Beautifully Broken

Books and notebooks on top. Toiletry bag with shampoo, hairbrush, toothbrush and toothpaste and bag of makeup on the bottom. At one point, I practically lived out of my locker and my shoulder bag. This was before Mamma T made me move back in with her, before the party, when she thought my life was just normal teenage-sucky.

A mirror and a matching pink wire basket filled with pens and pencils are stuck to the back of the door. Underneath it, my favorite picture. Mama T snapped it on my tenth birthday. I’m in the middle in my bright yellow bathing suit, one arm around Logan, the other around Cooper. It was the first birthday party I’d ever had and by far the most memorable.

After grabbing the books for my next two classes, I quickly rearrange everything to make the flowers fit inside.

“Want me to walk you?” he asks when I close the door.

“Won’t you be late?”

“Maybe, but I’ll take fifteen minutes of detention if it gets me one more minute with you.

Feeling my cheeks heat, I nod because I don’t trust my words. They might tell him he’s the best thing to happen to me. They might ask if he has a burger to go with that cheese. Or worse, there might not be any words. It wouldn’t be the first time they’ve left me when I needed them most.

I slide into class just as the door is closing. My professor, Mr. Greene, grunts in disapproval but lets me in without causing a scene. I take a seat at the only open table at the front of the room. The table no one likes because you’re a target. Not only from Mr. Greene, but from our classmates too. Two minutes later the door opens again. I take my book out of my bag and duck my head, thankful the attention is off me, even if it’s only for a few minutes.

“You’re late,” Mr. Greene growls.

Silently, a body finds its way into the stool next to mine. The person, who I’m trying my hardest not to look at, nudges my arm with his elbow. His cologne closes the space between us, swirling in my nostrils. My gaze snaps up immediately.

“What are you doing here?” I whisper yell.

“Trying to pass physics. Can we share?” Rex points at my book. “I didn’t have time to run and get mine.

I lay the inch thick text down and push it between us. “Since when do you take physics first period. With me?”

He shrugs, the corner of his lips tugging to the ceiling. “Since January fifth, when I transferred on a Wednesday.”

And I was in therapy. “But how have I not noticed all this time? You’re kind of hard to miss.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” Rex turns the assigned page, looking up at the board and nodding like he’s actually paying attention when the Mr. Greene walks in front of us. As soon as his back is to us, Rex says, “You usually come in just before the bell. Sit right here.” He points at the table. “And keep your head low. I used to hang out in the back and stare at you.”

“Weirdo.”

“Am I interrupting something?” Mr. Greene asks from behind us.

The room fills with whispers and giggles. I duck my head, creating a curtain with my hair. “Just discussing nonlinear dynamics, Sir,” Rex replies with a smile as wide as Texas.

“That’s not what we are reviewing,” Mr. Greene says with an I’m-growing-tired-of-you tone.

“You didn’t ask what you were discussing, Sir. You asked if you were interrupting what we were discussing.”

“Spill,” Melody says. She sets her tray, the same color blue as the sweater draped over her shoulders, on the table in front of her.

In front of me.

Melody flicks her wrist, tossing bleached hair over her shoulder. Like clockwork, Sarah and Rachel are only seconds behind and sit down too. My table of one is once again a table of four, and I can’t for the life of me figure out why they haven’t moved on yet.

“If you’re going to sit with us,” Melody starts, sliding the straw into her Coke. “We need to know how you bagged Rex Montgomery.”

“Pretty sure you sat down at my table.”

Melody rolls her eyes. “Potato. Tomato. I’m risking my prom queen nomination by sitting with you as often as I do. The least you could do is tell me how you did it. Was it back door? He looks like a back door kind of guy.”

“And you look like the type of girl to give it, Melody,” Rex says, walking up to us.

Sarah chokes on her orange soda, earning her dirty looks from both Rachel and Melody. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand mumbling “s

orry.”