A Shattered Moment (Fractured Lives 1)

Without a word, I whirled around and stalked away. All the joy and excitement I felt just moments ago had dimmed. I walked blindly, searching for a buffer that used to be Zach. Obviously, he was no longer mine.

I pasted a smile on my face when I found Kat, Dan, and Jessica, who were animated with enthusiasm as they adjusted their caps and gowns.

“Ladies and gentlemen. Please take your places. We are about to begin.” Mrs. Flores’s voice crackled across a loudspeaker. Jessica, Kat, and I hugged each other before they scurried off to their places in line. I felt someone behind me move into place. I didn’t need to turn around to know it was Tracey. Her signature body spray wafting toward me gave her away. Neither of us spoke. I could feel her breathing on the back of my neck. It was heavy and hinted at impending tears. Over the years, we had cried together many times, so I knew when she was about to break down. Tracey hated for anyone to see her cry, and right now she was gulping hard to fight back the tears. Most times it worked, but on the rare occasion when she felt overwhelmed, she would spew like a fountain. When that happened, no amount of tissues stood a chance.

I knew she was seconds away from the impending flood. The bitch side of me wanted it to happen to vindicate the fissure of betrayal of my now suffering heart. If we would have been anywhere but in this line, I would have remained stoic and let her suffer, but this was our graduation—our shared moment. Everything we’d planned since we walked through the doors as freshmen would crumble away: our matching outfits, our secret plan to stand together to have our picture taken after we received our diplomas. There would be no single shots. We wanted to graduate the same way we had done every other event in our lives—together. We declared ourselves best friends from the day we met and discovered we shared the same last name. We were convinced we were sisters separated at birth. From that day forward, we’d always been together. All our other friends envied us, and we bragged about it whenever the occasion arose.

Tracey’s breathing behind me was now coming out in gasps. If I was going to fix this, I needed to do it now.

Forcing a painful smile on my face, I whirled around. Just as I expected, her eyes were swimming with tears. The situation felt surreal. Shouldn’t it be me crying? I was the one who just found out the two people I trusted the most had betrayed me. What did it say about me that I wasn’t the one whose eyes were filled with tears?

“It’s fine,” I told her, swallowing hard. A single tear escaped from the corner of her eye. She opened her mouth to answer, but it came out garbled. “It’s fine,” I repeated with more conviction. I wasn’t sure which of us I was trying to convince.

• • •

I climbed out of Bentley’s car, throwing him a good-bye as I shut the door. He thanked me again, flashing another one of his dimpled smiles. Even though I didn’t turn around to look once I walked away, I could hear his car idling at the curb as I entered the front door of my building. He was just doing the friend thing, like I emphasized I wanted, by making sure I got in safely. How could I expect anything else? I seemed to be the one dictating things between us. He was only respecting my wishes.

The weekend dragged by. Even if I wanted to talk to Bentley, he was at work. Keeping up with my classes and homework was a nonissue since I had an abundance of time to study. As the hours slowly trickled on, I was almost sorry I didn’t go home for the weekend. At least there I could have had something to occupy my mind.

By Sunday evening I was going stir-crazy. I was on the verge of doing something drastic like actually leave my dorm room when Trina showed up. I’m pretty sure my reaction to her arrival made her think I needed a padded room.

My greeting could only be described as a squeal gone wrong.

“Are you okay?” she asked, eyeing my cheesy smile with skepticism. She kept her hand on the doorknob like she wasn’t sure if she should flee while she had a chance.

“Yeah. The weekend’s been a bit of a drag.” I felt as stupid as I sounded.

“Right,” she answered, still looking at me cautiously.

“Look, I know I’ve been a total asshole.” My voice stalled slightly, but I plunged on. “I wasn’t expecting dorm living to be . . .” I paused as I searched for the right words. I knew everyone thought I was a complete dud. How did I explain that it was more of a sensory overload issue?

Trina waited with one eyebrow raised for me to continue. I could tell she was curious to see where this was going.

“So much,” I finished lamely, wishing she would at least sit down. It felt oddly intimidating to be sitting down while she remained standing. “I guess I knew there would be parties and hanging out. I just didn’t know it would be like twenty-four/seven, and always in here. I didn’t mean to be such a bitch. After the accident and a month in the hospital, I learned to value my alone time. Everyone was always coddling me. I think I went overboard.”

She moved to her bed, looking uncomfortable with my sudden openness. This was the first time I’d mentioned my leg or the accident since we moved in together. She perched on the edge of her bed. “It’s mellowed out a lot,” she said, smoothing out the wrinkles from her comforter.

“I know. I’m trying to get better.”

She nodded, but didn’t look up as she continued to slide her hand over her comforter. My confession had embarrassed her. I should have stopped talking so she could make her retreat without things getting even more awkward, if that was even possible.

“So, you were in the hospital?” she asked quietly. “Is that why you have the—you know?” She finally looked up toward my cane.

I briefly regretted mentioning it. I knew it was bound to open a can of worms. I found myself answering her anyway. “Yeah. I was in a car accident.” My throat dried out halfway through the sentence, but I got the words out. It felt strange to have a conversation with someone who knew nothing about what had happened.

“Car accidents freak me out. My cousin died in an accident when I was twelve. He was a total dipshit. He was street racing with some friends and flipped his car. I remember seeing the pictures. It was crushed to smithereens.”

“Accidents have a way of doing that,” I answered, feeling like someone was pressing on my chest.

“Did your vehicle flip, too?”

“Yeah, it did.”

My therapist would call this another milestone. She felt the more I talked about what happened, the easier it would eventually become. I’d come to the conclusion that she must be dipping into the meds she prescribed. It would never get easier.

eleven

Bentley