Their Broken Pieces by Jessica Gomez
Chapter Twenty-Two
Jasmine
Andrew asks me to lunch around nine in the morning. I’m still lying in bed after being kept up last night, listening to Molly sweet-talk some guy on the phone, when I received his text. Andrew may be easy on the eyes, but extremely irritating most of the time. He’s showing his true colors by being overbearing, and it is so obvious what his agenda is with me. Little does he know that will never happen.
Our lunch ended in disaster. I’m not even close to enjoying myself with him, but I play the game and keep a smile on my face. Andrew is annoyingly kissing me, touching me whenever the urge strikes him, and I hate it.
And I thought I could withstand a year of this? That’s not even close to possible.
Every time he tries to kiss me, it feels… I don’t know, creepy, slimy. The accurate description eludes me, the emotion hard to describe.
During lunch, Andrew excuses himself to use the restroom, giving me time to think. Alex invades my mind every second. He texted me around eleven-thirty, asking what I was doing for lunch. My fingers itched to text him back, to tell him I’d meet him somewhere, but I already agreed to go with Andrew. Instead of answering, I leave him unread.
I’ve also thought a lot of Jace since getting here. If he were still alive, he’d be here, and I wouldn’t have to find someone to enjoy this amazing trip with. Hawaii’s supposed to be a blast, so why am I so miserable?
I know the answer. I’ve just been trying to avoid it. Margret could talk to any of my classmates, and they would tell her whatever she wants to know, thinking it would be fine because, after all, she is my mom. At this point, I wouldn’t put it past her to seek some of them out. She could already have someone watching me now for all I know.
We’re almost finished with lunch when I notice Alex at the bar, looking at his untouched food in front of him, while smiling as he talks on the phone. He’s probably already found a harem of girls to choose from during his stay here. He’s probably on the phone with one right now, and that thought ignites so much jealousy inside of me, making me want to throw my glass of ice water at him to get him off the phone.
“Let’s go,” I tell Andrew when he comes back.
“You don’t want to eat your food?”
“No. Not hungry.” I wave it off and stand to leave.
“Where do you want to go?”
“Let’s walk downtown and see what they have going on. I hear they have all kinds of things for a tourist to do.”
“All right.” He leads me out of the hotel toward the center of town, which is only a couple of blocks from us.
There are entertainers spread out along the street. Some are doing tricks, others making music, or dancing Hawaiian dances. The entire place is euphoric. From the people to the smell of the ocean—everything about it is gorgeous. It’s hard to keep a smile from my face, so I let myself relax.
Andrew takes my hand as we enter a bathing suit store called Skins. The name’s rather funny.
I brought enough money to have fun. I plan to do what I want, buy what I want, and I need and want a new suit.
“Do I get to see you model them?” Andrew raises his eyebrows up and down at me.
The gesture is cute, making me laugh. If cuts and bruises didn’t adorn my body, I would have said yes.
“Sorry, no freebies,” I say, trying to sound seductive.
“Do you know what you’re looking for? Or are we going to pick out a montage of outfits?” His smile widens.
“I have no idea. My favorite color’s green, so maybe something in that color.” I shrug and finish walking through the door.
There are about a dozen people already in the small space and finding a suit is proving harder than I thought. Andrew has three already hanging over his arm. I want to pick out a few and try them all on at the same time.
The store has a friendly atmosphere. Bamboo covers the walls, with real plants and flowers decorating the room. Incense is lit somewhere in the store, filling it with a sweet fragrance. They even have these funky, spiral racks that hold different styles of swimsuits.
By the time I find five suits, the store has cleared out, all except a handful of girls around our age at the dressing room. Andrew hands me the suits and tries casually to check out the girls next to us. They’re trying on swimsuits, speaking half Spanish, half English. Marisol used to talk like that sometimes when she was excited. By the way these girls are laughing and squealing, they’re excited. I can see that Andrew appreciates it, since the girls are bouncing and jiggling in all the right places.
The dressing room is a makeshift room with three walls, and a dark green curtain that barely reaches either edge of the door. I pull it as tight as it will go before changing.
The first suit I tried on is black. It makes my butt look nice, but the top squishes my chest down too tight, giving me pancake boobs.
I describe it to Andrew and he laughs.
I put the second suit on, a sky blue two-piece. Andrew whistles at me when I describe it to him, which causes me to blush.
The other girls are right next to us and are gorgeous. All three are tall, tan, with legs that go on for days. I know they’re hot because Andrew’s having a hard time keeping his eyes off them. I wouldn’t consider myself all that great looking. I have scars as recent as last week on my arms and old ones from surgeries. My leg scar, where my bone protruded out, is probably the worst. Fortunately for me, the doctors could stitch me back together fairly well, leaving minimal scarring.
The third suite is a light purple. Both this one and the blue one wash out my skin, making me look even paler than I am, which I thought was impossible to accomplish. I try on the fourth one, which has a red and black swirling design, reminding me of the carpet in our hotel room. Not appealing.
I turn to look in the mirror but get distracted when I hear Alex’s name from the exotic girl next to us. I peek through the slit in my curtain, and she’s looking in a mirror like mine, wearing a barely there two-piece. The top covers her nipples, maybe an inch beyond that, and the bottoms cut high, hugging her butt. I’m envious. There’s no way that I could look that good in something like that.
I laugh to myself. Why would she be talking about my Alex? I’m being paranoid, and it’s showing how crazy I am, freaking out about someone saying a name.
