Our Broken Pieces Page 7

  Mrs. Cramier steps into the room and I slip the folded piece of paper into my backpack. Usually she spends the days we don’t have meetings scheduled in her office, trusting us to be working on what we are assigned. Once in a while she pops over to make sure we are focused, or to tell us something. She glances around the room and when she makes eye contact with me, she smiles and heads in my direction.

  “Everly, I wanted to talk to you for a minute.” She pulls up a chair to the opposite side of the table. “You too, Angie.” Angie and I glance at each other quickly and I wonder if her heart is beating as quickly as mine. I’m so grateful the evidence of the senior prank planning is safely tucked away in my bag.

  “Sure,” I say as casually as possible.

  “I spoke with Coach Carter about the powderpuff game. He assured me he would find two responsible boys to help coach the girls.” She smiles at us and I feel my stomach twist and then shove itself up beneath my ribs. My hands get sweaty and I start to get that out-of-body feeling. Please don’t say Brady.

  “That’s great,” Angie says. Her eyes meet mine and I can see the concern in them. I try to smile, but I’m sure I fail. “Did he say who it would be?” She gives me a tight smile before turning her attention back to Mrs. Cramier.

  “He did.” I’m waiting on her next words like a defendant waits for the judge to hand down their sentence. I’ll be fine no matter who she names, but if it’s Brady there’s a huge chance my experience won’t be as fun as I was hoping it could be. She sits back in her chair and I get the feeling she might have heard about what’s been happening between Brady, Elle, and me. Everyone is talking about it after all, and Mrs. Cramier is a student favorite when it comes to cool teachers.

  “I suggested that maybe this year he could choose boys who aren’t always in the spotlight. It might be fun for them to get a chance to show students what they can do.” Her words sink in through the fog of my anxiety and I let out the air that had been trapped in my lungs. She leans forward slightly, making the conversation between the three of us feel private and significant. “I think it’s important that the student coaches have great ethics, don’t you?”

  There is no doubt now that she knows about everything. She reaches out and squeezes my wrist before standing up. “Thank you,” I manage to say as I look up at her. Her support slightly eases the hurt in my heart.

  She nods her head. “You have too much going for you to get bogged down by anyone who doesn’t treat you with the same respect you treat them. Enjoy your game, Everly. I’m sure Ethan and Hector will be wonderful coaches.” She turns and heads back into her office, leaving Angie and me speechless. After a full minute of trying to convince myself that the whole conversation really happened, I turn to Angie and see her smiling. She opens her arms and gives me a big hug.

  “I told you it would work out!” she says, and for the first time I’m convinced it really will. We spend the rest of class discussing the game and working out a practice schedule with the secretary of sports. We managed to have a tentative plan figured out by the time the final bell rings, and I leave class to head to counseling happy, hopeful, and excited, knowing the day is only going to get better when I see Gabe before my appointment.

  This time Gabe beats me to the waiting room. When I swing open the heavy glass door, I find him sitting on our usual couch, two large white takeout cups in his hands. I smile when our eyes meet and he hands me a warm cup as I sit down next to him. “I wasn’t sure if you liked coffee so I got hot chocolate instead.”

  “Thanks.” The warm drink feels good and calms my stomach. I haven’t really eaten all day and it isn’t until this moment that I realize just how hard it’s been to relax and enjoy something. I hand him his hoodie and the book he lent me. He sets them on top of the notebook in his lap. “I’m almost sad to give that book back to you,” I say.

  His lips curl into a smile and he taps the cover. “It’s one of my favorites. My sister convinced me to read it about a year ago, and as soon as I finished it I had to read his other novels.”

  “Does she go to our school?”

  “She did. Maggie graduated two years ago.” He keeps his eyes on his lap and runs a hand over his short hair.

  “I don’t know many people from that graduating class. Her name doesn’t sound familiar, but I also don’t know your last name.” I’m almost embarrassed to admit it, but the words tumble out of my mouth.

