Broken (The Outsiders Series) (3 page)

I borrow paper and pencil from one of the guys and get to taking my notes. The guys seem to be pretty focused on their work, until we do the examples. It doesn’t take long for me to figure out why. Ms. Davis moves too slow for us. And it’s because a few of the kids in the back don’t pay attention. And then Ryan gets bored. He begins to tell me stories of what they’ve done
so far this year, and it’s pretty entertaining. He threw a paper airplane that hit Ms. Davis in the back of the head. He spilled his chemicals on purpose during a lab – they were nontoxic, though. He fell asleep and fell out of his lab stool. And he even walked out once. Needless to say, Ms. Davis isn’t Ryan’s biggest fan.

And
by the time he finishes telling me the stories, the bell rings. It was enough to pass the time, and I didn’t get bored. I wonder what’s going to happen tomorrow. More worksheets that are too short for kids that pay attention?

I follow the guys
out into the hallway but stop. I told Candy I’d walk with her, and I can’t stand her up already. I’m not like Jack or the other jerks. “I’ll catch up with you guys in the lunch room,” I say as I stop and wait in the center of the hallway.

“You going to get you some?” whispers Todd as he flings his arm around my shoulders again.

“Nah,” I say. “But I’ll tell her you’re interested, man.” I shrug to get loose from his grip. He doesn’t get it, and he holds on to me. I swallow, suddenly uncomfortable, and look up at him.

Todd’s
blue eyes get big but he shakes his head. “Can’t do that, Carter. I’ve got me a lassie,” he starts. Then, he smiles to show his perfect, white teeth. I look up to see his blonde hair. He spikes it, but it’s too tall, kind of like overgrown grass or something. He seems okay though.

“And he actually likes this girl,” Ryan finishes. “Come on guys. Carter’s just being nice to the girl, now.” He winks and throws his arm
around Todd and the other guy, Eli. “See you in the lunch room,” he calls.

I laugh and turn around in time to see Candy walking up to me. She looks down toward the guys. “Wow, Carter,” she says. “You don’t seem to have a problem making friends.”

I look down at her and scratch the back of my head.

She giggles, making sure to cover her mouth and look up at me. She must think it’s cute, but it’s not. “Those guys are popular,” she says as she looks longingly at them.

I shrug. Who cares about being popular? I mean I don’t. The popular kids at my last school were stuck up rich kids that cared too much about what neighborhood you lived in. Needless to say, I wasn’t popular. But I had a few good friends, and we had some pretty good times together.

“I don’t think you understand this,” Candy says slowly. “We can’t be friends, Carter. It will ruin your image. Do you understand?”

I shrug again. “Not really. They knew I was staying to talk to you. They didn’t seem to care about it, Candy. So why should you care about them?” I cross my arms over my chest and look down at her slender body. There is no way in hell those things are real. “Candy,” I say when she doesn’t answer me.

She looks back up. This time she doesn’t press her chest together. “It’s not the guys that care, Carter. It never is. The girls care.”

“I’m not hanging out with the girls, Candy.”

She shrugs. “Suit yourself,” she says as she turns. She holds out her arm, wanting me to link mine with hers, but I shake my head. That’s just too weird.
But we still walk together, and when we step into the giant lunchroom I’m almost overwhelmed. There are tons of students sitting at tables or waiting in line. Right now, a large nine is blinking in green lights on a neon sign.

“Ninth graders eat first today,” Candy says with a sigh. “I guess
I’ll be next. I’m gonna go sneak in line,” she says with a wink. “Oh,” she adds as she turns back around, “your new friends sit over there in the two corner tables. Have fun!” She points to the back corner and waves before walking away. I turn to see the guys over there. Some are standing up; some are sitting down. A few girls sit on the tables in front of the guys. I count four girls. The popularity at this school isn’t nearly as bad as my old one.

“Carter,” Ryan calls when I get closer to the table. “This,” he says, “is the lovely Lane. He points to a girl with light brown hair and pink lipstick.
Her hair is wavy and it falls around her shoulders. She has on a short skirt that barely covers her body as she sits on the table. She waves to me and I wave back before turning to look at the next girl that Ryan introduces as Brooke. This girl, somehow, looks the same as Lane, and I almost ask if they’re twins when Ryan speaks up. “They love each other so much, that Brooke got a nose job so that she and Lane looked more like sisters.” He leans over so that he can whisper something to me. “But now they all say that Brooke is prettier, so we think she did it for that reason. You dig me, Carter?”

