man out I recognize as the city council guy from the dance. I’m guessing the next two out are also members of the city council. Marjorie Phillips comes out next, wrapped in dark brown fur. Her eyes are on the ground so she doesn’t see me.

Mr. Phillips doesn’t see me at first, either. He’s focused on the man he’s talking to. When he sees me his smile turns into a grimace. He wipes it away quick and comes across the room to me. “Allie, what a pleasant surprise.” He’s smiling but there’s nothing pleasant about the look in his eyes.

I don’t take his outstretched hand. The speech I had formulated on the way over disappears. I’m left with four words. “You fired my mom.”

Mr. Phillip’s face twists. “I don’t think—”

I plunge forward. “You canceled the contract that Blake’s grandma had with the inn. And I’m guessing”—I look around at the other people in the room, but none of them will meet my eye—“that this meeting is to discuss why displaying paintings that were done by an artist with a criminal record would be a stain on the town.” The look that passes between the city council members tells me I’m right.

Mrs. Phillips speaks up. “The historical committee doesn’t feel that the pictures portray the right—”

“Have you seen them?” I challenge her. She glances at her husband. Fear flashes in her eyes. “Have any of you seen the paintings that Blake did?”

Mr. Phillips reaches to put his hand on my shoulder, but this time I step away. He sighs. “Your friend Blake’s criminal record aside, the paintings are amatueristic and, unfortunately, destroyed. As for the other matters, my contract with Mrs. Evans
is none of your business, and this is neither the time nor the place to discus your mother’s indiscretions.” He leans closer, so only I can hear him. “You have no idea who you’re dealing with.”

I answer like everyone in the room heard his last statement. “No, Mr. Phillips, I know exactly who I’m dealing with. I went to seven different schools. I know a bully when I see one.”

I look around the room. “How much money did he offer to throw at some civic project if you didn’t display Blake’s paintings?” One man coughs and looks away. A woman pretends to check her watch, another brushes some lint off her sleeve. I make sure I make eye contact with every one of them before I turn and walk away.

I maintain my dignity until I get back in Mom’s car. Then I collapse onto the seat. I press the stone as alternating waves of triumph and dread pass over my body. Mostly, the triumph wins out.

.........

Mom is sitting at the table in her bathrobe, no makeup, hair straight and flat, stirring a cup of coffee when I get home. She barely answers my greeting. I could tell her everything that happened in Mr. Phillips’s office and it probably wouldn’t register. I could tell her everything that Trip did to me while we were dating and she wouldn’t even blink.

I go into the bathroom, wet down a washcloth, and press it over my freaky eye because my scar is threatening to explode.

Voices from Andrew’s room stop me. It sounds like arguing. Andrew is upset. I can hear him stammering. I lean my
head against the door as a fit of coughing stops whatever he was trying to say.

Caitlyn is yelling at him through the computer, cussing him out. The urge to protect him races through my blood. I push the door open with the idea that I’m going to stop her before she really hurts him.

“Caitlyn, what’s your problem?” I burst in. Andrew’s still coughing, doubled over in his chair.

“Allie, thank goodness,” Caitlyn says. “I need you to talk some sense into him. Doesn’t he sound terrible? I told him he needs to go to a doctor, I told him—”

“Baby me,” Andrew sputters. “Like Mom. I’m not a baby. I’m tougher—” He breathes in hard. “Tougher than you think. Any of you.”

“Talk to him.” Caitlyn sounds really worried. “His cough keeps getting worse.”

“Can take care of myself.” Andrew waves wildly with his good hand. “Mind your own business.”

“Andrew, I—”

He does the impossible, hangs up on Caitlyn. Then he turns his chair around to face me, fire blazing in his eyes. “No one tells me,” he breathes, “anything! Mom’s job! Dad’s shop! And you!” He starts coughing again. Caitlyn’s right. He does sound bad. He breathes in a wheeze. “You all think I’m helpless, you all think I can’t handle anything.”

I walk over and put my hand on his shoulder. “I didn’t mean to—I didn’t know a lot about anything, either.” Andrew coughs again. I bend over him—concern for my brother erases everything. “You sound bad.”

He leans forward in his chair. “Just”—he wheezes—“stress. Everyone. School, family, and Caitlyn on my back. I’m fine. A stupid cough. Mom has too much now. Don’t tell. I’m an adult. I can—” Breathes hard. “You don’t have to take care of me.”

“You’re right.” I kneel down so I’m next to him. “But we take care of each other, right? You’ve taken care of me plenty of times.”

He smiles a sad smile and reaches to touch my hair, gets his fingers caught in my curls, and pulls away. “Not now. Too much for Mom. If it gets too bad, I’ll see a doctor. Promise.”

“Okay, I’ll wait. But call Caitlyn back. She’s just worried because she loves you.”

His face lights up. “Do you think?”

I rumple his hair. “Yeah, little brother. I do.”

Chapter
44

I’m drowning in a sea of red and green—satiny red against my skin, swirling green covering my legs. Getting in my way. And all around me more green—shapes moving and blending together. I’m trying to run, but the shapes reach for me, fingers grasping at my dress, pulling my hair, tearing into my arms. I push past them, my blood pounding in my ears, my lungs burning. A spot of white in the middle of the green. Someone is there.

“Help, please help me!”