  “Darcy.” His eyes meet mine and it seems like he is waiting for some sort of recognition, but it doesn’t help me remember her. I shrug my shoulders and take another sip of the hot chocolate. His chest deflates with the breath he was holding and he looks up to the ceiling for a second before crossing one leg over the other, resting his ankle on his thigh, and turning toward me. “She was on the cross-country team. Got a full ride to Berkeley.”

  “Wow, that’s really impressive. I like to run, too. I haven’t been doing much of it lately, but even when I was jogging regularly I can’t imagine being fast enough for a scholarship!” I turn to face him and the conversation suddenly feels more intimate.

  “What about you? Do you have any siblings?”

  “Rosie. She’s a sophomore. Cheers for the JV squad.” He nods his head and takes a drink. The nosy lady from last week pushes open the glass door and takes her seat across from us. She gives me a small smile before pulling a magazine from her tote bag. I wonder if she will actually read it this time or if she’s planning on listening to the latest development in our budding friendship.

  Gabe looks over to the woman and then lowers his voice. “I meant to ask you this yesterday, how did the rest of your afternoon go after you left campus on Friday?”

  “Peachy.” My answer earns me a small chuckle. “Did everyone talk about it all afternoon?” I hate that my voice sounds desperate, but I know he’ll tell me the truth.

  “Until lunch, but then Aaron Sharpner bought his date a puppy and smuggled it onto campus with this enormous bow on its neck and that became the lead story.”

  “You can’t be serious. A puppy?” I shake my head in disbelief, both that Aaron would do that and that somehow I hadn’t heard about it—probably because Jonathan Little managed to round up the drama club and organize a flash mob in the parking lot after school on Monday to ask his date. Apparently that made the puppy promposal old news.

  “A puppy with a red bow. I gave him a few points for picking a traditionally romantic color.” This time I laugh and the woman across from us tips her magazine down and leans forward as if it will help her hear us better. I give her my best are-you-kidding-me glare before turning back to Gabe.

  “I feel bad for your gender,” I tease.

  “Why’s that? If you tell me it’s because we have no idea how to be romantic, I’d like to point out that Jack Messer brought a small folding table and pulled off a candlelit lunch for Tanya Bisbee before the lunch ladies got on his case about having fire at school.” He lifts his brows, daring me to argue about the romanticism. I giggle and shake my head.

  “I believe boys know how to be romantic. I just think it’s unfair that the pressure is always on you guys to do the asking. I heard nineteen ninety-eight was the first year they let a same-sex couple go to prom together. It’s been decades. You’d think we could progress in our gender expectations and see more girls asking boys.” I’d never be brave enough, but I know a few girls who would be.

  “It certainly would make things more interesting.” He turns his body even more in my direction. One of his strong arms rests on the back of the couch. Gabe is confident, and I admire that. “So,” he says with a smirk, “how would you do it?”

  My heart speeds up a little with excitement. I squint my eyes and let out a big sigh, pretending to think hard about what I might do. I’ve never thought about it. “See what I’m talking about?” I fan my face playfully. “There’s so much pressure.” He chuckles and rests his head against his hand.

  “I’ve got a few minutes. You can’t do any worse tha
n bad eighties remix.”

  “I guess it would depend on who I was asking. I think the best ones are the invites that aren’t as impressive to us on the outside, but mean something to the inviter and invitee.”

  He nods his head. “True. I hate being embarrassed in front of large groups of people. I don’t know if I’d ever have the guts to put myself out there with some cheesy gimmick to try to convince a girl to go to a dance with me. But I have to admit, the ones that are from the heart and clearly mean something to the couple get to me. I find myself rooting for the guy instead of shaking my head and wondering what website he stole the script from.”

  Add charming and funny to the list of things I’m finding I like about Gabe.

