Fractured (Unreel series Book 1)

by Sanna Wolf-Watz

  Mr. Jones stared at the wall of ideas and shook his head. This wasn’t working anymore. He was tired of doing the same things, the same way. The only things that ever changed these days were the faces. He rolled closer to the wall, silently wishing he could tear it down.

  His fingertips tapped out a rhythm on the armrests of his chair. He could tear it down of course, he owned it, but he wouldn’t. That was not how he did things. He had always remained supremely in control of his emotions. From the moment he woke up in the hospital and set to creating this…company, he supposed it could be called, til now.

  He wheeled himself closer to the wall to search through the plans and projections of his employees. Before it had been papers nailed to a board. These days they used a giant smart screen to track ideas. He supposed some things had changed after all. The screen had been way more expensive.

  “Mr. Jones?”

  He gave a start, but didn’t look over at the woman who had entered the room.

  “Is this what we’ve come up with in the last month, Ms. Hearning?” he asked instead.

  “Yes. We’re still working on some of the details with…”

  “It’s all bad.”

  “Yes,” she admitted. “But we can make it work.”

  “I don’t want us to make it work,” Mr. Jones said irritably, turning his chair around to glare at his blonde, bespectacled and usually brilliant CEO.

  She met his gaze without a flinch. It never failed to impress him, that calm and steady look behind her black framed glasses.

  ”You’d prefer we didn’t make it work?”

  “I want us to make it transcendent!”

  Ms. Hearning didn’t so much as blink. “We don’t have much room in the budget for transcendent.”

  “Well, make room.”

  “We do not have the resources. This business is not what it was ten years ago. It’s not even what it was five years ago. We’re on a slippery slope and cannot afford spending money on…”

  Mr. Jones snorted disapprovingly. “This is why we keep having financial crises, you know. You and all the other math nerds out there are too focused on short term financial statements to consider the long term possibilities.”

  “I believe my focus on financial statements is why you hired me, sir.”

  “No, I hired you because you are smart, efficient and you don’t waste my time with inanities,” Mr. Jones corrected her. “You’re intelligent enough to see that we can’t minimize our spending out of this slump. We need to forge ahead and make it big. You can’t stand on the breaks to make your way uphill.”

  Ms. Hearning raised a delicate eyebrow. “You want us to go full-speed? In this economic climate?”

  “I reckon I used an appropriate analogy for the situation we are in.”

  “Fine. You want us to floor it up a mountain? That’s rather difficult since we’re, to keep with your analogy, sitting in an old car, with flat tires and no gas.”

  “We could blow up the mountain,” Mr Jones suggested.

  “And how would we do that?”

  Mr. Jones shrugged and pushed himself to the door.“That’s your problem. You’re responsible for running this company. To do that you'll need to come up with better ideas than that,” he said, pointing to the screen. “Or we’re all going down. Don't worry, I'll help.”

  He took himself out of the office without looking back at Ms. Hearning who continued to stare at the screen for another couple of minutes. Then she pulled out her phone.

  “Mark. I’m looking at the wall. Yeah. We need to talk. Mr Jones offered to help. Exactly. Call for a meeting. I don’t care how! This is a crisis.”

  The day dragged on. Thomas felt weirdly uncomfortable walking the crowded corridors now. He was surrounded by people who were all laughing and talking. That used to be a good thing, but now it made him want to punch a hole through the wall. Had they always been so loud?

  He could feel a headache coming on and rubbed at his temples, trying to find the cool that for some reason kept evading him. His blood was still seething with rage at the thought of her.

  He frowned. He was a disciplined and mature person. He never got angry. Sure, when he was younger he had thrown tantrums, as all kids do, but he had long ago learned to control those outbursts. Like his father always said: a display of emotion, any emotion, was a sign of immaturity. Gaining control over oneself was part of growing up.

  Jock was making funny remarks about the people they passed, but Thomas wasn’t paying attention. He couldn’t even make himself pretend to laugh. After a while Jock, who was normally less sensitive to other people’s emotions than a rock, noticed.

  “Dude, what’s up with you?”

  It was just the two of them now. The rest of the guys had dropped off along the way to attend classes. Thomas hadn’t even noticed them go.

  “Nothing,” he said curtly.

  “Yes, there is. You’re being weird. This something to do with that chick?” Jock asked and tried to catch his eye, but Thomas was staring intently up the ceiling. He had never before noticed how ugly it was.

  “Well is it?” Jock asked again.

  Thomas frowned. Jock was being uncharacteristically perceptive today. “What is it to you?”

  Jock shrugged and hi-fived a senior in the football team passing them. “You’re usually more fun to be around.”

  “I don’t see why this new girl is all everyone is talking about! She’s rude and annoying. Polar bears! Like we’re all a bunch of dumb hillbillies who’d believe anything coming out of her mouth.”

  “I thought that part about the polar bears was pretty cool.”

  “It was absolute fiction!” Thomas protested and held out his phone. “Here, I looked it up. They have wolves, brown bears and lynx. No polar bears. And the animal that kills the most people in Sweden is the tick!”

  Jock put a steadying hand on Thomas shoulder.