But the wind tears my voice away before it reaches him. I turn and look behind me. Something grabs my leg. I’m caught. I jerk against it and fall. Spikes dig into my legs and my hands as I try to claw the vines away from my legs to stand. But it’s too late. I feel hands on my shoulders dragging me to my feet.

I wake up with a jolt. My scar throbs. I sit up slowly and try to come out of the dream. This time I want to remember. I’m
missing something important. I know I am. I rub the scar over my eye. The fingers were tree branches. My leg was caught in a blackberry vine.

I know who I was running from.

I’m almost sure I was trying to get to Blake.

My whole body goes cold. I slide out of bed and cross the floor to my closet, like I’ll find the answer there. The garment bag is in the back, where Mom hung it. I haven’t touched it since cotillion. I hook my fingers under the hanger and pull it out. I forgot how heavy the dress was, long and full, tight on top, and suffocating.

I carry it across the room and lay it on my bed. I hesitate. I’ve dreamed so many times that it contained Trip’s body that I’m afraid to open it. I breathe in and force my fingers to move. The zipper sounds loud in the quiet room. The red satin looks gray in the pale light of almost dawn. I reach above my bed and turn on the light. Slowly, hesitantly, I touch the dress.

“Do you like it? It’s to wear to the dance.”

I trace the lacy patterns on the front.

“But it’s not a birthday present.”

I slide my fingers around the edges of the dress and slide it out of the bag. Spread it out on the bed so I can see everything. The skirt is snagged and ripped. A strip of the underskirt is torn off and hangs below the hem. The lace in front is spattered with little brown spots. When I turn it over, the back is covered in bigger splotches that are the same color as the ones on the white sweater. My blood.

My scar throbs.

“I’m saving something special to give you on your birthday.”

I pick up both pieces of the tigereye from my nightstand and press them into my hand.

I close my eyes, breathe in deep, and will myself to remember.

“Close your eyes and hold out your hand.”

The blood rushes around in my head.

“Do you like it? I had it designed especially for you
.”

“
It’s so beautiful. The swirls of gold and silver remind me of waves.”

“That’s what I wanted you to think. The main diamond is two carats. The side stones are a carat each. And look, tigereye. Like your eye. I always felt bad that I didn’t buy you that necklace at the fair.”

“This must have cost a fortune
.”

“
Nothing’s too good for my girl. I want you to wear it. Forever. It’s an engagement ring.”

The dawn filters through my blinds. I press my fists into my eyes to shut out the tears and the colors that blend into one another. My head is throbbing, pulsing between the scar over my eye and the one in the back of my head. I grit my teeth and will the memories to keep coming.

“No.” My answer slips through my lips with a tiny wisp of courage
.

He looks at me in utter disbelief. “What did you say?
”

“I said no.” My voice gets stronger. “I won’t marry you. I won’t live like this anymore.”

“What?” His eyes snap. “I’ve given you everything you ever wanted. Spent all that money on you.” He shakes his head hard. “You can’t say no to me.”

I know I am pushing him to the edge. But I don’t back down. I don’t even look away. “I just did, Trip. I’m done with this.”

“But I love you, Allie. No one will ever love you the way I do.”

Blake’s face flashes in my mind; he’s standing outside the inn, telling me I don’t have to leave with Trip, telling me that Trip doesn’t own me. I grip the tigereye through my purse. “You don’t love me. If you loved me you wouldn’t do the things you do to me. You wouldn’t hit me. You wouldn’t ever hurt me.”

He stands up and jerks me to my feet. “It’s Juvie, isn’t it?”

I look him right in the eye. “No. This isn’t about Blake. It’s about me. I deserve better.”

I saw the lightning in his eyes and I knew I had pushed him further than I had ever pushed him before. I had to get away. I made him think I threw the ring into the bushes so he would be distracted, so he would let go of me. But I kept it. Even after he started chasing me. Even when I knew he was going to kill me. I kept the ring.

I set the tigereye back on the nightstand and pull the dress all the way out of the bag. I search through it, inside the folds of the skirt, pick it up and shake it out. Then I dig around the bottom of the bag. The little white purse that I took to the dance isn’t here. I slipped the ring inside it as I ran.

I pick up the tigereye again and press it into my hand so the two pieces slide apart and it cuts into my palm. I had the tigereye with me that night, too. I kept it in the white purse.

Blake.

Sickness washes over me and fills my throat and heart. I can’t breathe, like I’m drowning. He brought it back to me. If he found the tigereye, he must have found the ring. Nausea, anger, and fear mix together in my stomach.

What happened to Trip after he caught me? I know he caught me. I know he’s responsible for the scar on the back of my head
and the one over my eye. I’ve always known. And Blake was there that night. A white T-shirt, my only hope, my bright spot in a sea of green. I was running toward him.

Detective Weeks has his T-shirt, covered in my blood, or maybe someone else’s.

I think about the knife Blake keeps with him.

Protection.

What if there was a fight? What if Blake saw Trip do something to me and he tried to protect me?

I press the tigereye until one piece slips through my fingers and bounces onto the carpet. What if Detective Weeks knows about the ring?

What will happen if he finds out that Blake has it?

Chapter
45

The dress goes back in the bag and to the farthest corner of my closet. I get dressed as fast as I can. I stuff all the money I have from my pawned goods in my bag and go in for breakfast.