Breakable (15 page)

“I
want to know what will happen if I don’t,” I demanded.

But
she just pressed her lips together and folded her arms. In that pose she looked
scarily like Mom when Mom was being stubborn.

With
a frustrated growl, I abandoned the probably ruined tank top and grabbed my
sweater off the floor where I’d dropped it. But when I put it on, it gaped open
at the front since it only had one button. I could walk through the house
holding it closed, but that seemed like a recipe for trouble.

Older
Me sighed. “Take a look in the drawers, maybe there’s a clip or something you
can use it hold it closed.”

I
started digging through the drawers that lined the countertop. “Even if I find
something, how am I going to get out of here? Dex won’t want to leave this
early.”

“No,
he won’t,” she said.

I
froze. “You remember this party? You were here?” I said, holding my breath to
see if she’d answer.

“Yes,”
she said simply.

“And?”
I couldn’t believe she’d tease me like that.

“And
you need to forget about Mark, and Dex, and Finn and just get out of there.
That place isn’t worth your time, Stacy. They’ll just gang up and hate on you
and… Mark can only be so many places at once. Just… just leave. Please?”

I
shrugged. Then pushed aside some old make-up tubes and discovered a small
safety-pin laying up against the side of the drawer. I used it to pin the front
of my sweater closed. It was very low cut, and everyone could see my stomach.
But I had more skin covered than half the girls downstairs.

“Stacy,
please! This is important!”

“Calm
down, I’m leaving. Soon.” What I would have given to be able to take her advice
right away. Just leave. Go home. Forget about everyone. Just get away.

But
it was pointless thinking that way. This was my chance to get my hands on that
letter. And if I could get that, then I could tell Mark the truth – find a way
to do it so he believed me. Maybe we could even work together to trap them so
he could see it for himself…

Bracing
for going back in the fray, I considered my sopping blouse, screwed up on the
countertop. I couldn’t stomach the idea of walking around, carrying it.
Instead, I wrung it out and dumped it in the laundry hamper against the wall. Maybe
Finn’s mom would discover it and realize he’d had a party. Maybe he’d get in
trouble. I could only hope.

I
turned for the door then, but my gaze snagged on Older Me. She stood awkwardly,
with her hands at her sides, biting her lower lip.

“Please,
just go straight home,” she said. “Forget about everything else for tonight and
just get home.”

Everything
else
?

The
letter. I blinked. Did she know?

Older
Me’s eyes never left my face. But she didn’t say anything. And I couldn’t. So I
just nodded turned for the door.

“Call
for me when you’re safe,” she said to my back.

Chapter Seventeen

There
was no one in the hall. Music and voices drifted up the stairs, but so far
everyone was too sober to have spread out. If I was lucky, I had a good
half-hour before anyone started looking for privacy.

And
Finn’s room was just three doors down.

With
one last glance down the stairs to make sure no one was on their way up, I
headed up the hall, counting doors. The third door was closed. But when I tried
the knob, it turned. The door opened.

Finn
had obviously figured he’d be bringing someone up here. Apart from his school
bag on the chair at his desk, the room was spotless. His massive bed had been
made with crisp corners. He’d closed the curtains, but left a lamp on next to
the bed. The lamp lit the entire room with a soft, warm glow. The intentions
behind that made me shudder.

I
closed the door carefully, noiselessly, then darted across the room to his
desk.

I
tried his bag first, just in case he’d been carrying my letter around. But the
leather satchel held only a few pens, his tablet, and a couple books. No loose
papers at all. So I started in on the drawers of his desk.

Doing
my best to leave everything as it was, I rifled through the long drawer at the
top in the middle. It was full of trash, pens, broken pencils, and a few
scribbled notes. The other top drawers didn’t offer anything of more interest.

But
the second drawer down on the right…

As
soon as I opened it, I knew that was my best shot. It was full of cards, notes,
letters, pictures. Obviously the spot he threw everything girls gave him. And
judging by the piles in here, there had been a lot of girls in his life.

With
shaking hands, I pulled out stacks of cards and notes, flipped through them, looking
for any pieces of loose, lined paper.

But
it wasn’t until I’d removed most of the contents of the drawer, that I
discovered the little box in the back.

It
was nothing important looking – an old, oversized match box, for the long kind
of matches that you used for barbeques. It slid out from its cover easily and
my heart thumped almost painfully.

Right
on the top, over a pile of notes, was my letter. It had been folded and creased
since I last saw it. But there was no mistaking the name
Mark
written in
my hand.

