His Girl

Gone

Home room was humming with whispers. They were all talking about Breaker but he wasn't there.

"It was bad, I saw it. Well, I heard from someone who saw," a boy said.

"He called me," Camila said. Pain shot through me.

"How'd he call you if he was arrested?"

"His mom called me. Same difference."

They couldn't resist their urge to exaggerate.

"We're going to see him this week," she added. I hated her.

How had he been arrested? I was with him. Regret was heavy on my heart. If I'd been nicer, he'd be here and not in jail. I didn't have to shove him away like I did.

"What happened?" I whispered to Jake.

"Typical Breaker," he said.

"What?"

"Got in a fight."

"Why?"

"Pfft, Venice at night." Another boy added with an eye roll.

"He better keep it clean or he'll be away for a while again."

"Don't say that! I cannot go through that again." Camila was hunched over her desk.

"They're not together," I groused under my breath.

"On again, off again," Jake shrugged.

"How long was he gone for last time?" I asked.

"A year."

"A year? For what?" It made sense, he was entirely too mature for a junior.

"Tearing up a store, assaulting an officer, oh and umm possession of a firearm."

"Where is he?"

"Sylmar." He tipped his head toward the window, "up north about an hour."

The chasm in my chest got deeper throughout the day. All I wanted to do was see him, to go back to last night in his truck. If I had another chance, I'd do it differently.

I was not looking forward to mom being home all evening. I opened the door quietly, maybe she wouldn't notice.

"Chanel?"

"Yeah." Who else?

"I have some news," she announced.

"What?"

"Our company is partnering with a mission downtown to feed the homeless and I want us to participate together."

"Mom, I don't know."

"Chanel, I'm trying real hard here!"

I was taken aback by her anger.

"Okay, geez."

I lay on my bed fantasizing about Breaker. Sigh. I drifted back to our time together, I could still feel his lips, his fingers. Shiver.

Closing my eyes, I did my best to relive every moment of him. His arm around me, the way he smelled, the sound of the engine in his truck. Our concert in the city. Wait. He helped the homeless. Suddenly, I was more enthusiastic about mom's cause.

"Tell me more about what we'll be doing." I found her in the bathroom removing her makeup.

"Really?" Her head tilted.

"Yes," I smiled. "I want to help."

"Oh Chanel bell, that means the world to me." She wrapped her arms around me. "I know it's hard, sweetie," she was on the verge of tears.

"Mom, it's fine."

"It's not fine, honey. Nothing about this is fine." We both gave into sobs. She wiped my eyes with tissue.

"I mean, I'm okay." Probably hard for her to believe as I was bawling.

"If I can get my certifications and get in good with the leadership, I can give you things again. You don't have to worry."

"Oh mom," I fell on her shoulder, holding her tightly. "It's fine."

"You didn't even get new clothes for school."

"No one there knows my clothes, so it doesn't matter," I said. She laughed from a deep and pain stricken place.

"You're a good egg, Chanel bell." She pinched my cheeks, that was Dad's old move. It cut deep inside. I looked down.

"How is school?" she asked. "I don't know anything about your new friends. New boys?" Her eyebrows raised.

I was relieved that she didn't press on the friends thing. Ugh, sometimes Jake sat with me at lunch, did that count? Being on Camila's hit list was social suicide. But, boys? It must have shown on my face.

"There is, I can tell! Spill it over dinner, sister." We made our way into the kitchen. "At least I already removed my mascara," she said as she dabbed the last trace of tears away.

She took the marinated chicken from the fridge and prepared it for the oven.

"Slice this for the salad." She slid a tomato and knife my way. I grabbed the cutting board and washed my hands.

"I don't know." I blushed.

"Oh come on. What's his name?"

"B..., uh, Adam."

"Oh honey, you're stuttering. It must be serious."

"He's, I don't know. He's cool." I was feverish inside.

"Does he live around here? Invite him for dinner."

"Mom! No!" The thought was so startling, I objected involuntarily.

"Oh Chanel, you've got it bad. Tell me about him. Is he a good student? Athlete? How'd you meet?"

Normally, I couldn't stand her automatic-fire type questioning, but at the moment it was helpful. I didn't know where he lived actually, except for in jail at the moment.

"He's smart." Good student? No, but he was witty which requires intelligence. I wasn't lying. "We have home room together." I folded my arms on the counter and buried my face.

"Does he like you too? If he's smart as you say, he does, but do you know?"

I nodded. Oh no, an avalanche of emotion inside me.

"Some of the other girls don't like that." I was wailing again. I wanted to tell her everything but I just couldn't. She'd be too disappointed in me.

"Are they taking it out on you." My pain was making her defensive. I nodded. "I'm going to speak to the principal."

"No! It's fine. He doesn't let them bother me."

"He? So are you guys going around together? Are you an item?"

"I don't really know," my voice was a whimper.

"Does he hold your hand?" She walked close to me and was stroking my arm and hair. I hid my face in my hands.

"Mom, I have to tell you something." She stiffened, color drained from her face.

"Yeah?"

"One day, after school, there was a concert in a park and we went." I shrugged and held my breath.

"Is that all?" she asked. I nodded. "Oh, thank God."

"What did you think?"

"You never know, nowadays." She patted my stomach.

"Mom!"

"Well, I'm going to need to meet this boy." She smiled excitedly. "That's a nonnegotiable."

Gulp.