The Broken One

By Christine H Bailey

Sixteen-year-old Farris is picking up the pieces after the untimely death of her best friend. But even one year later, she can’t seem to find “normal” again—not until Lane Evans pops back into her life and pushes her to face reality. When he offers her the chance to find the truth, Farris fears what will surface. Is it too much too soon or just what she needs to move forward?

• Language: English
• Publisher: vinspirepublishing
• Release date: Mar 14, 2016
• ISBN: 9781311072849

Book preview

The Broken One

Christine H. Bailey

Smashwords Edition

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. Any reproduction or other unauthorized use of the material or artwork herein is prohibited.

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only.  This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people.  If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient.  If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy.  Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Vinspire Publishing

www.vinspirepublishing.com

Copyright ©2016 Christine Bailey

Cover illustration copyright © 2016 Elaina Lee/For the Muse Designs

First Edition

Printed and bound in the United States of America. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information storage and retrieval system-except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in a magazine, newspaper, or on the Web-without permission in writing from the publisher. For information, please contact Vinspire Publishing, LLC, P.O. Box 1165, Ladson, SC 29456-1165.

All characters in this work are purely fictional and have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

ISBN: 978-0-9971732-2-2

Published by Vinspire Publishing, LLC

For Arthur…

For teaching me how to chase dreams and fight for what I believe.

For helping me understand all of life’s little dinks.

Chapter One

I’ve often heard that few people actually remember things that happened to them before the age of three. My dad once told me his earliest memory was at age four, and I told him that mine was at two. He didn’t challenge it. And for a really long time, I truly believed that the memory of my mom and me in the snow was real. Don’t get me wrong—it was real in the sense that it happened, but that memory, well, it came from a home video.

In the video, my mom held me in her arms. Bundled up in a pink parka and braving the cold in the Colorado Rockies, I looked like a little fish swallowing flakes as fast as they fell. My mom wore a pink coat too—only hers had a fur-trimmed hood framing her wind-chapped face. As I devoured huge crystal snowflakes, Mom laughed and smothered my fat cheeks with kisses. Years later, Dad told me we’d taken that trip to the mountains for Christmas—our last with her. That was the only memory I had of my mom, and every time it snowed, images of that day resurfaced in my mind.

Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, snow swirled in the gray sky like mini-tornados. I pushed away the thoughts of my mom and looked at the woman across from me at the kitchen table. Do you think we’ll get the storm? I asked her.

I’m not sure, Farris. She tapped her slender fingers on the slick black tabletop and turned slightly in her seat.

I watched her gaze out the window into a sea of other high-rise buildings like ours—mine and Dad’s, not mine and Lucy’s.

It’s been a crazy winter, a crazy February. Did you know it’s colder here than in New York and Chicago right now? she asked.

Really? I asked, poking at the wrinkled green peas on my dinner plate. They collided with the mountain of mashed potatoes Lucy had piled on for me. I told her I wasn’t hungry, but she insisted on loading my plate with two slices of roast and heaping sides.

Yeah. It’s beautiful though, she said, turning back around.

I hope we get a ton of snow, so Kelsey and I can go snowboarding in the park tomorrow.

Lucy bit her lip. Snowboarding, huh? But you don’t have a board, do you?

No, but if it snows really hard, I’m buying the one at All Seasons Sports. I’ve been eyeing it for weeks, but I figured what’s the sense of having one in Georgia, right?

Lucy shoveled in a forkful of meat and nodded. Mid-chew, she said, Henry and I should come with you guys, if the snow sticks.

Sure. Wait—where is Henry? I asked her, shocked I hadn’t noticed until that second.

With his dad. Speaking of dads, have you talked to yours?

I looked up from my peas to Lucy, who was waiting for my answer. A soft dusting of teal shadow accented her deep blue eyes edged with tiny creases—but not enough to count since she was only twenty-seven. I had known Lucy for four years, ever since Dad and I moved from Los Angeles to Atlanta for his job. He hired Lucy as his personal assistant and, as he put it, my caregiver since he was a corporate lawyer with ridiculously long hours and I had no mom. Someone had to pick me up from school, help me with homework, and feed me dinner, and that was Lucy. After Mom died, it became Gram’s job, but she had stayed in California.

Dad told me he chose Lucy because she was a single mom working her way through graduate school. She was the niece of one of the senior partners at his firm. This last part I learned later. At first, I hated the idea of someone coming into my life and playing mom Monday through Friday from 3:00 p.m. until my dad got home. I had loved our life in LA with Gram. But eventually, I got used to having Lucy and Henry around every day, and sometimes even on weekends if Dad was working on a big case.

There were times I pretended Henry was my little brother. I mean, in some ways, he practically was. When Lucy first interviewed for the job, she rolled the stroller into the apartment, parked it in the center of the living room, and pulled out the doughy, smiling toddler. Meet Henry, she said. We’re a package deal. Dad said he loved her tenacity, which I had to look up later on dictionary.com. From that day forward, Henry and Lucy became a part of my everyday life.

