Beautifully Broken

I gasp. My eyes burn with unshed tears because that’s exactly what’s going to happen. Not today, and not tomorrow, but soon. “Why are you worrying about that?”

The warning bell rings. Everyone around us starts hurrying to their first class. My question goes unanswered. “Can I walk you?”

I shake my head. “No thanks. That’ll open a can of worms I’m not ready to talk about with Ms. Cherrybroom. Besides, you’ll be late.”

23

Piper

I make it by the skin of my teeth to my counseling session. I’ve never been late and don’t know how it would affect my graduation status. Personally, I think it’s crap that I have to meet with Cherrybroom as often as I do. It’s not like we talk about anything important, which sucks because I really want to tell someone about what’s going on sometimes.

“Cutting it close,” Ms. Cherrybroom says closing the door behind me. I settle into the chair to the left of her desk and set my bag down. “Although, if I was sporting a hunk like Rex I’d probably be late too. Granted my hunk would need to be ten years older.” She flicks her hand. “I don’t care how cute he is, no kid is worth jail time.”

This is weird. My guidance counselor just called my boyfriend cute. Granted she’s maybe twenty-five, but I still don’t like it. “Um. Yeah, sorry about that.”

“Anyway…” she settles in behind her desk, stacking papers that can't possibly be from today neatly to one side. She pulls out a handful of new papers from her bottom drawer. “These are for you.”

I lean forward and take her handouts. There are five different college applications, all with scholarship information stapled to each one. I flip through them, pretending to read each for a second or two then set the stack on my lap. “I was wondering…”

Ms. Cherrybroom clasps her hands under her chin. “Yes, dear?”

“Would it be possible to leave a week or two early and still graduate?”

She sucks in a breath. “Why on earth would you want to do that?”

“I was thinking of doing some traveling this summer, before starting school.”

“You mean you’re going?”

No. “Seems that way.”

Ms. Cherrybroom jumps up from her seat and rushes around the desk. Her long arms wrap around my shoulders as if we’re friends. It’s not weird at all. I’m kidding. It’s very very weird.

One Mississippi.

Ms. Cherrybroom must realize how inappropriate the situation is. She lets go before I can mentally count to two and sits in the chair beside me. “Well, it’s probably frowned upon but if you can finish your final exams, I’m sure I can work with your professors to sign off on it.” She clasps her hands together. “Oh, Piper. I’m so pleased.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

Ms. Cherrybroom stands and walks to her desk. She scribbles something on a pad. “Here.” She rips the page free. “I probably shouldn’t, but I’ve written you a pass for the day. There are only a few weeks left. Go, plan your trip, just promise to make a Facebook profile and add me so I can see what you’re up to.”

“Thanks, Ms. Cherrybroom. I will.”

As much as I appreciate the day off, I don’t skip. If I’m going to get in my professors good graces, I need to be present as much as possible. The morning passes in a blur of whispered rumors and too many questions of “what’s going on between you and Rex?” from people who haven’t talked to me since freshman year. I tell them nothing. My life isn’t their business. Besides, whatever I say will only fuel the rumor mill. Five minutes left in class, my phone buzzes. I slip my bag onto my lap and peek inside.

Rex: Have lunch with me today

“Miss. Lovelace, are you with us?” Mrs. Hale asks.

I nod and she continues her lecture. It buzzes again.

Rex: I’m buying and I hear it’s baked ziti today.

The bell rings and everyone scurries to leave. I close my books and wait for my classmates to exit before getting up, a habit I developed so I don’t hear the daily gossip. I close my notebook and neatly stack it on my textbook while I wait for the last person to leave then head to my locker.

The hallway is still alive with whispers. I smile at the sideways glances, letting everyone know that I see them. I hear them. And best of all, I’m not stupid. Reaching my locker, I spin the dial and open it, a folded paper falling at my feet. I set my books on the top shelf and bend down to pick it up. Inside are two words:

Found you.