Broken

Chapter One

Natalia

I can see Cam through the window, standing by his car and talking to my mom.

His hands are in his pockets and his face is pleading. My mom’s arms are crossed over her chest, and from the look on her face, I can tell exactly what it is that she’s saying.

She’s telling Cam that he’s not allowed to see me anymore and that he should go home.

He looks up and our eyes meet through the window.

Wait for me, I think. I’ll come down after she’s gone, just wait for me.

I hear my mom coming back inside, shutting the door behind. Her footsteps echo through the hallway, moving back toward the family room, and then, after a few seconds, the TV turns on.

I grab a sweatshirt off the back of my desk chair, then run down the stairs and out the front door. But when I get there, the driveway is empty. Cam’s gone. I run down to the street, looking for his mom’s car, hoping that maybe he just drove around the corner or something so that my mom wouldn’t catch us. But I don’t see him anywhere.

“Cam!” I yell, even though I know he won’t be able to hear me. My knees start to feel weak, and I have the overwhelming urge to collapse onto the driveway, to just lie there and start crying. I have no way of getting in touch with Cam. I can’t call his cell phone, because he doesn’t have it anymore, and I can’t call his house phone, because he won’t be back home yet.

After a long moment of taking deep breaths of the cool night air, I force myself back up the driveway and back through my front door. I stand in the foyer for a minute, listening for sounds of movement from the family room. But the only thing I hear is the dull sound of the television.

Luckily, my mom hasn’t heard me go outside. She must have figured that since I didn’t come downstairs when Cam first got here, that I was accepting her wishes not to see him.

I walk quietly back upstairs and into my mom’s room. I pick the cordless up off the table by her bed, and punch in Cam’s house number. After three rings, his mom answers.

“Hello?” Her voice sounds a little slurred, like she just woke up, but I can hear the sounds of pots and pans clanging in the background.

“Hi, Mrs. Elliot,” I say. “This is Natalia. I’m, um, calling for Cam.”

“Campbell’s not here.” Her voice is definitely slurred, but it’s a controlled slur now, and I can tell she’s trying to curb it for my benefit. “I’m not sure, but I think he might be with Raine Marsden or perhaps at football practice.”

At the mention of Raine’s name, I feel my heart skip a beat. But then I remember there’s no way Cam could be with Raine, and he’s obviously not at football practice either, since he was just at my house. Which means that Mrs. Elliot is most likely drunk out of her mind.

“Can you tell him I called?” I ask, even though I know she probably won’t even remember speaking to me.

“Of course,” she says. “I’ll tell him you called as soon as he gets back. I’m making him dinner. Macaroni and cheese, his favorite.” She sounds proud.

“That’s great,” I say. “I’m sure he’ll appreciate that.”

“What did you say your name was again?”

“This is Natalia.”

“Natalia. Okay, dear, I’ll let him know.”

“Thanks.”

I hang up the phone and sit there for a second. If he doesn’t call me back in an hour, I’ll call him again.

***

Half an hour later, I’m back in my room, lying on my bed and staring at the ceiling, when there’s a knock on the front door. Cam. I race downstairs, determined not to let my mom beat me to it this time. Let her call the police on me if she wants. I don’t care. I can’t stand the thought of Cam thinking that I didn’t come outside, that I turned my back on him. I can’t stand the thought of not being with him right now.

But when I throw open the front door, it’s not Cam that’s standing on the porch.

It’s Brody.

“Brody,” I say, feeling all the breath rush out of me in one big wave of disappointment.

“Wow,” he says. “Don’t sound too excited to see me or anything.”

“No,” I say. “I’m not… I mean, I just…I thought it was going to be Cam.”

At the mention of Cam’s name, a cloud passes over Brody’s face, but it’s only for a split second, and then it’s gone. “Why?” he asks. “Is everything okay?”

I shake my head no, and he takes a step toward me. But before I can say anything else, the sound of angry footsteps comes echoing through the front hall.

My mom’s like a woman possessed, her eyes flashing, her stride heavy and purposeful. I step away from the door, but when she sees that it’s Brody, her face instantly softens. As much as I was disappointed to see Brody, my mom is relieved.

“Brody,” she says. “What a nice surprise. What are you doing here?”

“Hi, Ms. Moore,” he says. “Nice to see you again.”

“Please,” she says. “Call me Beth.”

I sigh.

“I was just coming over to make sure Natalia was okay,” Brody says. “I’d been trying her cell all weekend and I couldn’t reach her, so I figured I’d stop by. I’m sorry it’s so late on a school night. I just got worried.”

“Oh, no, no, that’s fine,” my mom says. “You’re sweet to check on her. Would you like to come in and have a snack?”

Brody looks at me and raises his eyebrows, asking me if it’s okay. Suddenly, out of nowhere, I want Brody to stay. He’s one of the only people I can talk to about what’s been going on, and if I can’t talk to Cam, he’s second best.

“Yeah,” I say. “You should stay.”

“Please,” my mom says. “I have a chocolate cake I made yesterday.”

“Okay,” he says, and gives me a smile before slipping in the door.

***

Twenty minutes later, with empty plates of cake and drained glasses of milk on the table in front of us, my mom stands up.

“Well,” she says, stretching her arms out behind her. “If you’ll excuse me, I have a Dancing with the Stars on the DVR.”

“You sure you want to admit that, Mom?” I ask. I fork up a stray crumb of cake that’s left on my plate. I didn’t think I would be able to eat, but the chocolate tasted amazing, and I ended up having two pieces.