Have you? Lucy repeated.

Have I what?

What’s wrong? You’ve been zoning out all afternoon. Everything okay? she asked.

I have a biology exam tomorrow. We need snow and ice—and lots of it—so school can be canceled.

You sure that’s it? Lucy asked. You don’t usually worry about taking tests.

I shoved my plate away and shrugged.

What is it?

I sighed. So, Kelsey was acting strange today.

Strange how?

"She always tells me everything—I mean everything. But lately, she’s been avoiding me and acting all sketchy when I see her."

What do you mean?

Like she’s hiding something. She’s so closed off, you know? Something’s up with her, but I have no idea what.

When was the last time you talked to her?

I texted her right after school and asked what was going on. She said she was fine and just studying with Garrett.

Garrett? Lucy asked. She pulled on her bulky, white turtleneck that made her look like she was wearing a neck brace.

Yep. They’re together now, I said.

Well, maybe she’s just having a bad day. We all do sometimes, sweetie.

Maybe, I mumbled. I grabbed my plate and headed toward the Asian-inspired kitchen with its sleek counter tops and light wood cabinets with frosted glass doors. After covering my food with cellophane and putting it in the fridge, I told Lucy I’d be in my room if she needed me.

I barely made it down the hall before stopping mid-stride and turning around. Dad will be home by 7:00, I said, remembering she had asked earlier if I had talked to him. You don’t have to stay, though. I’ll be fine for a couple hours by myself.

I don't mind staying, Lucy said, still parked at the kitchen table with her food.

From my spot in the hall, I had a clear view of the entire apartment. It wasn’t huge, but it was big enough with two bedrooms, one on each side of the apartment, plus a loft that overlooked the open kitchen-living room combo. The back wall, made up entirely of windows, offered an amazing view of the Atlanta skyline from every room in the condo. I’m almost sixteen, not twelve, I added.

I think I’ll stay and study for a little while. I’m meeting a friend tonight, so no sense going home when I’d have to come back into the city anyway.

My phone vibrated in my hand. I figured Kelsey wanted to apologize for ignoring me, but it was my weather app charting the winter storm. I looked up at Lucy and said, They’re predicting two inches of snow.

Lucy nodded. As long as it’s not ice…

Yeah, not sure.

I slipped off to my room and plopped down on the bed with my laptop. I checked to see if Kelsey had posted anything online. She hadn’t. I racked my brain, trying to think of anything I had done to upset her. Was she mad at me for talking to Garrett at the café the day before? I wasn’t flirting with him. We were just mouthing off about the Georgia State basketball game, and she was right there with us.

I decided not to call her. Whatever it was, I figured she’d be over it by tomorrow. Besides, as soon as I showed up at her house with my brand new snowboard, she’d get over herself. Snow days had a way of making everything okay. Imagining mounds of mind-blowing snow, I kicked my backpack to the floor in hopes of a big storm. My bag hit the hardwood with a loud thud, spilling my monster-of-a-biology book. I groaned, then chanted at the darkening sky outside my window: come on snow, come on snow, come on.

What’d you say? Lucy asked, poking her head in my room.

Oh! I jumped at the sound of her voice. You scared me. Nothing.

Brought you a brownie for dessert. She walked over and handed me a caramel-infused chocolate lump on a blue napkin. Thought you could use a treat.

Thanks. I broke a corner off and popped it in my mouth. Delicious.

There’s more in the kitchen. Lucy lingered at the edge of my bed. I recorded Voice Nation last night. Want to watch with me?

I looked down at my biology book with its spine facing up at me. Why not.

Lucy patted my knee. Good. Come on. I’ll grab the milk.

I followed her to the living room where we watched an hour of people belting out tunes for a trio of judges. A few minutes before 7:00, after the kid from Ohio was voted off, Dad walked through the door. Lucy jumped up, doting on him like a lovesick housewife. She warmed up his dinner, listed the errands she’d run for him earlier, and joined him at the dinner table. I flipped through the channels, trying to tune Dad and Lucy out.

Thanks for staying, he said to her.

Of course. How’s the case going? Lucy asked.

Not great. Another setback today.

Sorry to hear that, she said.

Hi, Farris. Have a good day? Dad asked.

Guess so.

Hey, turn on the news, will you?

Sure, I said, flipping to his favorite channel. I stood up and planted the remote beside him on the kitchen table. Look! I pointed to the snow swirling in the night sky. It’s coming down a lot harder now. Both Lucy and my dad looked up. I ran over and pressed my hands against the cold glass.

I should probably get going, Lucy said. If you need anything while I’m out, let me know.

Thanks, Dad said. He followed her to the door as I sat down at the bar, still focused on the snowfall. He lowered his voice, and Lucy’s tone matched his. I glanced over at them as they whispered and locked eyes with Dad which clammed him up immediately. Be safe, he said to Lucy.

I will. Bye, guys, Lucy said.

The door clicked shut, and I eased onto a barstool. In my mind, I counted three-two-one as Dad headed toward me.