I
grabbed it out with a little cry and was about to shove the box back into its
cover and get out of there, when the note that had lain beneath it caught my
eye.

It
was a blue post-it. In pink pen in a loopy hand with a heart to dot the i, was written:

next
saturday at 4 at our spot. M has practice.

don’t
be late.

Xoxo

It
had to be from Karyn. “M” had to be Mark. He had basketball practice on
Saturdays after the art room. She had written this to make a date with Finn.

Proof.

With
my heart beating a rapid tattoo, I grabbed the post-it and slid the box back
into its cover and replaced it in the back of the drawer. Unwilling to let go
of my letter, I scrambled to pick up the piles of envelopes and notes and
pictures, returning them to the drawer, praying I’d gotten the order right.

I
was just reaching for the last little pile when I heard the click behind me and
whirled.

Finn
stood inside the door, his upper lip pinched into a sneer. “I knew it!” he
muttered, slamming the door behind him.

My
hands shook as I placed the last pile back in the drawer and pushed it closed.
The letter and note were crunched up in my fist.

“Just
taking back what belongs to me,” I said and stood.

Finn
covered the space between us in three long strides, grabbing for the letter. I
held it behind me and shoved him off with my free hand. “Back off, Finn!”

“You
little thief!

“
I’m
the thief? You stole it from me!”

He
cursed. “You’re in my room, going through my stuff!” He grabbed me by both arms
and threw me sideways. I landed heavily against the edge of the bed. I was
still searching for my balance, trying to find my feet, when he was beside me.
Both his long arms circled me, trying to get the letter. I struggled, but he
just clamped his arms around mine until we were locked in this strange
position, him on top of me and grasping at my hands, me with my upper body on
the bed, my legs tangled and unable to get purchase on the floor.

“Finn!
Let me go!”

Finn
grunted and his hand closed on mine. I twisted onto my side, pulling the hand
with the letter under me, even as he wrestled for it. I was trying to turn onto
my stomach, but he was too strong. His steel arms made a prison for me.

“You’re
so predictable, C,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Let
me go!”

“Not
until you give me that letter.” He pressed his hips into me, pinning me even
harder, so the seam on the edge of the mattress pinched into my side.

“Finn,
please
.” He was starting to scare me. I couldn’t move more than a
wiggle. Then one of his hands closed over mine. Over the letter.

“No!”
I cried and twisted so hard I saw stars.

Finn
grunted, but I ended up on my stomach, the hand with the letter pinned under
me. I tried to push off the mattress, to push him away. But with him holding me
down, I could only get my chest up.

Our
struggle became a gross parody, him behind me, pressed into my backside, me
bucking beneath him, struggling to get free.

“It’s
never going to happen, C,” he hissed in my ear, shifting his weight just
slightly, to free one of his hands. “I’m stronger than you. And faster. Not to
mention prettier,” he snorted.

“Let
me go!”

“Though,
I don’t have
those,
” he said silkily.

For
a moment I was lost. Then I realized that my sweater was gaping. The pin
stretched almost to breaking point by our struggles. The fabric within it had
pulled until it did little more than stop my sweater falling off. The middle of
my bra was clearly visible, and the tops my breasts rose out of the fabric.

Finn’s
finger traced a line from my collarbone, down my sternum, dipping into the
middle of my bra.

“Get
your hands off me, you pervert!” I screamed and bucked again, suddenly so aware
of his greater strength, his hateful smile, how he would do
anything
to
win. Or to torture me.

“You
know, your rack’s almost as big as Karyn’s. Too bad for you, Mark’s already got
free access to her.”

“From
where I’m sitting, she isn’t exactly picky.” I glared at him, but instead of
looking ashamed, he just tipped an eyebrow up.

“You
know, I liked you when we were twelve. You could have been normal. Like, with
friends. What happened to you?”

“Shut
up, Finn. If being normal means cheating on my best friend, I’ll stick with
what I’ve got.”

Finn
scowled and leaned into my face. “Cheating, lying, what’s the difference?
Didn’t seem to bother you in eighth grade.” His breath was hot on my cheek,
washing me in the tang of half-digested beer. “You think Mark would ever look
at a fatty like you when he’s getting everything from the hottest girl in our
class?”

Mark
and Karyn were sleeping together? No, no. Please, God, no.

“I
wrote it before I knew he was with Karyn.” I wished I didn’t sound so squeaky.

Finn
scoffed. “So? I can’t believe you thought he actually liked you. Mark feels
sorry for you. He’s only nice to you because his parents told him it would be
wrong to dump you when you don’t have any other friends. He laughs about you
when you aren’t there. Did you know that?”