  “Okay, easy there. Breathe. So the girl exaggerated a little, can’t fault someone for adding a little flavor. I don’t know why you’re so hung up on her. I thought Rachel was the girl on your mind?” he said, winking.

  Thomas did a mental double take. He had temporarily forgotten about running into Rachel this morning as well as sitting with her at lunch.

  “Yeah, well, obviously she’s great...”

  “But you’ve been obsessing about the crazy, hot, foreign girl the whole day.”

  Thomas could see where this was going and he much resented the implication.

  “No. I mean, yes, since she pissed me off and is an ongoing pain in the ass. It’s not because I want to think about her. I just can’t help...” he stopped himself.

  An outright grin was spreading over Jock’s face. Thomas punched his friend hard in the chest.

  “I don’t get why you’re so into Rachel anyway,” Jock said, rubbing at his chest.

  ”Why wouldn’t I be?”

  ”She's been toying with you since forever. And I thought you guys finally broke up before the holidays.”

  “It was not a breakup, it was a break, a temporary break. And she's not 'toying' with me. She's … she changes her mind sometimes. There’s nothing wrong with that,” Thomas said.

  ”Of course not. If you want to date the least decisive girl in the history of time then that's fine. That makes perfect sense”, Jock said sarcastically.

  “Shut up.”

  “As to why you’re thinking non-stop of this other girl whom you claim to hate...” Jock said, taking hold of Thomas’ shoulders and looking him solemnly in the eyes. The grin had disappeared, but Thomas wasn’t fooled. Jock’s brown eyes still glimmered mischievously. “...well, you know they say love and hate are different sides of the same…”

  “I don’t hate her. I just don’t get why the rest of you are in such a state over her.”

  “She’s new and she seems fun. She’s already managed to get under your skin, which has to be a first, Iceman.”

  “You should stay away from her.”
<
br />   “No can do. I’m driving her home today,” Jock said proudly.

  “What? Why?”

  “So that I can convince her to go out with me instead of Wayne on Friday,” Jock replied with a wink.

  “That makes zero sense.”

  “It makes zero sense that I want to date a pretty girl? You know what, Jefferson, I believe you’re in denial about this girl. You’re repressing your deepest, darkest…”

  “Goodbye Freud, I’m off to the library. Go find someone else to psychoanalyze”, Thomas said and broke free from Jock. He quickly headed into the school library knowing, without a doubt, that nothing would compel Jock to follow him in there.

  He was right. As soon as the door closed behind him he was alone. Finally. The library was calm and quiet as usual. Exactly what he needed. He moved between the shelves to find something to read that would be interesting enough to take his mind off her. No, not off her. Just off… things in general.

  Hidden behind the shelves he browsed the titles and covers. It looked like the library had been given the grants to invest in some new books. He smiled as caught sight of the new Robin Hobb book in a shelf half a meter away. Finally something was going his way! He had been looking forward to reading that book for ages, but it was always on loan and he kept forgetting to reserve it.

  He reached out to grab it just as a smaller one snatched it from the shelf right before his eyes. The anger that he had managed to get under wraps surged back up again. For heaven’s sake!

  His gaze followed the hand to the arm, shoulder, neck and face of a girl he recognized only too well. She hadn’t noticed him and was already engrossed in reading the back of the cover.

  Her hair looked red in the fluorescence light of the library as she distractedly tucked a strand of it behind her ear. Her constant scowl was gone, replaced with a look of curiosity.

  He waited for her to notice him, but she didn’t look up. Instead she flipped the book open and began reading. He cleared his throat. She didn’t react. Typical.

  “Excuse me?”

  He had startled her, he realized when it took a few moments for her gaze to focus on him and for her expression change from excited curiosity to disdain.

  “Football boy. What do you want?”

  The way she looked at him and her mocking tone made Thomas grind his teeth, but he was still convinced that they could deal with this situation in a civil way. He, for one, was determined that they try.

  “I’m sorry, but I’ve been waiting for that book for six months,” he said with as much calm as he could muster.

  “Have you?” she said as though she couldn’t care less. She probably couldn’t at that. Out of all the rude… he stopped himself and tried to smile. She took a step back.

  “Yes. And I was wondering,” he forced his jaw muscles to relax. “If I could have it. The book. Please,” he added as an afterthought, his lips pressed so tightly together they could barely shape the words.

  She considered it for a moment, but shook her head. “Why would I give you anything?”

  Good point. Because she had been ruining his whole day?

  “Because I’m asking you nicely,” he tried.

  “Instead of prying it from my cold, dead hands, you mean?”

  “Please,” he said again.

  “No.”

  “Why not?” he snapped.

  “Because I’ve wanted to read this book for a long time too and I don’t like you,” she told him and turned to leave.

  “Hey!” he shouted and grabbed hold of her arm. That stopped her, but, needless to say, did not do anything to further advance his cause.

  “Let me go!” she hissed and smacked his hand with the book.

  “I asked you nicely!”

  He knew that he was repeating himself, but he couldn’t think of anything else to say. Holding on to her arm seemed like the only reasonable thing for him to do.