I look between the two girls. And yes, Brooke is hotter than Lane. They must have done something to her lips when they did her nose. Because her lips are unnaturally full.
She looks like a cross between Megan Fox and Angelina Jolie, mixed with a little Jennifer Aniston – the Jennifer Aniston part is the fact that she tries not to look like a dirty whore. She’s just a regular one.

“And this,” Ryan says as he pulls a blonde girl to his side, “is Katie. She’s my girl and Anne Marie’s little sister.
He kisses Katie before pulling away.

“Anne Marie and Colton are somewhere hooking up or something,”
Katie says to Ryan and me. “The girl’s bathroom probably. They got caught in the boy’s locker room last week.”

“Time for a change,” Ryan agrees.

“So,” Lane asks, “Where are you from, Carter? And when did you move here?” She leans forward, genuinely interested in me.

“Just outside of Atlanta. And I got here yesterday morning,” I answer. “My parents moved for work.”

Lane nods. “My dad works in Atlanta. We live here because my mama doesn’t want us to move too close to the city and all. She says it’s bad there.”

“Parts of it are bad, but there are
also nice parts and nice people,” I say to defend my home. But it’s not like I know any of them. I didn’t grow up in the nice part of town. But my mom used my grandma’s address. I got to go to the nicer schools because of that. I guess that’s one thing I can thank her for.

“Well, I bet you’ll like it a whole lot more up here,” Lane responds. “The girls are prettier, the drinks are stronger, and the lovin’s a whole lot better.” Katie and a new girl, who I assume is Anne Marie, cheer. Lane and Brooke join in, screaming and hollering so that it echoes around the lunchroom. A teacher walks over and tells them to stop.

“So, what did I miss?” Anne Marie asks as she looks me over. Instantly, I don’t like her. There’s something about the way she looks at me. It tells me that she thinks she’s better than me. Other than the slightly disgusted look on her face, she’s pretty. She’s got grey eyes and thick blonde hair that falls in curls that hit the tops of her shoulders. She’s wearing a black shirt that’s so low it shows the lace of her purple bra. She doesn’t seem to care though, because she smiles when she realizes I’ve noticed.

“Anne Marie,” Ryan says, “this is Carter. He’s new here and he’s a junior like us.” He walks over to Colton to congratulate his success, and I’m left having a staring contest with Anne Marie.

Finally, she speaks. “Welcome to the group,” she says with a shrug. Well, that was easier than expected. And when Colton reaches around to introduce himself, I figure that this was all of it. Nothing like my other school, with the hazing and embarrassing tests.

3

By the time I got through Creative Writing, I was exhausted. The teacher had us writing poetry, Haikus to be exact. I’ve always liked poetry, but he kept trying to force us to write about the trees outside the window. I never like when teachers try to force inspiration on you, but I think that the kids in this class were all forced into it. He kept comparing us to his other classes, saying that we lacked written expression and stuff. The guy was just a bastard, in my opinion, and there was no way anyone would work for someone like him. If we were in the real world, we would have quit that job by now.

I step out into the hallway after he tells us that we have to write a Haiku about something that haunts us. Most of the kids snickered and joked about monsters under their beds. They have no idea what a monster can be. And by the time I get to my last class, after attempting to find a bathroom, I’m right on time. And Mr. Preston makes sure that I know that. After handing me back my schedule, he puts me in a seat in the very back of the room, but I can’t blame him because it’s the only one left.

I look around the room. This class is set up in rows. It’s different from the groups in Creative Writing.
Something about the normalcy comforts me. But it could just be because I’m out of Creative Writing. Ryan was right about that class. He told me it sucked balls. I just didn’t think he was serious.

“Mr. Daniels,” Mr. Preston says
. By the tone of his voice, I can tell that he’s said my name more than once. Great, now I’ve already looked stupid in front of everyone.

I look up at him and apologize to the background of snickers and amused looks. I catch Anne Marie’s eye. She sits in the front corner. Her blonde hair is now in a high ponytail.
She winks at me before turning around.

“I was just saying that you came just in time for our self-discovery project. They already chose partners yesterday, but we had an absent student so you can partner with her. Does that suit your interests, Mr. Daniels?”

“That’s fine, sir. Thank you.” I look back down and stare at my fingers. I wonder if the girl is someone I already know but don’t have time to think about it because a piece of paper is pushed on my desk. The student in front of me nods when I catch his eyes. He smiles sadly at me before turning back around.

“Now class, let’s go over the basic parameters of this project. This is your semester project. You have the entire month to complete this,
so if you do not finish before winter break, kids, you will have to meet your partner over the holidays. Do you understand?” We all mumble assent, and he continues after running his hand through his long, blonde hair. He looks like someone from a surfing magazine. If he taught at my old school, he would have been harassed by all of the girls. But that doesn’t seem to be a problem here – at least, not in this class.