As I continue looking in the mirror, pretending not to listen to their conversation, I hear her say school trip, and my stomach drops. Was she talking about Alex?
I change into the last suit; it too looks ridiculous, and I refuse to tell Andrew about it. His protests are non-existent since he’s eye screwing the girls next to us. I change back into my clothes and sit on the bench, collecting the suits slowly, and listening to the other girls talk.
The more I listen to their conversation, the more I realize that yes, they are talking about my Alex.
“I can’t believe you called him boyfriend on the phone, Ang.” Pretty girl number three says.
Ang must be pretty girl number one because she answers. “Well, I figured I’d go for it after the night we had last night.” All the girls giggle.
“You are so bad.” Pretty girl number two chimes in.
“If you want to keep someone like Alex pleased, you need to be a little naughty. Besides, it’s not like I don’t do it all the time, anyway.” I can hear the smile in her voice. I’m convinced now that Alex had sex with this girl last night.
A lump forms in my throat and tears sting my eyes. I take a deep breath and get myself under control. What’s wrong with me? Why do I even care? I can’t have him, and why the hell would he want someone like me when he gets gorgeous girls like Ang?
“What’s going to happen tonight?” number three asks.
“We’re going to finish where we left off. I’m bringing a blanket, this suit, and a few condoms. Hopefully, we’ll be out all night.” Her response receives more giggles, and even a few oh’s. “What about you and Carlos? You two were hot and heavy.” She asks number two.
“Yeah, he’s so hot. He said he had to leave when Alex did because he’s the leader.” The tone of her voice sounds as if she’s in awe of them.
That’s when I’m positive she’s talking about Alex Navarro. Who else is a leader in a gang and has a friend named Carlos, who is also here on a school trip?
I gather my strength. I shouldn’t care that Alex is hooking up with girls. That’s what he does. At least that’s what they say at school, anyway. A part of me feels rejected, hoping that his emotions were playing the same tune as mine. Apparently, I was wrong, but I can’t say I’m innocent either. I mean, I am messing around with Andrew, right?
I step out of the curtain and Andrew is practically drooling. You’d think I’d care or be jealous, but I don’t have it in me for him. I couldn’t care less if Andrew’s checking them out.
Returning the suits to their racks, I decided against all of them. Each one seemed to do funny things to my skin tone. I stop in the middle of the store and let my body sag. I want a new suit. I feel like I’m on a quest for a fresh start, beginning with the perfect bathing suit. My mission makes no sense, since bruises cover my body, making it impossible to wear, but I need to start somewhere.
Most of the buckle wounds have scabbed up; gross. Thank goodness they’re small or they would have lasted longer. The bruises will remain for most of the week, if not longer. They’re going to be impossible to hide.
I’m just about to walk out of the store and leave Andrew ogling the other girls when I see it. Instantly, I know I have to have it. The perfect suit.
I walk up to the green and white tie-dye suit and find there’s only one left…. in my size. God, I love it when that happens, because it rarely ever does.
I use another dressing room on the other side of the store, away from Andrew. After I put the suit on, I turn to look in the mirror. It fits perfectly and is snug in all the right places, and a little risky. I’ve worn nothing like this, but as I’ve been saying, how many times am I going to be in Hawaii?
The bottoms are low cut, snuggling below my hipbones. There’s a large two-inch fold, creating the illusion of a waistband. On the left-hand side, a silver ring holds the bottoms together.
The top is the same mix of green and white tie-dye. The cups spread wide, showing off a lot of inner bust set in a halter. Silver rings hold the top of both cups, making my breasts look fantastic. They’ve never looked this big and perky. This is the one. Not being able to help myself, I think of what Alex would think of me in it.
I turn slowly, not only looking at the way the suit looks but at all the discolored areas still littering my body. Margret did a number on me. Without the discolored areas, I’d have a nice body. I was husky before the accident, not fat, but muscular. Now, most of the muscles have vanished. I’ve gained ten pounds since I started my eat everything diet, filling out my body, and hiding all the bones that used to protrude after the accident. Now smooth, curvy skin stands before me. I have to admit, I look great, other than the bruises.
I poke my fingers against the bluish-green bruise on my rib cage and wince. They’re still pretty sore and hurt when I breathe in deeply.
Realistically, I’m getting ahead of myself by buying this suit, but as I stare at it, I know I have to have it. I can wear shorts and a shirt over it to hide the bruises. That should work fine, as long as I swim in them. On the other hand, if we swim in the dark, no one will notice anyway.
The register dings when the woman takes my cash. I’m halfway out the door when Andrew catches up to me.
“Let’s see what you got,” he says, as if he didn’t just spend half our time in the store looking at other girls.
I give him a look that says just that.
“Don’t get jealous, Jasmine. I’m here with you, right?” Does that line actually work on other girls?
“Right,” I say, then continue to walk back to the hotel.
“You’re still going to go out with me tonight, right?” His voice is pleading, but it holds an edge of desperation.
I think about it for a minute and then remember the dreamy girl at Skins… and Alex. The whole thing makes me sick to my stomach. “Why yes, Andrew, I wouldn’t miss it,” I say.
Andrew walks me to my room when we reach the hotel. “I’ll be back to get you at six.” He leans in and kisses me, sloppy and gross, so I step away and walk inside my room.
“See you at six.” I dismiss him, not wanting to kiss anymore.