A Million Shattered Pieces

Chapter Seven

"Good people are like candles; they burn themselves up to give others light."

            "Do you have your speech ready for English?" Brock threw an arm around my shoulders, another genuine smile on his face.

            We were sitting beside each other in the cafeteria. It was the last week of classes before Christmas break, the week before we were set to go out together to see a movie.

            I had, in fact, written my speech. But I knew I would never be able to read it to the class knowing Brock was around. It also horrified me to think I would have to speak in front of nearly two dozen people.

            I stared at the book in front of us on the table, reaching out to pull it closer. "Yeah, I do. Have you got a speech ready?"

            "It's not any good. I'm considering asking Mrs. Witherspoon to just fail me."

            A frown tugged at my lips, and I turned to look at him. "Why? Don't you know what subject to write on?"

            "Mine's already finished. We have to present them at the end of the week, but I don't think I'll get a good mark on it, anyway." He pulled away from me, leaning on the table. "I just wrote about nature. Not very original."

            The subject of his depression hadn't come up in two weeks. I could still remember the bottles of prescriptions, the way he'd kept mostly quiet the entire time I remained at the house that day. My feelings were still hidden in the darkness. I could sense them growing more with each passing day, manifesting into something I could no longer deny.

            When Brock looked at me, I didn't see a bright future. I saw a tragic end. But it didn't stop the emotions brewing inside. It seemed every night ended with me holding back tears.

            Knowing I was falling in love with a depressed boy. That Zoe had been right, and there would be no way for me to save him. Even giving him everything I could possibly give wouldn't change that. It wouldn't make him happy. It wouldn't cure him.

            "Do you think it's appropriate to talk about mental illness to people?" I turned to face him, my heart picking up speed. "Or do you think it's a controversial subject?"

            His eyebrows pulled closer together as he frowned. "I'm not sure. Probably controversial, since most people try to sweep it under the rug. Why?"

            I chewed on my bottom lip a moment. "That's what my speech is about."

            "Oh, is it now? I—"

            "Hey, guys." Zoe plopped down in the seat across from us, giving me a look. I knew she'd come to see if the rumors about Brock were true. "Whatcha two talking about?"

            Brock looked confused. He stared at Zoe, and it shocked me to see no hints of attraction in his eyes. "Uh, hi?"

            "I don't believe I've ever introduced myself. I'm Zoe. Zoe Odinga. And I know who you are, Brochan Ruskin. I've been Claire's best friend since elementary."

            Brock's confusion looked like it was growing into discomfort. He stared at Zoe's outstretched hand a moment before taking it. "Nice to meet you, Zoe. You can call me Brock."

            "Don't you have class right now?" I asked, staring at Zoe. Though I still loved her as a friend, I also knew having her around Brock wouldn't be a good thing.

            She took her eyes off Brock to look at me. "I do, but I asked to be excused. Just wanted to make sure you two are doing okay. Our friends have been saying you look really sad lately, Claire."