A Million Shattered Pieces

Chapter Six

"Deep in your wounds are seeds, waiting to grow beautiful flowers."

A week passed since my birthday, and Brock never mentioned the words I'd whispered to him as he fell asleep. I knew he must not have heard them. Part of me felt grateful for that, yet another, deeper part, felt disappointed. It may have saved our friendship, but it also meant he would never feel the same way.

He seemed to be happier, though. The fake smiles became spread few and far between. An entirely different person emerged in place of the depressed boy I'd grown to have a crush on. Brock would try his best to cheer me up, taking every opportunity to make me laugh or smile.

When I looked in those cloud-gray eyes, the lurking sadness didn't appear. I didn't know if it meant he was truly learning to be happier, or if he'd just learned to hide it better. Friday morning, one week after my birthday, he didn't show up to drive me to school.

Panic flared throughout my entire body. I was getting ready to walk over to his house, when the bus drove by. It was either risk being late, or spending the entire day worried.

In the end, the bus won over. I told myself not to think about it, texting Brock to let him know I'd miss him at school. An hour passed without response. Then two. Three, four, until it was finally lunch. I sat alone at a table, still texting him every five minutes. There was an army of messages from me with no response.

Tears welled in my eyes, the guilt of not prioritizing him over school punching into my gut. I started to rise from the table, when Zoe dropped down across from me.

Her amber eyes bored into mine, genuine concern shining. "Claire, I need to talk to you."

"Can it wait? There's something I need to do." I reached for my hardcover book, but Zoe slammed her hand down on top of it. Surprised, I looked back up at her.

"It's about Brochan."

That captured my attention. I sat back down, sitting straight in the chair. "What about him?"

"Did you—are you aware that he has some, um, issues?"

I frowned. "Yes..."

Zoe chewed on her bottom lip, taking her hand off my book and leaning against the back of the chair. "Do you know why he moved here? What happened at his old school?"

When I opened my mouth to answer, she cut me off and continued. "He's suicidal, Claire. A friend of mine from his old school told me. There's rumors going around that he almost bled out near the beginning of September. Everyone thinks he's going to try again soon."

"You should know more than anyone that rumors aren't always true, Zoe."

She looked flustered, fingers reaching up to fiddle with her braids. "I don't think these are false, Claire. I'm telling you this because I care about you, and I don't want to see you get your heart broken by him."

"Did you ever stop to think that maybe Brock just needs someone to be there for him?" My patience was starting to wear thin, blood rushing to my face. "You know nothing about him. Not everyone is lucky enough to be born with natural charisma. We can't all befriend every person who so much as looks at us."

"That's not what I meant, and you know it." Zoe sighed, leaning forward to rest her elbows on the table. "I'm just warning you. I know you think you can save him, but you can't. A person like that? They won't get better just because someone tries to love them. This is the real world. There's no happy ending for people like Brock."