Breaking Her Bad by Michelle Mankin

 

 

 

 

 

Claire

“Are you sure you don’t want me to go with you to school?” my mother asked.

“Mom.” I scoffed. “I’m seventeen, remember?”

“I know how old you are.” She crossed her arms over her chest.

“Go back to bed,” I said, tilting my head at the closed bedroom door where hopefully Addy remained sleeping.

“I just want to be sure you’re going to be okay. It’s your first day at a new school.”

Mom shifted her weight from one bare foot to the other. She wore one of my dad’s old T-shirts to sleep in, which was too big for her. The responsibilities she had to shoulder in his absence were too big for her too.

“I’ll be okay.” I softened my tone. “I can get to school on my own.”

“I know you can, but you don’t have to.” Mom started to reach for me but dropped her arm when I took a step back.

“I’d better go.” Avoiding the sadness in her eyes like I avoided my own, I turned and grabbed my backpack. “I don’t want to be late.”

It wasn’t that I didn’t care about my mom or want her affection. The problem was if she hugged me, I might cry. It took all my energy to keep it together. Emotionally, I skated on a layer of dangerously thin ice. That ice was all that prevented me from plunging into despair.

“Okay, Claire.” Her brow furrowed, deepening a fine line between her eyes that first appeared after my dad died. She held up a finger. “Hold on a minute. I have something for you.”

She returned to the bedroom, disappearing inside the darkness for a moment. Her shadows she was familiar with and navigated alone. We both dealt with the shadows in our lives separately.

Waiting, I checked the time on my phone and adjusted the strap on my backpack.

When Mom reappeared, she said, “Hold out your wrist.”

I did, and a sob choked me up as she fastened the gold bracelet my dad had bought me around it.

“Where did you get this?” I dropped my arm to my side. The little sparrow charm was cold against my skin. Remembering how I’d given the bracelet to Kyle after our night together, I blinked away the hot tears that filled my eyes.

“I found it on the driveway.” Her blue eyes swam in sudden wetness that matched mine. “The night that . . .”

Pulling in a breath, she licked her lips and shook her head as if not speaking about my dad’s death might make him reappear. But we were both beyond the denial step. We had to be.

“I forgot about it until now,” she said softly, “but I thought you might want it today. That it might comfort you to wear it and feel like he’s nearby.”

“Thank you,” I whispered.

It did comfort me. Only it also reminded me of Kyle. I couldn’t process right now what it meant that he’d discarded it, thrown it aside as soon as he left me. The bracelet was a gift to remember me, to remember us. Apparently, he preferred not to.

“You’re welcome.” Her gaze drifted over me. “Are you sure you want to wear a bird T-shirt and those red boots on your first day?”

Numbly, I nodded.

I’d chosen my boots and tied Kyle’s hoodie around my waist because I’d been thinking about him and trying to channel that settled feeling I had with him. He thought I was beautiful. He’d rescued and protected me. With him, I was me the way I wanted to be.

But was that version of me even worth keeping if he’d thrown his remembrance of her away?

“You’ll stick out, honey. Do you want to be teased here like you were in Lakeside?” She pursed her lips. “Couldn’t you wear something a little more like everyone else?”

“I am who I am, Mom.” Stubbornly, I lifted my chin.

“I know, it’s just that . . .”

She glanced away, twisting her hands together. I noticed that her nails were trimmed short now because she didn’t just wait tables, she also washed dishes and scrubbed floors. Her once-manicured hands were red, and her skin was rough.

“Just that what?” I stiffened, anticipating her disapproval.

“Southside High isn’t like your private school, or it certainly wasn’t when I went there.” Her features hardened. “I know you want to be your own unique person. Your dad encouraged you to be, and I agreed with him while we were in Lakeside. Here, I don’t think that’s wise. You’ll probably get beat up.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“I know you think you can, honey. But the teachers here aren’t going to help you, and the students will harass you unless you have the protection of a faction.”

“What kind of faction?” I asked.

“Three main ones. Athletes who look after athletes. La Rasa Prima, who look after all in their family. And a group unaffiliated with those two that calls themselves losers, or they did in my day.”

“None of those are me.”

“I know they’re not, but you can try, Claire. Pretend to belong if you must. We do what’s necessary to get by, not what we want. I know you realize that things are different here. Dangerous, even.” She gave me a firm look. “It’s only one year until you graduate. If you keep up your grades, you can get a scholarship and leave all this behind.”

“I can’t think about this right now.” That lump of sadness inside my throat was choking me.

I turned away, feeling her gaze on me as I crossed the apartment. My mom’s disapproval felt heavier than my backpack on my shoulders.

Outside on the concrete landing, I spotted the yellow school bus turning onto our block. Scurrying down the stairs, I ran to meet it. I was out of breath when the bus slowed, its air brakes hissing. The door opened, and I clambered on. Luckily, I was the first one onboard. I took a seat in the front behind the driver.

“New?” she asked after glancing at me in her rearview mirror.

“Yes.” I nodded.

“Good luck.” Shaking her head, she cranked the handle to close the door.

Untying Kyle’s hoodie, I put my arms in the sleeves and zipped it up. Unlike Kyle, I’d kept his parting gift. I wanted to remember him. To me, our night together had been unforgettable.

I drew the collar to my nose. Moss, evergreen, and a hint of nicotine, it still smelled like him. Before I’d known about the bracelet, it would have comforted me to wear it. Now it made my stomach hurt.

The bus turned a sharp corner, shifting me in my seat. My eyes grew large as I noted a neighborhood more littered with trash than Addy’s. The buildings were covered in La Rasa Prima graffiti.

I hugged my backpack to my chest, keeping my gaze straight ahead as a group of teenage girls wearing navy La Rasa Prima colors boarded. They eyed me overly long, like I was their next meal.

Sinking down in my seat, I wished I’d heeded my mother’s advice.