“No.
He doesn’t.” Tears pressed at the backs of my eyes. I swallowed and shook my
head to push them away. “Finn–”

“Give
me the letter,” he snapped. His hand at my cleavage fisted and for a moment I
was certain he was about to hit me.

“N-no,”
I said, but my voice was strangled. It was getting harder and harder to breathe
with him pressing down on me like that. And the feeling of his fingers on my
skin turned my stomach.

The
rest happened too fast.

The
door clicked, then thumped, as if someone had tried to open it and run into it
when they couldn’t.

“Hel–!”
I tried to scream, but Finn’s mouth came down on mine to muffle it.

I
panicked and twisted, brought both my hands up to shove at his chest.

And
just like that, he grabbed the letter and pulled it from my grip. The note
drifted to the carpet.

“Yes!”
He shoved off me and took two steps back, leaving me sprawled against his bed,
sagging almost to the floor before I caught my own weight.

I
sucked in a huge breath, ready to scream again. But the door jiggled and a high
voice rose behind it.

“Finn?
You in there, gor-geeoush?”

It
wasn’t Karyn. The voice sounded too normal. Must have been one of the girls
hanging off him at the keg.

Finn
glanced at the door, but didn’t respond. Just ran a hand through his hair,
which was sticking in five different directions, and waved the letter at me.

“Better
get moving, C. I’d hate to have to tell everyone you attacked me in my room.
Again.”

I
pushed to stand and almost fell over. My entire body trembled. I locked my
knees and grabbed at the bedside table for balance.

“Give
it back,” I said, but it came out on a breath, barely more than a whisper.

“Not.
Even. A chance,” he spit at me. “And since you’re so irritatingly everywhere,
I’ll be making copies. So even if you get this back, it won’t matter. You say
one word and everyone will
still
know what you are. What you
want.
”
He waggled his eyebrows and my stomach punched into my throat.

Swallowing
bile, I forced myself to stand straight. Put my shoulders back. Ignore the
feeling that I had just been violated on every level.

“Give
it back,” I repeated, a little stronger this time.

Finn’s
lips curled up into a smile. “Oh.
Okay
,” he said sarcastically. And he
stared, waiting.

And…oh,
gawd…it all crashed down on me then. He was too much stronger. Too much bigger.
I couldn’t get it back now. And now…now he knew I was trying to. I believed him
about the copies. He would do it.

Which
meant I was screwed. Because there was no way he wasn’t going to use that.

My
eyes burned. My throat closed. A tiny sound escaped before I could swallow it.

Finn’s
eyes flashed and he took a step closer. “Did you need some help with your
sweater?”

“Don’t!”
I gasped and lunged for the door.

He
stopped, laughing, as I fumbled with the knob, turned the lock, threw the door
open and ran out, past a drunk looking girl who turned when I burst through the
door and took two wobbly steps back in the direction of the room before I
passed her.

“Finn,
whaddyer doing wish
her?
” rose up behind me as I ran for the stairs.

But
before I got there I heard voices and footsteps coming up.

Panicking,
realizing there was no way I could get through the house without making a
scene, I whirled and raced across the hall, grabbed the first door I saw and
threw myself into the room.

I
slammed the door shut behind me and leaned against it.

The
tears came then, hot and prickly, squeezing between my eyelashes and rolling
down my cheeks.

I
felt dirty. Like I’d rolled in mud. My stomach spiraled with self-loathing. The
memory of Finn’s hands on me, of his lips on mine…It made my skin crawl.

I
didn’t want to think about it. Didn’t want to remember it, or think about what
it meant. I had to get myself looking normal. I had to get away from here. Go
home. Screw Mark and his love life. Screw Karyn. And
screw
Finn.

I
took a breath and fumbled along the wall for a light switch.

When
I found one I turned back to the room, looking for something that might help me
clean up. Then I gasped.

It
was a huge room, full of floral frills and thick wood furniture. To my left a
couple doors opened off, one to shadowy depths, likely a closet. The other
revealing white tiles and the glint of metal. A bathroom.

I’d
broken the golden rule of high school parties and entered the parent’s bedroom.
But I’d be careful. I wouldn’t touch anything. I’d make sure there was no evidence
I’d been here.

I
just needed a minute or two alone. And maybe some water…

I
stumbled across the floor, swallowing hard.

Thankfully,
Finn’s parents were fancy enough to have water cups in the bathroom. My fingers
shook so bad it took three tries to get the top cup off the stack. But I turned
on the faucet and filled it, took a long drink and told myself I wasn’t going
to throw it back up.