The Anatomy of a Broken Heart //Completed//

39. Santana

The sun beat down on us, but the autumn air was a worthy contender, making the hair on my arms rise despite the jean jacket I wore. I pulled out a cigarette, if only to warm me up a little, while I watched some of the guys skateboard across the concrete. Despite the smoke, the cold air smelled clean, sterilizing my skin. I still felt kind of dirty from seeing Greg yesterday.

"Dad's back, by the way. In case you cared." My face snapped to the side at the sound of my sister's voice. Maria stood with her hands crossed in front of her, clearly angry about something. She never came around here, to the school bus graveyard where all the decommissioned buses were left to decompose. Stoner haven, as Zealand liked to call it. A cocoon of smoke usually clouded the air while the mechanics tried to resurrect their yellow chariots, which was the perfect cover for all the people who wanted to come here and light up before another day of useless education. I liked to come here just to reset the catalog of faces I had to see inside the halls. These guys had a benign presence, hardly ever in class just like me, which afforded me a little bit of variety and peace.

"Yeah, I got your text." I dropped the butt I was holding. I hated when she saw me smoking, even if it was just a regular cigarette.

She lifted her hands incredulously. "So you just don't bother replying?"

"I was busy. Anyway, when do I ever?" I laughed, but there was nothing funny about the way her eyes started glistening.

"Busy with these losers?"

"Hey now, little girl. Who you callin' a loser?" Frank, a super senior and one of King's guys walked up and stood next to me, mimicking Maria's stance.

"Shove off, Frank," I said and walked closer to my sister.

"I'm getting pretty sick of this shit, S."

"Whoa, wait! What is going on?" Sweet little Maria with her endless array of flower dresses never spoke like this to anyone. I'd never seen her angry and it was freaking me out. So I grabbed her hand and again demanded to know what was wrong.

"Nothing. Just wanted to make sure you were coming home to see dad." Her big brown eyes looked at the floor instead of at me and I couldn't help but think that this was the only inheritance mom left us. This avoidance of anything remotely confrontational, or important.

"Hey," my voice was softer and I still held onto her hand. "You're never mad at me."

"Yeah, cheer up cutie. I got somethin' to help you relax."

"Gross."

"Shut up Frank!" I yelled over my shoulder.

"Well, maybe I should start getting mad." She pulled away from me. "Maybe that'll get you to notice anything."

"What are we talking about, again?"

"Forget it. You'd know if you were paying attention. Just go home today, okay?" Her voice broke on the last word, squeezing my heart. I watched her walk away, grateful that she didn't linger here where she didn't belong. With the losers. All of us.

Walking back up to the school, ignoring Frank's calls to come back and stay, I made my mind up. If she wouldn't tell me what was wrong, I needed to find out on my own. Her friends usually at breakfast in the cafeteria, and sure enough when I got there, they were there. Sitting in the worst possible table.

I didn't want to see Caleb today. It was mainly the reason I was at the graveyard today; I was planning to avoid him forever actually after yesterday's humiliation. He hadn't made a huge deal out of it when he could have and I was eternally grateful, but the fact that he knew bothered me. It wasn't my fault. I wasn't about to go blaming myself for Greg's idiocy. Unwittingly, though, I'd fallen into this weird trap set up by the universe in which I couldn't let Caleb know these things for fear of seeing the look in his eyes that everyone had when they looked at me. Even some of my friends had that look sometimes and it killed me, even if I would never admit it. And yet, I couldn't seem to keep them hidden from him.