  “Yeah, now that there’s something I have that you want, you have the decency to ask nicely. I guess I should be, what’s the word, flattered? The answer is still no. Now, Let Me Go!”

  She pulled herself free of him and walked away Right before she reached the counter she turned to glare at him over her shoulder.

  “And tell your friends to back off. It’s not funny anymore.”

  She smiled at the librarian, checked out the book and exited the library, head held high. Thomas was left standing with no book, no idea of what had happened and, more importantly, not the slightest notion of what he was going to do next.

  Stalling, he ran his hand through his hair a few times. He looked around and realized that everyone who had been studying quietly at the desks beside the shelves to his left were now staring at him. He stared back at them defiantly.

  “What?” he snarled.

  They all went back to their books.

  Thomas ran his hand through his a hair a few more times before picking up some other random book, that to his great horror turned out to be a vampire novel.

  He walked over to the counter as slowly and coolly as he could. When he left the library he was holding on to the book so hard his knuckles were turning white.

  5

  House Call

  Sofia tore open the door and stomped into the house. It wasn’t home yet and as she took in the large, white wooden construction with its frilly windows she wasn’t sure that it ever would be. It was pretty enough, she supposed, but nothing like what they’d left behind when they moved.

  The thing that surrounded their new house didn’t deserve to be called a garden either. It mainly consisted of a large lawn with a few miserable apple trees thrown in as an afterthought. Compared to the veritable jungle of roses and fruit trees they’d had before, it was as uninspiring as a parking lot.

  She kicked off her shoes and cast another glance over her shoulder at the plain grass. She’d loved their old garden. Had loved their old house as well, with its sprawling rooms and narrow corners with spiders hiding in plain sight. She had loved every part of her old life and her old friends and now she missed it.

  Angrily she slammed the door behind her and took another step into the foyer. If they at least could have moved to a place that resembled a city, like Lawrence where her mother worked, so that she’d have things to do she might have felt differently about it.

  She had told her parents this, but they had been determined to live in the countryside. They wanted to hear the birds sing and breathe fresh air. They also believed this garden had potential. Showed how little they knew.

  She stomped through the hall and rested against the opposite wall for a moment. At least she hadn’t needed to take the school bus home. That was the one good thing about Thomas’s friends stalking her.

  Jock had been waiting outside her final class, grabbed her bag and used his long legs to keep several feet ahead of her as he marched her to his car. He’d put her bag in the trunk and told her that she wasn’t getting it back until he dropped her off.

  She had considered objecting, but then she’d caught sight of the crowd heading for the school bus and thought better of it. She’d spent most of the journey to her house glaring at him, while he told her about the things they passed and laughed at her.

  He must get a kick out of riling her up, because he didn’t seem the least offended by her giving him the silent treatment. When he’d dropped her off outside her house, he’d given her her bag back and kissed her on the cheek before telling her that he was picking her up tomorrow.

  Sofia rubbed at her cheek. She wasn’t sure what to make of his sudden interest and was deeply suspicious of his motives. Was calling someone’s friend an idiot considered flirting here? And what was up with this kidnap-style attempt at dating? Jock hadn’t hit her over the head and dragged her off by the hair, but it wasn’t far off. Caveman methods disguised as chivalry and topped with a charming smile.

  She pushed away from the wall. Thinking about it pissed her off. She’d have to get a scooter or something and solve the
problem. She wished she could convince her parents to give her a car. People were allowed to get their driver’s license at seventeen here.

  Denise had a driver’s license and she wasn’t more than a couple of months older than her. She’d offered to take her home, but Denise had basketball tryouts, a student committee meeting and drama club after school and Sofia hadn’t liked the idea of waiting around for her. Besides, Jock had been lying in wait outside the classroom so it wouldn’t have mattered anyway.

  Sofia walked from the hallway towards the large kitchen, dropping her bag beside the white birch staircase on her way. As she moved into the kitchen she frowned at the vast, empty space. When would they at least get a table?

  She poured herself some orange juice from the pitcher in the fridge. Leaning against the sink, she enjoyed the cold, sweet taste of it. That, at least, was something good about this place; the juice tasted amazing.

  She tried to find a comfortable position. They hadn’t shipped any furniture from their old place. It would have cost too much and, besides, her mother wanted this to be a “fresh start” and with fresh she included the house and all the things in it.

  Too bad she had insisted on dragging her old, dreary daughter with her, Sofia thought bitterly before chugging the rest of the juice and refilling her glass.

  “Hello, darling! You’re home early.”

  Sofia looked up from her glass as her mother entered the kitchen. She was dressed in her jogging suit, not so often worn for jogging as for rest and relaxation indoors. She must have been arranging the curtains. That was the only logical explanation for why she was entangled in a measuring-tape and a demolished curtain rod.

  She looked happy though. Well, she should. This new job was a dream come true for her. She had been obsessed with genetically modified veggies for a long time and although Sweden was on the cutting edge within many fields of science, GMOs wasn’t one of them.

  Carina Hansson’s face fell as she caught sight of her daughter’s expression.

  “What happened?”

  Sofia shook her head and gulped down some more juice.