“The first part is your own introduction. We will be working on these today
only. You must answer the questions written on your paper. And no, Leanne, I do not just want you to write the number and your answers. I want you to tell me a story or offer me an expository. You have learned about these types of essays for two and a half years, guys. You can do this, okay? All you have to do is try to do it.”

Anne Marie raises her hand suddenly. “Mr. Preston, does it smell like onions in here to you?” she asks as she sniffs the air.

The kids around me all laugh and snort.

“Anne Marie, this is no time to worry about whether you should be chewing gum or not,” Mr. Preston fires back.

This time the entire class bursts out in simultaneous laughter. I mentally high-five the coolest teacher ever and join in. Anne Marie deserved that for trying to ruin the class’ concentration.

“Since I can tell you’re all off task now, I’ll let you work on your current autobiography. Make sure that
you answer all of the questions and please write in complete sentences. I do not want this typed, and you all know the consequences of bringing me a typed paper; if you want your mom and dad to do it, force them to sit at the table with you. It will let you all bond.”

The kid in front of me ducks his head, and I’m thinking it was him.
I wonder what his consequence was then. And, like he knew what I was thinking, he turns around. “Hey, I feel bad for you, man. You didn’t deserve it.”

I wrinkle my brow. “Didn’t deserve what?”

“Getting paired up with Vandelya. You won’t like her at all. Not if you hang around Anne Marie.” He shrugs and turns back around. I look at the back of his dark colored head. His hair curls at the ends and he wears it in front of his eyes so that I can’t see him that well. He doesn’t shave either, and his almost-beard is coming in unevenly. He seems a little off, though. And I don’t know what to make of it.

And instead of tapping his shoulder or making a noise to get his attention, I look down at the paper in front of me. I borrowed an extra notebook of Ryan’s when he told me that my Creative Writing teacher wouldn’t take the excuse.
The blank paper calls to me, drawing out ideas of my past. And I have a decision to make. Tell the truth about myself. Or lie. I sit there, drawing faces and lines on my paper for a while. It’s Mr. Preston that finally forces me to make my decision.

“You’re getting a lot of work done, Carter. Do you want to read it in front of the class later on?” he asks as he looks down at my drawings. Then, he lowers himself so that he’s on my level. “You have the power to write down anything you want to. Just tell us who you are, Carter. Then, they won’t keep guessing. They’ll know you, just like they all know each other.”

My first thought is: why do I want them to know me? And then, just like that, I know that I want to make it all up. If I’m forced to work with someone that I don’t know, I’m going to make it interesting for both of us.

I glance at the first question before starting with my name and date of birth. I work on creating a story with two loving and hardworking parents. One of them works in investment banking while the other claims to be a detective of sorts. I go into detail about my dad’s long hours. Then, I add the piece about how I think he’s a spy or something like that. Maybe even a CIA
agent. I add information about my childhood. I traveled to Europe when I was younger. That’s why I started school late. And this story is better than the one I told the woman when I registered. I’m keeping this one.

I kept writing about how t
he kids at my old high school wanted to vote me prom king, but I was dethroned because I wasn’t the prom queen’s boyfriend. My parents haven’t bought me a new car because, ever since my accident, they don’t trust me at all. And it just goes on and on. And part of me believes the lies, because I want them to be the truth. I want them to be real. Because it’s better than what I have right now.

When the bell rings
, I look up to see that kids are packing up to leave. I shove my fake life into my pocket and hand Ryan his notebook on the way out of the room. We walk outside together, and it doesn’t take me long to realize that he’s quieter than usual.

“Hey, man, what’s up?” I ask as
we step into the hallway. He turns to look at me. Then he looks away again. “Seriously, Ryan,” I add, “you can talk to me about it, man.” And as soon of the words fall out of my mouth, I mentally slap myself. Now I’m going to be forced to tell him things about myself.

“I don’t want
you to tell Anne Marie or someone, Carter. And who knows what you’ll do now that you’re one of us,” he admits.

I might as well play the friend card. Who knows what these people are really like here. And if I’m involved, I’m going to need at least one friend. Ryan’s my best option. He isn’t as touchy-feely as Todd.
“You’re the reason that I’m one of you,” I say. “I’m loyal to you first. So, what’s up? Why you so quiet?”

