Page 21 of Paper Hearts

I push the pain aside, grit my teeth and suck in a breath. I don’t want to ever look away from his stare. It’s dark, troubling, but grounds me when I feel like flying. Everyone scrambles around and stupid Becca calls my dad over. Dad carries me up the lawn, but as he’s taking me away, I sneak a glance back at Ender who’s being yelled at by Theo. Ender winks and mouths sorry to me. It’s the first time I’ve heard him say those words and feel like he means them.

His expression paralyzes me, because while he’s putting on a front, his eyes hold a sadness I’ve never seen on someone his age.

At the hospital, it’s confirmed I broke two bones in my ankle. They give me a hard splint halfway up my calf, and I’m back at the lake the next day, moping around because I can’t swim any longer. I can’t sneak onto the boat or chase Ender around after he steals my Pepsi. It’s depressing.

On the other hand, I have a good stock of pain pills.

The next day I’m sitting on Aunt Leslie’s dock, wishing I wasn’t wearing a cast. I have my right leg propped up by beach towels, my left one dangling in the water. Ender sits next to me, glaring at Walker every time he comes by on the Jet Ski and sprays water up at me and I complain about him getting my cast wet.

“What’s his problem?” I ask.

Ender hands me another strawberry Jolly Rancher, a peace offering for breaking my ankle. “Walker is a dick. He’s just that way.” He doesn’t offer any excuses for his cousin’s behavior. Taking my phone, he begins scrolling through my music. Nerves roll through me that he can see all my songs—like a glimpse into my secrets. Let’s hope he doesn’t read my journal, because he’d know all about him touching my boob the other day and how my nipples harden every time our bodies come in contact.

“What did you guys do last night after I left?” I ask, watching Arya on the other Jet Ski, trying to knock Walker off his.

Ender rolls his eyes, shaking his head in what I think is disappointment. “You mean after my dad yelled at me for breaking your ankle?”

“You didn’t break it,” I tell him, chuckling. “Okay, well, you did.”

“I did. And I’m sorry.”

I nod and pry a little more. “So what did you guys do?”Please don’t say you hung out with my sisters.

“There was a party up the lake.” His tone is off. Guarded maybe? Is he lying? “Went there. Hazel was there.”

I nod, not thinking much about it. Hazel is the good girl and way older than Ender. Also engaged to Chandler.

“I’m sorry about your ankle,” he says, not making eye contact. “I didn’t know it was hooked on the steps.” I look over at him. He’s still scrolling through my phone, and I notice he’s created a playlist for me in Spotify, and titled it Hads. On it’s a mix of Tim McGraw and The Marshall Tucker Band, all his favorites. I wonder if he’s added his phone number to my contacts yet.

“You should be sorry,” I tease. “It hurts really bad!” I hold my knee as if I’m in excruciating pain. “Reallybad.”

His shoulders sag and he nods to the mud next to the dock’s edge, his straw cowboy hat shielding his eyes. “Look over there.”

“At what?” I glance toward the lake to see that he’s pointing elsewhere.

“That dead bug.” It’s squished in the mud where the water slips up the wet grass.

“Yeah, so?”

“It’s my ego. You killed it.”

“It’s okay. You’re—” I’m about to say something else, maybe tease him a little, when I hear yelling coming from inside. “I’ll be right back.”

He helps me up, and I hobble my way toward the house. I walk in, the door slamming behind me when I hit it with my crutch. Inside, Hazel is sitting on the couch, crying, and Chandler’s across from her. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, Hads.” Hazel takes the sleeve of her gray sweater and wipes her tears from her cheeks. “Everything is fine.”

It’s a lie.

There isn’t much said by anyone, but I know—even at my age—something is wrong when I notice the hole in the wall. I slide my eyes to Hazel and the mascara running down her face.

Chandler sighs and clenches his fists. His knuckles are bloody, hands shaking, his head hanging in a mixture of anger and shame. In another outburst of anger, his legs kick out. “This is so fucking stupid,” he snaps, standing up.

Hazel glances up at me, warning with a glare to get lost. When I don’t listen, her head tips to the door, another reminder this is none of my business.

I make my way back out to the dock where Ender is still sitting, his white T-shirt clinging to his back with the gentle wind. I hand him a strawberry popsicle and my crutches, and then sit beside him.

He stares at the popsicle, a smirk on his beautiful pink lips I want to press mine to. “You brought me a popsicle?”

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