“It’s my one guilty pleasure, Brody,” she says. “And I’m only able to watch it on my nights off. So don’t tell me who gets voted off if you already know.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Brody says. He gets up and helps her start clearing the table. Once the dishes are in the sink and my mom’s gone back to the TV, the whole vibe in the dining room changes. Before, when my mom was here, it was like Brody and I were playing roles and trying act like everything was fine. My mom was playing along, too, probably figuring that if I wanted Brody to know what was going on, I would tell him myself. It felt forced, but it also felt good in some weird way, because I could pretend that everything was normal.

“So where have you been?” Brody asks nonchalantly. His tone is the same as it was when my mom was here and they were making small talk -- friendly, polite, inquiring. But I know he’s asking a lot more than just where I was this weekend.

“Let’s go in the living room,” I say, standing up. Once we’re there, I sit down on the couch, expecting him to take a seat in the chair across from me. But instead, he sits down next to me, so close that his leg is touching mine.

“Natalia,” he says, looking into my eyes. “What’s going on?”

I don’t know if I can tell him. I think I can trust him, but I’m not sure. And it feels wrong somehow, sitting here with Brody, telling him things that I should be telling Cam. Then again, I’m not allowed to talk to Cam. And even though Cam and Brody have had their issues, my gut tells me that deep down, Brody’s a good guy.

“I don’t know if I can talk about it,” I say. But then, a second later, it’s all coming out. The whole thing. How I woke up on the beach, not being able to remember anything. How Cam told me we were at the witch’s compound in Maine, that I brought Raine with me and that she killed Hadley. How I ended up at the hospital this morning.

How my mom had to come and get me, and how she thinks Cam did something horrible to me.

“But he didn’t,” I say. I didn’t even realize I was crying, but I am. It strikes me that I’ve been crying so much lately that it’s almost become normal. I can’t even tell anymore when I’m doing it because it’s just somehow become my default.

“He wouldn’t have done anything like that,” Brody says, nodding, and I appreciate this about him. Even though he and Cam have their issues, Brody knows that Cam would never hurt me.

“I know he wouldn’t,” I say, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand. “But try telling that to my mom.”

“Natalia,” Brody says. “You…you don’t remember anything from this weekend?”

“No,” I say. “Nothing.”

He sighs, leans forward on the couch, and rests his elbows on his knees. He rubs his eyes with his fingers, then puts his head in his hands.

“Why?” I ask. “Are you… Do you know something about what happened to me?”

He doesn’t say anything.

“Brody,” I say, “If you know something about what happened to me or what I was doing, you have to tell me.”

“I saw you,” he says, turning his head and looking at me. “After the football game, you… you came back to my house.”

“I did?”

“Yes.” He nods and sits back up on the couch. “You wanted help. You were asking me questions about Raine.”

“Okay,” I say, thinking about it. “That makes sense.” I believe him. It’s definitely logical that I would go to Brody for answers, hoping that maybe he’d tell me something that could help.

“But, Natalia, I gave you an iPad. Do you remember that?”

I shake my head. “No,” I say. “I don’t remember any of that.”

I see the look that flashes over his face, a look of dread and sickness. “I wasn’t supposed to give that to you,” he says. “It’s not… it’s not really my place to help you, but I did.”

“Okay.” I nod. “It was probably in my mom’s car.”

“And where’s your mom’s car now?” he asks.

“It got incinerated at the compound,” I say. “At least, that’s what Cam said. I don’t remember. So I’m guessing it was probably destroyed.”

“Are you sure?”

“No,” I say, frustrated. “I’m not sure. I told you, I don’t remember anything.”

He doesn’t say anything, just stares straight ahead.

“Why?” I ask. “What’s the problem? Can you get in trouble if someone finds out you gave it to me?”

“Yes,” he says. “That’s not my main concern right now though. The thing about that iPad… Natalia, if it falls into the wrong hands, it could be a really big problem.”

It’s the first time I’ve ever heard Brody sound scared. “How big of a problem?” I ask.

He doesn’t answer, just looks down at the floor. “Pretty big.”

“I’m sorry,” I say, starting to cry again. “This whole thing is my fault.”

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “Don’t say that. It’s not your fault.”

He reaches out and pulls me close. For a second, I want to pull back, because it feels weird being close to someone who’s not Cam. But then, his arms are holding me, and my head is against his chest, and it feels so safe, safer than I’ve felt all day. He strokes my hair and I close my eyes, allowing myself to get lost in the moment.

Chapter Two

Campbell

As we drive toward the golf course, Kaci and I both fall silent. Something about this is awkward. Of course it’s fucking awkward. You’ve got a girlfriend and this is Brody’s little sister.

I turn the radio on low and think about Nat looking down at me from her bedroom window while her mom yelled at me.

Why didn’t she come down and say something?

“You seem upset,” Kaci says.

I glance at her out of the corner of my eye. I always think of her as Brody’s little sister, but she’s definitely not looking so little tonight. She’s dressed in tight jeans and her jacket is open, revealing a tight red shirt. She has a really pretty face and wide blue eyes. Thankfully, she looks nothing like her idiot brother.

“Sorry,” I say. “I guess I’m not in the best mood. Which is why Derek was able to push my buttons back there.”

She laughs. “Derek can push anyone’s buttons, bad mood or not.” She starts messing with the radio, scanning through the stations before settling on a slow, guitar-heavy alternative song. She turns the volume up slightly, and the soft melody fills the car.

“Why do you hang out with that dude?” I ask her. “He’s a total scumbag.”

“Eh. He’s not really as bad as he seems.”

“No. He is that bad. Maybe worse.”

She sighs. “Derek can be an asshole. I mean, I know that in the past he’s been pretty mean to Natalia. But he’s been there for me, so…”

We turn onto Concord Street, heading toward the Santa Anna Public Golf Course.

“Yeah,” I say. “I get that it’s hard to hate someone who’s been nice to you. But even assholes can be nice once in a while if it suits them.”