  “I feel the same way. I’ve been avoiding the videos people are putting up on social media, but every once in a while if one looks like it’s creative and not just some cookie-cutter idea stolen from the internet, I can’t help but click and watch it.” I guess deep inside my heart there were still a few cells that lit up for romantic gestures. Maybe one day someone would help me nurture that part of myself, but for now it was enough to know it was there.

  “You can’t be that good at predicting video gold.” Gabe narrows his eyes at me with suspicion. “You must have seen something terrible by accident at least once.”

  “It really is unfortunate that you can’t unsee what you’ve seen on the internet.” I shake my head to try and dissuade him from asking me to elaborate.

  “Well,” he says with a large exhale of air, “now you have to tell me all about it.”

  “Fine. But don’t say I didn’t try to warn you. The video was titled ‘Tattooed on My Heart.’” I bring my hands together to form a heart with my fingers. His smile is so warm it’s as if I can feel it in my chest as he watches me. “I fell for the title. It wasn’t a kid from our school; it was some school back east I think. The guy was wearing a sweater and it was all going so well until all of a sudden it wasn’t.”

  “Why is your face all scrunched up like that?” He chuckles quietly at my grossed-out face. I wish I could erase the image from my mind, but sadly I’m certain it will be there forever.

  “He said all these beautiful things to her.” I continue with the story, remember how I’d watched the girl’s smile grow with each compliment he gave her.

  “Sounds like he was doing all right so far.”

  “Then he took off his sweater and had the word ‘prom’ shaved into his overgrown chest hair.” I try not to laugh again as I tap my heart and raise my brows. “Over his heart.”

  “You’re making that up.” His face is serious and I bite my lip so I don’t laugh too loudly.

  “I’m not.” I pull out my phone and search for the video online. It only takes a minute to bring it up and play it for Gabe.

  “I’m going to have to spend this whole session working on how to get that image out of my head,” he says when the video is over.

  “That was the highlight of my day,” I reply with a grin. “Laughter is clearly the best therapy.” He runs his hand over his head again and smiles at me. I think about asking him if we could hang out some time without the old busybody, but the words don’t find their way out of my mouth before his therapist opens his office door and calls to him.

  “Good luck in there,” I tease.

  “I’m starting to repress it already.” He’s on his feet and out of sight, and before regret for my missed opportunity can really sink in, Laura opens her door. I make my way to her office with the first few symptoms of disappointment beginning to weigh on me.

  “How are you, Everly? Anything new?” She sits down in the chair across from me, and I toss my empty cup into her trash before reaching for my favorite pillow and pulling it onto my lap, kicking off my flip-flops, and tucking my feet underneath me.

  “I was pretty much pushed from my staircase of fear.”

  Her lip twitches like she wants to laugh but instead she holds it together. “What do you mean?” She twirls her pen between her fingers.

  “You told me to think of my biggest fear and I chose Brady asking Elle to prom as the top step. I thought we would have time to baby-step our way up, and you could give me some coping tools to use along the way. Of course, that’s not how it worked out. I walked out of my third period class on Friday and right into my worst nightmare.” I pick at the seam on the edge of the overstuffed pillow. She waits for me to continue.

  “It was tacky and cheesy and completely over the top, but I wasn’t ready for it. I lost it. I ran for the girls’ bathroom again, but someone stopped me instead.”

  “A friend of yours?”

  I shake my head but then nod. “I don’t know. I think so.” I tip my head in the direction of the office next door. “It was the guy, Gabe, from the waiting room. He pulled me into the boys’ room so the girls wouldn’t see me cry. Then he helped to sneak me out the visitors’ gate so I wouldn’t have to go back to class.”

  Laura offers an empathetic smile. “What did it feel like to have someone care about your feelings?”

  “I think it helped. My mom and sister have been trying to comfort me, but sometimes that makes me feel worse. They worry so much about me and I feel like I need to reassure them I’m going to be okay. I can’t just let it out.”

  “With Gabe you can?”

