Page 79 of Broken Pieces
I stare at the tiles.
One’s chipped, right at the edge of my shoe. I count the cracks. Try to think. Try to breathe, rack my brain for a plan that doesn’t end with me curled up sleeping behind a dumpster tonight.
“There you are,” Cassie says, all bright and grinning like the world isn’t falling apart. “Happy birthday, bitch. Where were you this morning?”
She slides into the seat beside me, all ease and habit, as if this were another day. Her arm slips through mine.
She doesn’t see the second bag. Not yet.
“We’re doing something tonight,” she says. “Pizza. Cake. A movie. You’re not saying no.”
Her smile is wide, waiting for the version of me she expects to show up.
But I’m not sure that girl still exists.
I shake her off. “Can’t.”
Cassie’s smile falters. Her eyes drop to the duffel at my feet.
“What’s that?”
“All my stuff.” My voice catches. “Dolores kicked me out.”
She blinks, the words not landing yet. “What?”
“She said I’m eighteen now. The government stops paying, so I have to go. Said she’s not running a charity.”
Cassie’s mouth opens, but nothing comes out. Her face looks as if she’s just been slapped.
Finally, she manages, “She can’t… she can’t do that.”
“She can.” I force my voice to steady. “And she did. It’s fine. I’ll figure something out.”
Cassie grabs my arm. “No, it’s not fine. Where are you gonna stay?”
“I said I’ll figure it out.” I yank my arm back, harder than I mean to.
“Sky, stop acting like this is normal—”
“It is normal.” The words come fast, sharp, too loud. “You think I haven’t seen this shit before? You think Dolores didn’t do the same thing to the last three kids? This is what she does. It’s my turn now.”
Cassie flinches, and I hate how much I notice it.
“I’m just trying to help.” Her voice drops, soft and breaking.
“I don’t need your help Cass. I’ve got to start doing things on my own now.”
And that’s the biggest lie I’ve ever told.
The bell rings but it barely cuts through. The sound’s there, but it feels far away, like it’s coming from underwater.
School’s over.
People move, scraping chairs, laughing too loud, but it all washes past me.
I couldn’t tell you what happened between first period and now if you put a gun to my head. I have no idea who sat next to me, no clue what assignments were due. It’s all a smear of voices and faces, static that crawls under my skin.
The only thing in my head all day has been where the fuck I’m going to sleep tonight. A weight sitting in my chest, as if I’m walking through someone else’s day while mine’s already over.
