Their Broken Pieces by Jessica Gomez

Chapter Seventeen

Alex

 

 

It took me half the day to figure out Jasmine missed school. I overheard Andrew—that asshole—tell some of his friends she was sick. The stupid part of my brain is compelling me to ask her why she stood me up last night, but it’s only out of curiosity, not that I cared either way.

Who am I kidding? My phone never left my sight last night, waiting for it to ring. When midnight rolled around, I gave up, showered, and went to bed. I’ve been biting at the bit to find out why she didn’t bother to call. Turns out, she may have a good reason for not showing, but she’s never been the type of person to leave you hanging.

Fuck! I’m sounding more like a chick every day. Get your shit together, Navarro!

Lunchtime is as far as I make it before breaking down and calling her. Sitting sideways on my bike, I pull her number up and hit send. I blow out a deep breath, wondering why I’m so nervous about calling someone I’ve been friends with almost my entire life.

On the fourth ring, she answers.

“Hello.” Her voice is groggy.

“Jasmine?”

“Yeah.” She sounds terrible, but not in the way I expect a sick person to sound… she sounds like she’s in pain, reminding me of when I got jumped into the gang… she sounds like she got her ass kicked.

“I hear you’re sick,” I say, trying to hide the worry creeping up inside, latching onto an emotion I long since thought dead.

“Yeah, not feeling too well.” She doesn’t elaborate. The ominous sensation I’m getting only intensifies.

“Are you sure that’s all it is?” The question comes out without permission, but the fluttering of my insides warns that something’s off.

She pauses longer than she should. “I’m fine, really. I should feel better by tomorrow. You’re still coming to Hawaii, right?” She tries to sound excited, trying to convince me she’s fine, and changing the subject all at the same time.

“Yep,” I confirm. When she remains silent, I ask, “Are you sure?” My voice is soft, filled with concern. I can’t help it.

“Yeah, I’m good. I’m still tired, though, so I’m gonna let you go.”

“Is your mom home with you?” The question silences her.

“Why?” Her voice is small.

“So you have someone to check up on you.” Then I remember what kind of mom Margret is to Jasmine. That was a stupid question.

“No, she went out with some friends and won’t be back until late tomorrow morning. My dad’s nurse is here throughout the day, and she’ll get me anything I need.” There’s no confidence in her words.

“All right, I hope you feel better soon.” She disconnects without another word.

I pull the phone away and look at the screen. My gut is telling me that something’s not right. I’m tempted to rush to her house to check, but what would I do? Break the door down, storm inside, demand to know what’s going on.

Instead, I finish the rest of the school day and head home.

Mi madre left a note. She’s working a double shift again today. I hate her working so hard for so little. One of these days, I’ll get us out of here; make enough money to give her the life she deserves.

Scanning the fridge for leftovers, I find black beans and chicken. I fry up some tortillas and sit down to eat. Grabbing a tablet and pen, I jot down what I need to pack tonight for the trip. I have to admit, I’m getting excited, like a kid on Christmas.

I finish my food and go to my room to pack.