Ryan kicks the soft dirt as we step outside. He shoves his hands in his pockets and shrugs before taking a deep breath.
“Turns out that Todd’s lassie is Katie. I found out after lunch. I guess I should’ve known it. Todd kinda stopped being my friend, and Katie wouldn’t really do nothing with me anymore and stuff. Turns out she was getting some from my friend.”

Wow. This is like my old school. I can’t believe the amount of drama that surrounds the popular people, and I almost want to tell him this, but I keep it inside. This isn’t what Ryan wants to hear right
now. Ryan needs a good guy talk, and I need to be there for him. What can I say? I get raised by parents who don’t care, so it makes me care that much more. I don’t want to hurt people the way I’ve been hurt. And if he’s the guy I choose to be my friend, I’ve got to be myself – more or less – with him.

“Ryan,” I say after a few seconds, “why don’
t you walk home with me now? My parents got me an apartment nearby. And you can get someone to pick you up later. You shouldn’t ride the bus with them.”

Ryan’s eyes grow large. “Your parents got you an apartment?” he asks seriously. “What? They didn’t want your parties to ruin their house or something?” He laughs and claps my back. “Dude, you are awesome!”

I laugh with him, pretending that it is true, that I was lucky enough to have parents that were this lenient. Inside, though, I know that I’d take crazy, overprotective parents any day. It would be better than what I’ve got.

“So where’s your car?”
Ryan asks as we walk past the parking lot.

I scratch my head. “Got in a crash a while ago and they haven’t bought me a new one yet. Something about trust issues.”

“Yeah,” Ryan says as we stop at the crosswalk. “My dad won’t give me one till I’m eighteen.”

I nod, and we walk
without talking for a few minutes.

“Carter,” Ryan says
as we pass the gas station near my apartment, “I think you’ll be my new best friend.” He claps my back again and laughs. Maybe I was wrong about the touchy-feely stuff. Maybe they’re all like that here. I guess I’ve got to get used to it or something.

“
Man, I want a drink,” he adds a second later. “Bet your parents don’t want you drinking, though. No parent is that awesome. Besides, we don’t drink much in this town. We go to church and pray and all that worship stuff.”

“
Don’t get me thinking I’m in the middle of Footloose, man.”

Ryan laughs. “Hey, that girl was pretty hot – in the new one, I mean. I’d take her home, for sure.” After he finishes that statement, he gets quiet again. I let him think about it for a while.

“You know,” he says after a couple minutes. “I think the worst part is that Todd’s my friend and all. I didn’t think it was her.”

“He wasn’t your friend, Ryan. You know that he wasn’t. And you should be angry at both of them for keeping it from you. How did you find out, anyway?”

“Katie and I usually sneak off during fourth. She’s got PE and I’ve got Art. I got a text from her, telling me to meet her out by the lockers. I think she sent it to the wrong person, because they were both surprised to see me.” He shrugs.

“Ouch, man. What’d you do?” I ask.

“I just walked away, Carter. I couldn’t let them see me blow up, and I couldn’t let them see me cry.”

I nod and look over at Ryan.
He’s kind of like me, with dark hair and dark eyes. He wears his in a faux hawk, though. It doesn’t really match his collared shirt, but it works for him. He seems to have a lot in common with me, even though our problems aren’t really of the same magnitude. But it’s still the same principle. Betrayal by someone you care about. In his case, two. It might even be worse to have it that way. Hell, if Jack had been my real father, I would have been worse off.

“Not that I would cry over a thing like that,” Ryan adds a minute later. He rubs the back of his head and lets out a nervous laugh. Then, he glances sideways at me. “You know what I mean.”

I nod. “I won’t say anything, man. I’m not into betrayal. I know too much about its grasp.”

Ryan looks up as we turn the corner into my apartment complex. It isn’t the nicest place. I mean, I don’t have a lot of money left. But the guy at the desk told me that he knew of a few jobs. And he let me stay for free this month; he said it wasn’t fair to take a kid’s money.
Especially when neither of us knew when I would be getting more of it. It was a nice gesture, and it made me stay here. If this town was full of the people in Atlanta, I would’ve been kicked out for telling them that I didn’t have a job. So I’d take what I could get.

Ryan clears his throat
, interrupting my thoughts. “This place ain’t bad, Carter. And I’m sorry for getting all heavy on you. I swear I ain’t looking for a bromance or nothing. K? Friends?” Ryan asks as he holds out his hand. He smiles and winks at me jokingly.

I laugh and take his hand in mine
so we can shake on it. “Yeah, man. Friends.”

“Now let’s go up and see what you got up here, man. You got furniture
and junk in there already?” he asks as he jogs up the stairs.

“The place came furnished,” I say as we head up to my apartment.