Page 65 of Broken Pieces
We start walking, dodging groups of boys yelling about some game, pass girls reapplying lip gloss in mirrors, teachers barking about passes. Everything is too loud. Too close.
My eyes dart to the far doors again, but he’s not there.
Cassie stops in front of the drinking fountain, pressing the button and taking a sip, before she squints up at me.
“Okay, what’s with the murder face?”
“I don’t have a murder face.”
“You do. Your eye’s twitching. Pretty sure you scared that scrawny kid into dropping his juice box out of fear.”
“For fuck’s sake, Cassie, I’m fine.”
She plants herself in front of me, arms crossed, that trademark Cassie death-glare locked and loaded.
“Girl, you just lied to my face. NASA’s probably tracking your bullshit from space.”
I almost crack, but I hold it in. Barely.
“You wanna tell me, or should I start guessing?” She doesn’t wait. “Okay, first guess—you finally snapped and buried Dolores in the backyard.”
My lip twitches.
“Second—you found your birth certificate and your real name’s... wait for it… Dorcas Moonshine.”
That gets a snort out of me.
“Three: you joined a TikTok cult that drinks neon sludge, sobs to sad-girl edits, and thinks burning sage cures childhood trauma.”
I choke on a laugh. “You’re such a dick.”
She smirks victoriously. “There she is. I fucking told myself you hadn’t disappeared.” She hooks her arm through mine. “Let’s go, Dorcas Moonshine. We’re skipping class.”
“Cass.”
“Don’t Cass me. I’m being a supportive friend. Against my better judgment.”
“Where are we going?”
“Somewhere sacred.”
She pushes open the side door, and we head down the back path behind the cafeteria.
A guy I don’t recognize is leaning against the wall, hoodie up, cigarette in hand.
He spots us and smirks. “Yo, Skylar. Wanna ditch your babysitter and come sit on my face?”
I don’t even blink. “How about you go fuck yourself? Should be easy. You’ve had enough practice.”
He coughs on his smoke.
Cassie bursts out laughing beside me. “Jesus, warn me next time you go full castration with words.”
She pulls my arm and drags me off the path.
“Where are we going now?” I mutter, heels skidding in the gravel.
“To the sacred wall of bad decisions and emotional breakthroughs,” she says, yanking me down the hill behind the gym.