My mind drifts to Jasmine. Out of all days, she missed class today. She’s hounded me all week about getting this project in early, and today was the day to get it turned in before the trip. I would have turned it in for us, but she had all the samples of roots at her house. I’d forgotten all about it until seventh period, my mind being more distracted with why she was absent from school.

~~~~~

The next morning at school, I load my stuff on the number three bus and head into school. We were all assigned a bus number with the packets they sent us in the mail, making our departure easy and organized.

I’m earlier than usual as I walk through the hall with only a handful of other students. I pass biology class when my teacher, Mrs. Hubert, runs out to catch me. She’s in her late thirties but dresses as if she’s a sixties librarian. Her dark brown hair is always in a bun, and she wears those horned glasses to perfect her appearance.

“Alex!” she says excitedly. “I’m so glad I caught you before the assembly. I thought you and Jasmine were going to turn your assignment in before we left for the trip?”

“Yeah, we were. Jasmine came down with something and couldn’t make it to school yesterday. She had all the samples of plants we found at her house.” I gave her the same lame excuse Jasmine gave me, only it works on Mrs. Hubert.

“If you two can get your project in beforethe assembly begins, I promise it will pay off.” She winks at me. What is she saying? “Go. Go find Jasmine and bring me your work. You have fifteen minutes. Hustle!” She shoos me away with her hands. I laugh at the way she makes me rush off to find Jasmine, hustling without even realizing what I’m doing.

Finding Jasmine is harder than expected. Instead of looking, I call, which I should have done ten minutes ago. The phone rings a few times before she picks up.

“Alex… Hey,” she says, her voice sounding much better. Either that, or her acting skills are improving.

“Where are you?”

“I’m at my locker. Why? Where are you?”

“Stay there.” I hang up and head in her direction.

Less than thirty seconds later, I round the corner next to her locker. Her back is facing me, and she’s looking down the opposite hall. The first thing I notice is that she’s wearing her hair down. She normally wears it in a ponytail or some kind of up and out of her face hairdo. With it down, it shines. Staring at her like this, she’s breathtaking.

“Jasmine.” She jumps and spins around, a startled look on her face.

“Oh, you scared me.” She smiles, but there’s no warmth glittering in her blues, and the smile I see her give to everyone but me is plastered on her lips.

“I ran into Mrs. Hubert. She said that if we turn our project in before the assembly, we could still get credit for it. Do you have everything we need here?”

“Yes! This is so great! I thought I’d missed out because I was…” She glances at me, knowing I’ll see through her lie. “When I was sick.”

I study her, inspecting her from head to toe. She looks fine, nothing out of place. She is, however, wearing long sleeves and pants on the day we’re leaving for Hawaii.

“You feeling better?” I ask her, my voice thick with skepticism.

“I am.”

“Good. So do you want to go turn in our project before the assembly?”

“Of course I do.” She grabs the items from her locker.

We turn down the hall and catch Mrs. Hubert as she’s exiting her classroom.

“Mrs. Hubert!” Jasmine calls to her before she closes the door. “Sorry. It took Alex a little while to find me.”

“Oh, good, you made it.” She opens her classroom door again and walks to her desk. “All right, let’s see what you’ve got.” She holds her hand out for our paperwork.

We explain all the different plants we found, what uses they have, and how we could cook them. She inspected our samples, all labeled properly.

“We couldn’t agree on one recipe, so we made two,” Jasmine says.

We exchanged one look, and an entire conversation’s exchanged. She made an additional recipe because she wouldn’t take credit for mine without doing her part. After realizing I understood our silent communication, my breathing speeds, and my pulse hits hyper-drive.

What the hell is wrong with me?

“This is great! Simply wonderful. I give you both an A, plus the extra credit. Wonderful work.”

Jasmine and I glance at each other, a secret smirk playing on our lips. Why the hell is the teacher so thrilled about us turning in our project early?

“We better get to the assembly.” I point toward the door.

“Yes. I need to be there as well. Hurry along then.” She smiles and waits for us to leave.

We walk out of her room and down the hall. “That was weird,” I say, and before I finish the sentence, Jasmine nods her agreement.

“What do you think that was all about?”

“No idea. When I ran into her, she was all hyped about me finding you and turning in our project, and it had to be before the assembly, too. She was very specific about that part.”

“Weird,” she mumbles as she tucks her hair behind her ear.

That’s when I see it.

Her ear is swollen and very bruised. She catches me staring and realizes what she’s done. She quickly covers her ear again with her hair, but it’s too late; I’ve stopped moving. She tries to continue walking, but I corner her against the lockers, putting a hand on either side of her body. When her back hits the metal, she winces as if in pain.

“What happened to you?” I reach for the side of her face she and flinches, but doesn’t pull away. I trace my fingers lightly against her cheek, up her jaw to her ear, pulling the hair aside as I move.

“Nothing.” She speaks quickly, but quietly.

Her voice is so quiet I have to lean in close to hear her words.

Nothing, my ass.

Her ear looks like someone went all Mike Tyson on her, only without the bite mark. I step into her, our bodies almost pressed together. I’m pissed as hell that someone’s touched her, and because she’s not saying anything, protecting the hijo de puta who did this.

“Do not give me that shit, Jaz. Who’s doing this to you?”

Tears are welling in her eyes, but she blinks them away before they can fall.

“Nobody did anything. Just leave it alone, Alex.”

She pushes past me and heads for the gym, while I jog a few steps to catch up. “Come on Jaz, there is no way you can be mad at me for caring about what happens to you.”

She stops so abruptly I almost run into her. “No Alex, I’m not mad, but will you please just drop it?” The pleading look in her eyes melts my heart, and I want to give her anything she desires.

“All right, fine.” I hold my hands up in surrender. “I’ll let it go… for now.” She almost walks away when my next words stop her again. “But if you ever have another mark on you again, I’ll kill them. No matter who it is, I. WILL. KILL. THEM. Do you understand?” My voice is stern, commanding.

A small smile quirks the side of her lips before she says, “Deal,” then walks into the gym where the assembly has already begun.

We stand next to the bleachers where we entered, not wanting to draw attention by attempting to climb through everyone else. The principal is speaking, going over what he deems appropriate behavior on this trip and how he expects everyone to follow the rules. Right, as if that will happen.

Then Mrs. Hubert takes over the assembly. She laughs before saying, “Thank you all for coming this morning. Like any of you would pass up a chance in Hawaii, right?” Everyone laughs with her. “I’m here because there’s a twist we neglected to mention. We have rented an entire plane for our trip, which you all know, but we’ve been holding out on you, I’m afraid.” She pauses, drawing it out for dramatic effect. “We have seats available in first class for a few lucky students.” The crowd cheers. “There was a competition of sorts that has already ended. So, the people who will sit in first class will be everyone who turned in their biology projects before this assembly.”

There are cheers in small sections throughout the gym. Then it occurs to me that Jasmine and I both turned in our project before this assembly. We look over at each other and a slow smile spreads across both of our faces.