Page 12 of Broken Secrets
“Whatever you decide to do about Jeremy, whether you reach out or not, you’re not alone in this, okay?”
“Thank you, that means a lot.”
I barely sleep. Each time I close my eyes, I’m back at Derek’s house, replaying the moment he brushed my hair behind my ear, the way he said my name like it meant something important. But mostly I think about Emma’s face in that family photo, about the fact that somewhere in Michigan, there’s a girl who shares my DNA and has everything I’ve always wanted to know about myself.
At three a.m., I give up on sleeping and grab my laptop, pulling up the Kline Electric website again. I study every pixel of the family photo until I could recreate it from memory. Emma has Jeremy’s eyes, but everything else about her screams Lilly. The blond hair, the delicate features, the way she holds her head slightly tilted like she’s posing for a magazine.
She’s beautiful. Confident. Loved. Everything I’ve pretended to be but never quite felt like I was.
By the time my alarm goes off at six-thirty, I’ve memorized every word on Jeremy’s website. My eyes feel gritty and swollen, and there’s a headache building behind my temples.
Downstairs, Mom’s dressed for work, her portfolio bag slung over her shoulder. She’s wearing the blue blouse that brings out her eyes, and her hair is perfectly styled.
“Morning, sweetheart,” she says, not glancing up from her phone. “I’m running late, but there’s cereal in the cabinet and orange juice in the fridge.”
“Thanks.” I pour myself a bowl of generic cornflakes and add milk. The cereal tastes like cardboard, but my stomach needs something.
“Oh, and I dropped off your permission slip for the Catalina trip yesterday,” she says, finally glancing up. “You’re all set.”
“Thanks,”
She gives me a quick kiss on the forehead, the same way she has every morning since I was little, and heads for the garage. “Have a good day at school. Love you.”
“Love you too.”
My mind churns through everything that happened yesterday.
At exactly seven-thirty, Derek’s car pulls into our driveway. I grab my backpack and head outside, grateful to have something normal to focus on.
“Morning,” he says as I slide into the passenger seat. “How’d you sleep?”
“Terribly. You?”
“Same. I kept thinking about everything we talked about yesterday.” He glances over at me as we pull out of the driveway. “Any decisions about what you want to do?”
“Not yet. But thank you for yesterday. For listening and not trying to fix everything.”
“That’s what friends are for.”
Friends. The word should make me happy, but instead it sits oddly in my stomach. Is that what we are?Just friends?
We’re quiet for most of the drive to school, but it’s comfortable. Derek has the radio on low, playing some indie song I don’t recognize, and the morning sun filters through the windows in a way that makes everything feel golden and possible.
“Derek?” I say as we pull into the school parking lot.
“Yeah?”
“When you said last night that you wanted to ask someone to winter formal but haven’t worked up the courage yet…” I pause, my heart pounding. “Who were you talking about?”
He turns off the engine and looks at me, and for a moment I think he’s going to deflect or make a joke. But then his expression gets serious.
“You,” he says quietly. “I was talking about you.”
The words hang in the air between us, and I feel my cheeks flush. “Oh.”
“I know you’ve got a lot going on right now with the family stuff and the heart thing. I didn’t want to make things more complicated.”
“You wouldn’t be making things complicated,” I say quickly. “I mean, yes, my life is a mess right now, but that doesn’t mean…”
