The Broken Ones

Chapter 3

Taylor:

My bed was cold. I felt like I could see my breath through the darkness of my room. Walter never turned up the heat for my room. He said he didn't want to waste the energy on me. To top it all off, my sheets were about as thin as they could get. I ended up walking to my dresser and pulling out my hoodie, throwing it over my tank top and shorts. Just as I slipped back in bed with a harsh shiver, I heard my phone buzz. I looked at the bright screen and found Kat's name lighting up on the screen. Her text read, "I know it's 12 but I need someone to talk to."

I opened the text and replied:

Me: I'm still up.

Kat: Oh good. Missy's missing.

Me: She's always missing. Did you check the litter box?

Kat: Of course I checked the litter box. Tay, I'm freaking out.

Me: Just take a deep breath.

I waited for her reply. She answered back a few minutes later:

Kat: I found her. She was in the garage underneath the truck. She hissed at me though.

Me: I'm sorry. Tell me all about your quest to find your cat tomorrow. Love you, goodnight.

Kat: Love you. Nighty-night.

I clicked off the phone and set it back on my dresser. She always forgets about her cat. Slowly, very slowly, my mind shut off. My eyes closed and my muscles relaxed. I finally fell asleep in my bone-chilling bed.

The next morning was a blur. My mind was still dreaming as I got ready for school, grabbed my bag, and walked down the street towards Kat's house. I saw her running down the steps as I approached her driveway, her short hair bobbing against her head, and her backpack swinging vigorously behind her. She quickly waved to me, skipped into the garage, hopped in her truck, and drove down the driveway towards me. "Get in, loser," she yelled.

I walked over to the passenger side of the car and opened the rickety door, stepping into the truck and buckling myself in. I shut the door, then jolted in my seat as Kat suddenly bolted out of the driveway and down the street. "We have ten minutes until school starts. I don't think you need to go fifty miles-per-hour," I breathed.

"Still," she simply said.

I observed her as she drove. Her brown skin looked darker against her yellow shirt and light jeans, and her nails were colored in red. As always, her ghostly white eyes stood out against her whole body. Today, she didn't seem self-conscious about them. Her pink cheeks and rose-colored lips curling into a smile informed me she was in a cheerful mood. "You look happy," I said, more as a question than a statement.

"The Bachelorette was on."

I nodded. "Oh."

"My favorite person won. I'm so happy."

"I can tell."

She grinned at me. "Hey, I thought we agreed that you would go to school with no makeup today."

I tucked my hands into the sleeves of my hoodie, a habit of my anxiety. "Yeah, I don't know." I didn't really want to explain that I didn't want to go with no makeup, how I felt ugly without it on. Makeup was like a shield for me, and I didn't see how that was a bad thing. Some people prefer it and others don't.