Fractured ( Fractured #1) (3 page)

Chapter Four

I walked toward the
Hanleys’ house. As I got closer to the stranger, my pulse quickened. The hot deli-god had just gotten out of a beautiful black BMW. Behind him, in the not too far distance, I saw the edge of the parking lot for the supermarket. He had a set of car keys in one hand and his employee badge in the other. He looked up and seemed surprised to see me.

“Hello
, again.” His voice was musical. It filled my head and I could hear nothing else.

“H-hi.” I
couldn’t take my eyes off him.

“Potato salad
, right?” His dimple appeared when he smiled.

“Um.”
Nice going idiot. Couldn’t I say anything better?

“Where’re you going?” he asked, eyeing the art supplies in my arms.

“To a neighbor’s house. They have a creek behind their house. I go there to draw.”
Tell me I didn’t sound like a complete idiot.

“Are you any good?” His smile
widened.

I
mmediately, I felt self-conscious. My cheeks burned. I shrugged and looked down at the pavement.

“
I mean, can you draw people?”

I looked up to see his wonderful smile.
A rush of heat raced through me, and my insides felt like wet noodles.

“Maybe you could draw me one day.” He waited, but I just stared. He raised his eyebrows and nodded once toward me.

“Um, okay.” Why do I have to be such a dork?

“Well, I have to go to work. Maybe I’ll see you around during the summer.” As soon as he said it, I wanted to follow him wherever he was going: to work, home,
to my dream cliff, even off the cliff. It didn’t matter. I just wanted to be with him. His perfect smile appeared again, complete with the dimple.

I managed to get out one word
: “Okay.” It sounded overeager and stupid. With a wave, he left his car parked on the street and walked toward the supermarket. Unable to feel my limbs, I stood there for what felt like years. It was as if he had stolen a small piece of my heart and taken it with him. I wanted to go with him to see what he’d do with it.

When he was
half a block away from me, I remembered that I had to breathe. Inhaling the warm summer air, I mentally berated myself for being a total moron. I promised myself that the next time I ran into him, if I ran into him, I’d do better. I waited until I couldn’t see him anymore, and then I resumed my walk to the creek. Again, my thoughts were consumed with the hot deli-god.
Idiot, you don’t even know his name.

Finding my usual place on the rocks near the creek, I sat down and took out my favorite drawing pencil
, but instead of sketching what was in front of me, I drew what was in my mind. His eyes were more beautiful in person, but I wasn’t off by much.

Several hours later, I walked home and thought about what we needed at the supermarket.

Chapter
Five

Opening the door,
I saw my mom slumped on the couch. Her chocolate-brown hair was fanned out over the back, and the television blared some TV chef extolling the virtues of poached salmon. The glass on the coffee table was empty, but how many times over, I didn’t know. A box of
Cheez
was tipped over onto the floor.

Just once
, I wished she wouldn’t be blathered when I came home. I understood why she had pain, but even so, I wished…

My sketchpad barely landed on the recliner
where I flung it. The box of the charcoal opened and scattered onto the carpet. I bent down to pick up the black stalks, and tossed them all back into the box. Then I tried to recover as many of the little orange crackers with one hand as possible. Her head rolled around in slow motion. In a groggy voice she said, “Hi, Sweetie. Have a nice day?” At least, she wasn’t a mean-drunk today.

“Yes, Mom. It was nice.” I raced to the kitchen garbage can and threw out the handful of crackers.
Then I went back into the living room. “C’mon, Mom. Let’s get you upstairs before Dillon comes home.”

“Dillon?” she asked,
barely keeping her head up. It flopped back to the cushion. I sat on the couch next to her and tossed one of her arms around my shoulders. With my arm around her waist, I took a deep breath to prepare myself for her weight before hoisting her up. I used to just leave her on the couch, but it was embarrassing, especially when Bryan’s friend, Jimmy, came over. Jimmy never said a word about it. He had witnessed my mother’s evolution, too, since he had practically lived in our house since we were all six.

Getting her up the stairs was easier now that I had a system for shifting her weight to help with the climb. I gently helped her onto the bed and lifted her feet. She was only wearing one slipper. I’d have to search for its mate later.

“I’m thirsty,” she said in a barely coherent slur. I gave her the bottle of water I kept next to her bed. She took one sip, scrunched up her nose, and handed it back. “Yuck! I’m thirsty, Mandy. Get me a drink.”

“Later, Mom. First, a nap.”

