Our Broken Pieces (Preview)

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

It doesn't matter. I blow out a breath slowly, feeling it get caught on a hiccup before it escapes and rushes from my salty lips. The tears refuse to stop falling, even though I've had my eyes squeezed shut for at least five minutes. Seeing them together does this to me every time, but I'd rather hide in here than let them know. The cold of the tile in this disgusting old bathroom starts to seep through my sweatshirt and I lean forward, hugging my legs in front of me and trying once more to suck in a big breath.

I can't believe that as hard as I try to avoid the happy new couple, they seem to come walking down the hallway or popping out of a classroom when I least expect it. Leaning my head against the tile wall I attempt to block out the memory of my latest run-in with Brady and Elle. I thought I'd avoid their public display of affection by sneaking through the hall by the cafeteria to bio, and I was almost to safety when they came strolling out of the caf hand in hand.

It's been a long time since Brady looked at me the way he looks at Elle. His lips are curled up slightly and his eyes seem almost glossed over as if he's staring down upon something amazing. I used to tell myself that he didn't look at me that way anymore because our relationship had moved on to something more serious. I could fool myself into believing that he wasn't enamored by me anymore because we both knew so much about each other. I realize now that there were lots of signs that he wasn't in love with me anymore, but I just wouldn't open my eyes up to see them. It didn't help that the one time I had voiced my concerns about Brady's behavior my best friend had told me it was all in my head.

Elle and I met on our first day of kindergarten. Her ponytail got caught in the zipper of her backpack and I had to walk her to the office. I spent the entire time telling jokes to distract her from the possibility that the principal was going to have to cut her ponytail off, and by the time we made it down the hall we were already planning our first playdate. We'd been best friends ever since. When we were little we had a standing Friday night sleepover, just the two of us, and when we were older we always got ready for a party at one of our houses. I was the first person she told when her parents were getting a divorce and she was the person I went to when my grandmother was diagnosed with cancer. I called her the second I got home from the date where Brady said he loved me. I really could have used her friendship when I needed to tell someone about how he'd broken my heart.

The betrayal came out of nowhere. If I didn't see it for myself, I would have never believed that either of them was capable of hurting me so deeply. I still wonder what it might be like if I hadn't left my sweatshirt in my car that morning two weeks ago. I only had ten minutes before the first bell rang, but I wouldn't get another chance to grab it until lunch. Brady's truck was parked a few spots down from mine and I could hear his music blaring through the open windows, so after grabbing my sweatshirt, I headed to his truck and peeked into the open window assuming I'd find him gathering his football gear. Instead, I found him making out with my best friend.

Remembering that moment in the parking lot still turns my stomach. It's not even like they were trying to be stealth about it. Anyone running a little late would have seen them out there together. I stood there, speechless, as I watched the two of them throw away years of friendship in the backseat of his truck. I don't even remember what I said that got their attention, but I remember running back to my car on legs that felt boneless. It felt like I was watching it play out in a movie—my body completely disconnected from my mind. By the time I pulled into my driveway at home, my brain was swimming with a million questions about how long it had been going on and who might have known.

If someone had tried to tell me a few weeks ago that I'd be running from a problem, I wouldn't have believed you. As a matter of fact, no one would have believed it. I'm the girl who people always say has everything together. Before the breakup, I'd never cried at school or behaved in any way that would make people think I had any problem bigger than trying to get my parents to extend my curfew. That obviously wasn't true—but no one but Elle knew that. Now, though, I don't think any of my classmates would see me crying on the bathroom floor and think that I had my life together.