  “I guess. He helped me and then he made me laugh.” I feel my cheeks burn a little with embarrassment.

  “Sounds like he’s a good person to be around.”

  “Does it?”

  “You do a lot for other people.” She flips open my chart and lifts up a few pieces of paper. “You volunteer, you’ve mentored for the middle school girls, and just a few months ago you received that award for completing sixty hours of peer mediation. You’re a strong, amazing young woman. It’s wonderful that someone wanted to do something nice for you.”

  I can’t help but blush a little at her compliment. I don’t do those things for the recognition, I do them because it makes me feel like I can make a difference, even if that difference might be small.

  “So what is your big fear now? You thought the invite would kill you, but you survived. It hurt and you cried, but then you kept breathing.” She slowly closes my file and shuffles her notebook up to the top of the stack resting in her lap.

  “I kept breathing but I ditched school. It’s not the best option, and if it keeps happening my parents are going to get pissed.” I toss the pillow aside and stretch my feet out on her ottoman.

  “No, not the best option, but an option nonetheless. Think of this as somewhat of a crisis mode you’re in. You knew your limits and you left. Next time maybe you’ll be able to stay.” She writes a quick note and then returns her gaze to me.

  “My new fear is that I’ll never have my life back. I want to feel normal again. I want to smile just because, and not worry that my next big heartache is waiting around every corner. I want to look forward to things again and eat without it feeling like a chore. Does it ever get better?”

  “That’s a trick question. Yes and no. One day you will smile again, you’ll stop looking over your shoulder waiting for something bad to happen, and you’ll look forward to eating again, but you will never be the same as before. You won’t want to be. You have learned so many lessons from your time with Brady and this breakup. You’ve learned how to love and be loved, how to commit to someone, and how to survive when that person betrays you. Those are things you will never want to unlearn. They have become a part of you. One day you will feel better and be better, but you will also be different.”

  I nod my head and feel my lips curve into a smile. That sounds perfect. I just hope she can get me there soon.

  “Give me a fear we can overcome, a place where you want to be.”

  “I want to go to prom and have a good time.” The words slip quickly from my mouth.

  “That’s great! Let’s build your staircase and see if we can make some progress.” She hands me a blank sheet of paper on a clipb
oard and has me quickly draw a staircase.

  “Okay, put your biggest fear on the top step.” I follow her instructions and write Experience senior prom without Brady in big, bold letters. “Now we just need to work our way up to that. What sounds slightly less scary than the completion of your senior prom without him? Like it would be the step just below.”

  “Slow dancing with someone. It’s been so long since I danced that close with anyone other than Brady.” I look to Laura for her approval. She gives me a knowing smile and points to the paper. I write Slow dance with new guy on the step below.

  “Now what’s just below that?”

  This time I don’t even have to think much about it. “Pictures. They seem so permanent.” I don’t wait for her this time, just quickly fill in Prom pics without Brady. On the step below I write Awkward family photos. I write Invite on the bottom step.

  “Let’s set a time frame for this step. Without a deadline it’s a dream, not a goal.”

  “If I don’t get asked by the Monday before prom, I will ask someone.” Just the thought tightens my stomach and makes me feel a rush of adrenaline.

  “I’m going to hold you to that.” I know she will remind me, but actually making this goal happen is completely on me. I keep my Tuesday slot for next week when we schedule my appointment, and Laura lightly pats my back as I leave, telling me that she’s proud of the work I’ve done so far.

  As I go back into the waiting room I see that Gabe is walking out of his therapist’s office. I don’t look back at Laura, but I can feel her watching as he opens the glass door and waits for me to go through.

  fourteen

  THE PARKING LOT is thinning out as we walk down the front steps of the building together. When we reach the last step, I look up at him and smile, curious about what to do next. Is he walking me to my car or are we going to separate here? As the thought floats around in my head, a nervous butterfly feeling begins to swoosh around in my gut.