“I want a drink!” Her tone changed. It was forceful and sharp. I reached over and moved the clock and picture frame containing the first picture of Bryan, Cassandra, and me when we were one hour old. I pushed back a second picture frame with Dillon’s baby picture inside it. I didn’t want Mom to throw it; she can get quite nasty if she you don’t comply with her request for a beverage. I’ve replaced the picture frames too many times to count.

After gently helping her recline, her face relaxed
, and she put her head on the pillow. Her eyes were already closed. Good, no throwing today.

Down in the kitchen, I opened the refrigerator. The contents were promising. I found some chicken that Mom had taken out of the freezer during one of her more lucid moments, and rummaged through the cabinets to see what I could combine it with. Happily, I made a list of ingredients we didn’t have
, and knew I’d have to run to the store.

I tapped on the bedroom door. “Mom, I have to run to the supermarket for some thin
gs for dinner. Bryan is working at Burger Hut tonight, so you’ll be home alone. I’ll be back before Dillon’s bus comes. I’m taking twenty bucks from the house fund.”

I accepted her grunt as approval.

After I closed the front door and locked it, I felt a wave of happiness wash over me. Not only was it a nice day, but I was headed to the supermarket in hopes of seeing Mr. Dimple. I practiced all the things I’d say so I wouldn’t sound like a total loser again. “Are you new to the neighborhood? When did you move here? What street do you live on? How come I’ve never seen you before? Will you be going to Wood Oaks High School? What grade are you in?” Oh, and “What’s your name?”

Halfway there, my plan
was interrupted. “Mandy?” Without having to turn around, I knew who it was. Jennifer Sutton has a very distinct voice, filled with the purr of sex. I was pretty sure all the boys asked her questions just to hear her talk. Either that, or they wanted to stop and chat with her so they could ogle her body. She was a statuesque blonde, like her mother. Her perfect hair, nose, and teeth, as well as her other attributes, had been the topic of conversation of every boy in town since seventh grade. Since she had filled out where boys notice most, it was very hard to be a girl on the same planet, much less in the same town.

My mind flashed back to when we used to sit next to eac
h other in the first grade. We swapped lunches and giggled at the silly things the boys said to us. We were on our way to becoming best friends when her parents found out that my dad was ‘just a mechanic’ and not a day trader or a brain surgeon. She stood in the doorway with her arms crossed. “I can’t be friends with you. Your dad isn’t a professional.”

I
had no idea what she meant back then.

S
he was standing in the doorway of the nail salon. Through the window, I could see her equally beautiful mother pointing a finger at the woman doing her nails. She kept her hair shoulder-length with upturned, bouncy curls on the bottom.

I stopped in place, took a deep breath, and pretended I liked talking to her.
Designer labels coordinated in several shades of blue and green covered her from head-to-toe. The colors made her blue eyes stand out even more than usual. Holding her hands out with her fingers expanded, she said, “I thought that was you passing by. How are you?”

Why was she so interested in me all of a sudden?
I don’t think she’d exchanged ten sentences with me since that time in the first grade, and even the ten was a generous count. “Fine, Jennifer. How are you?”

“Oh, I’m thrilled now that school is over. Aren’t you?” I nodded and gave her my best fake grin. “Mom and I are getting the works done for my big end-of
-the-school-year party tomorrow.” Everyone in our grade had been invited, including me, but I wasn’t much of a party-goer, so I responded that we had our own celebration to attend. “Do you have any plans for the summer?”

“I think I’m just going to catch up on my reading
, and maybe draw some landscapes.” It was true. I didn’t want to tell her that I’d be taking care of my severely autistic brother because my mother was too drunk to care about anyone but herself. Or that I’d be cleaning the house while Bryan was working, or hanging out with his buddy who was always trying to get into every girl’s pants. Or even that I had to cook and do laundry for my dad, who was busy being a ‘non-professional’ so he could keep my mother swimming in alcohol. She’d only think I was pathetic. Well, I was, wasn’t I?

“Oh. A few of t
he girls and I got jobs as lifeguards at the beach. You should come hang out some time. There are tons of cute guys there.” The ‘girls,’ as she put it, were Liz, Tanya, and Courtney; the Beauty Apocalypse I mentioned before. They were the most popular girls in Wood Oaks, and uber-snobby. In fact, they were snob-squared. None of them needed to work. Their parents were the mega-professionals – doctors, lawyers and stockbrokers – that kept our little town on the list of most affluent neighborhoods in America; not like my dad, who struggled to keep the roof over our heads by fixing their Mercedes-Benzes and Porches. The only reason Jennifer would get a job as a lifeguard was to show off her incredible body, and flirt with every boy she knew. And I couldn’t imagine why she’d want me there, unless it was to boost her ego, knowing that I wouldn’t even attract her rejects.