Lucy said you’ve been distracted today. Everything okay?

Yeah, I guess.

You can talk to me, you know.

I know. I clenched my teeth.

If you want to.

I don’t. But thanks.

Dad rested his hand on my shoulder and sighed like he had somehow failed me or something.

I’m fine, Dad. Stop worrying.

Easy for you to say, he said, scratching his jaw.

I jumped up from the stool and grabbed the remote from the kitchen table. Here, I said, jabbing it into his ribs. Go watch TV or something. I’ll be in my room studying for my bio test. As I started for my room, Dad pulled me back and kissed my forehead.

I love you, Farris, he said into my hair.

Quit being so dramatic, I said, smiling at him. On the way back to my room, I stopped and said under my breath, Love you, too, Dad. I didn’t like saying it out loud, like I might jinx it or something.

The next morning, when I opened my eyes, the blinding light stung like someone had turned on a fluorescent bulb over the city. Dad, who had knocked on my door and then had taken it upon himself to open my shades, stood in front of my window, beaming like a little kid.

Look at this, Farris, he said. It’s incredible. The whole city is covered in snow.

I rubbed my eyes and lumbered out of bed to stand beside him. I’d only seen snow like this once—in that home video. My phone on the bedside table buzzed with a weather update, also showing the time. I take it there’s no school today? I asked, yawning. I had stayed up until almost midnight, listening to music in bed and watching the snow shower the city.

Dad sipped his steaming coffee. No school. Atlanta is practically paralyzed from the icy road conditions. It’s a mess out there on the interstate—on all of the roads from what they’re saying on the news.

I need to call Kelsey. We’re going snowboarding in the park today after I buy my board, I said, slipping back into bed.

It only snowed a few inches. I'm not sure that's enough for snowboarding.

I ignored Dad and texted my best friend about our big plans for the day. A few seconds passed with no reply, so I called her. Again. It went straight to voicemail, and I yelled into the phone, What is your problem?

Dad, who had already slipped off down the hall, called back to me. What did you say?

Nothing, I yelled back. After a few minutes of brooding, I untangled from my covers and stomped off to the kitchen where I found Lucy sitting at the counter beside Dad. You look awful, I said to her.

Farris! Dad said.

What? She’s wearing the same clothes as yesterday, I said to him. And your mascara is all smeared under your eyes, I added to her. What are you doing here, anyway?

It’s okay, Jeff. Lucy patted his arm.

I bit my lip and waited for her to answer.

She eased her hand from my dad’s sleeve and rubbed at the dark smudges under her eyes. I couldn’t get out of the city last night, she said. After I went to the movies with my friend, I got stuck behind a ten-car pileup on I-65. The storm hit fast.

Why didn’t your friend come and get you?

Your place was closer. It happened right off exit 208, just a couple of miles from here. I pulled my car off on the shoulder and walked here. Luckily, your dad was still up and let me crash in the loft.

Oh. I grabbed a piece of toast from Dad’s plate and dabbed it in his bright yellow yolks.

I can make you some eggs, too, Lucy said.

No time. Kelsey and I have big plans today. I’m about to head to All Seasons to get my board and then to her house.

She called? Everything’s fine? Lucy asked.

Not exactly, I answered. I cleared my throat and loomed over Dad, who tapped at his iPad. I kissed the top of his head full of thick, blond hair, a shade darker than mine. The texture was the same, too—coarse, like a horsetail. He said my mother had always loved his hair. I believed him because in old pictures and home movies, she was always running her hands through it.

I swallowed another bite of Dad’s toast, checked my phone again, and ran to get ready. Twenty minutes later and all bundled up in layers, I took to the city streets in pursuit of my snow day festivities.

At my first stop, I struck out. While the snowboard still glistened in the window, the door to the sports shop was locked, and the inside lights were off. I knocked and tugged on the door, thinking maybe someone was inside getting ready to open up. But no one came. I kicked at a heap of heavy snow on the sidewalk and decided to head toward the park on the other side of my school.

I crossed the street and rounded the corner onto Tucker Avenue, the whole time sliding across patches of icy pavement. The city was definitely moving in slow motion with buses, taxies, and the regular commuter traffic stunted by the winter storm. Compared to a typical Thursday, the city was eerily still but more beautiful than ever, capped in the white snow.

I trucked up the icy hill to my school, passing the brick and stone entrance pillar etched with The University School at Georgia State, est. 1929, which we called USG for short. Before speeding across the main parking lot, I turned and chucked a massive snowball and hit the 1929 square in the face. Yesss! I called out.

A security vehicle slowly rounded the corner from the back of the main building, and I took off toward Montgomery Park, Atlanta’s small-scale Central Park. The frigid air made my lungs burn with every gasp, and even my face blazed from the wind’s wicked lashes. It was probably a good thing I couldn’t buy the snowboard. I had no idea what a wimp I was in the cold weather. I grew up in Southern Cali. What did I know?

Forget the park, I muttered. I changed direction and headed off to Kelsey’s house. She’d have to let me in. It’d be inhumane to