“Okay, maybe I’ll come down to the beach
a couple of times this summer,” I said, offering my fake smirk again. Then I turned to continue on my way.

Just a few steps past her, thinking our exchange was finished, she called out, “Oh, don’t forget to tell your brother to come to the beach, too.”

Oh, now I get it.
Bryan was the real reason she made it a point to talk to me. To tell me about her summer position so that he could go flirt with her.
Bryan was very good looking. He’d conditioned his body to be nothing short of Hercules, and his face could easily grace the cover of GQ magazine. He’s the triplet that got all of the physical talent – looks, nice body, athletic ability. Of course, he’s the high school quarterback. It wasn’t until that moment that I realized that I was nothing more than the errand girl, given information to pass along to my socially and physically gifted brother. Hmm… Yeah, right. What was I, his social secretary? I’d pass it on, if I felt like it
.
I waved a hand to acknowledge her request.

The whole Jennifer exchange dampened my mood, but it
lightened when I caught sight of the supermarket sign. A small bounce took over my steps as I walked through the automatic doors and into the fluorescent lights of the bakery section.

Gathering the items on my short list, I hurried up and down the aisles so that I could spend as much time as possible in the produce section, which was directly across from the deli counter.
I fondled and squeezed every tomato and cucumber, glancing up toward the deli counter periodically for any small glimpse of him. But he wasn’t there. Without wanting to be labeled a veggie molester, I picked what I needed for dinner, and trudged over to the checkout line. My shoulders drooped, my hope deflated.

“Next.” I shuffled
in the line and looked up to see Mr. Dimple scanning the items that the guy in front of me had. My hope re-inflated, as if someone had pumped me up with air. I didn’t realize I was staring until his amazing electric-blue eyes looked in my direction. His serious mouth morphed into a smile, revealing the adorable dimple. Seconds seemed like hours as he shoved each item into the bags and sent my predecessor on his way.

“So
, we meet again.” His voice was sweet, and his smile genuine. I looked down at the items in my hands. “Draw anything nice?”

“What?”

“When you went to your creek? Did you draw anything nice?”

“Oh, yeah.” I thought about how I drew him and felt my cheeks flush. Everything else poured out of my head.
What happened to the whole conversation I was going to have?

He pointed toward his chest with his thumb. “I’m Rob. Rob Cooper.
” He took the first of my items to scan.

“Amanda Stewart. Mandy,” I said, looking up. His eyes were intoxicating. They looked darker in the fluorescent light.

“Are you a senior at Wood Oaks?”

That was supposed to be my question.
“I will be next year.” What an idiot I am
.

“Me, too.” My quizzical stare must have encouraged him to continue. “
I have to repeat some classes. I had to move in with my aunt and uncle.” That shot down another one of my questions. “We had a house fire, so I’m living with them for a while.”

“Oh.”
Was that all I could say? My brain was not working. I fought to remember what I had practiced on the way to the supermarket.

“So, can I count on you for homework help?” Rob said. Although his face was down as he packed my bag, his eyes lifted up to look at me. Only half his grin was on his face, the half with t
he dimple. He was so cute. I froze.

I sm
iled back and almost yelled my response because I couldn’t hear my own voice over the drumming of my heart. “Do you…” I readjusted my voice. “Do you think you’ll need help?”

“Yes, definitely, if you’ll
tutor,” he said as he handed me my bag.

I felt every drop of my blood rush to my cheeks. I looked down at my hands.
“How do you know that you aren’t smarter than I am? I could be dumb.” The conversation I was offering could attest to that.

“You look smart,” he said.

A wave of heat enveloped me. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you that you can’t judge a book by its cover?”

The rest of his smile appeared
, and I saw a less noticeable dimple on his left side. “I’m a good judge; I can tell exactly what’s inside
any
cover.”

Could my cheeks get any hotter?
My heart was drumming double-time.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to embarrass you.” H
e focused his eyes back to my bag, and his dimply grin looked more suggestive. “Thank you for shopping with us,” he said.

I could tell from the heat escaping from my face that I was darker than a red chili pepper. I walked out of the store wondering if I should do a whole week’s worth of shopping
, just so that I could continue talking with him.