Unwrap My Heart

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Unwrap My Heart Page 2

by Heather Dowell


  My eyes water from the strain on my body and lack of oxygen. Gasping for air, I shake my head to rid the image of him using Izzy.

  Percy pats my back. “You all right?”

  No, I’m not all right.

  I told when my mother was abusing Milo and me. I told when our first foster parents beat us then locked us in our rooms with little to eat. I always told.

  I thought I’d be safe. But nowhere is safe. Nowhere for a girl like me. And telling takes me nowhere but backward.

  Sliding from my chair, I reach for my glass. “Yeah, yeah, I just need more eggnog.”

  “Chocolate milk,” Milo says, handing me his sippy cup.

  I force a smile. I do it for him, so we can stay together. And I do it for Izzy, so she doesn’t have to.

  “Okay, bubba, but just a little.”

  He tilts his chin up and grins so big I could count his tiny teeth.

  “We got you something,” Beth says.

  “Oh, yeah?” I say, stirring Milo’s milk. “I thought my gift was y’all not kicking me out.”

  Technically, I could stay in the system until I’m twenty-one, but I didn’t go through the process. If this home fell through, I wanted to age out and stay local, maybe move in with Sebastian and work my butt off to graduate and save for an apartment. The plan is to eventually adopt Milo, but living with the Schneider’s keeps me with Milo and Izzy until I’m financially independent.

  “We’d never do that,” Percy says. “You’re our girl.”

  I’m your sex slave. Poor Beth doesn’t have a clue she’s married to a monster.

  “He’s right.” Beth takes our plates to the sink. “You can stay until you’ve got a dorm room at least. We’d be criminals to put you on the street. Indiana winter might not be the coldest, but there will be snow.”

  I shrug. “It happens. Kids get kicked out as soon as the checks stop coming.”

  “Maybe,” she says, “but we do this for love, not money.”

  I hug her. “I’m glad I’ve got you.” Even if it means living with Percy.

  I wish she’d see the perverted side of her husband.

  “Hey,” Izzy says.

  I hug her, too. Before I let go, Percy joins. One of his hands grabs a little side boob. I break away. “I need a new bra.” One with spikes to cut his fingers.

  “That’s what we got you,” Beth says, leaving the room and coming back with a gift bag covered in orange and pink balloons. “Percy says you’re a woman now and need nice undergarments, so we went to Victoria’s Secret and got you some.”

  “You went into a Victoria’s Secret with him?” My stomach lurches, picturing him touching fabric I’ll have to wear if I don’t want to insult Beth.

  “Don’t be bashful,” Beth says. “He does your laundry.”

  I’m sure he sniffs my dirty clothes, too. Ugh, this is my birthday, and all I can do is think about his disgusting habits.

  “Thanks.” I put my glass in the sink. “Beth, do you think you could drop me off at Sebastian’s in a bit?”

  “You can ride with us,” Izzy says. “Percy’s dropping me off at my friend’s house. Her sister’s taking us to the Jingle Jam tonight, so I might see you and Sebastian and his super-hot friend.”

  Great, now I have to subject myself to Percy’s perversions and make sure I get dropped off last so he doesn’t fool with her. If he has been, I don’t know what I’ll do.

  “Super-hot friend as in...Zain?”

  “I knew you had the hots for him.” She dabs.

  Who wouldn’t? Floppy, dirty-blond hair, six-one, point guard, gray eyes I could melt into.

  I shake my head. “We’re just friends.”

  “That’s not what it sounds like when you talk in your sleep.”

  I clamp her mouth shut.

  “A love triangle,” Percy says.

  “She has a wild imagination.” I let her go, and I walk toward my room. I need to sneak my birthday gift to myself into the bathroom while everyone is distracted.

  “Oh, Zain,” Izzy says, “what nice abs you have.”

  My hair slaps my face as I whip around. “I do not sound like that.” But boy does he have a stomach I’d love to rub.

  She wiggles her brows.

  My defensiveness has convicted me of having sex dreams about Zain Abner. I’m kind of guilty, but I would never admit it.

  “Whatever,” she says as I slip out of sight.

  Zain was the first guy I met at Merryville High. We were both wearing shirts that said Oh, Fudge! from A Christmas Story, our mutual favorite movie. A look was shared and sparks were felt, but they died as soon as his evil girlfriend wrapped her arms around him and shoved her tongue down his throat—right in front of me—and he didn’t pull away.

  Zain and I became friends anyway, then Sebastian took interest in me. Sebastian isn’t as tall, nor does he have mesmerizing gray eyes that look silver in direct light, but he’s sweet. Maybe a little clueless and bullheaded at times, but he checks in on me and carries my books to class.

  We don’t partake in publicly shoving tongues down each other’s throats. And even though I’ve made it clear I’d like to have sex, he wants to wait. He’s not gay, he’s just...Sebastian. He likes to savor me. Says if I give him too much at once, he’ll lose interest. Words of a reformed player.

  I respect his convictions, but I wish we’d get on with it so I could have sex that doesn’t make me rub my skin raw afterward. We’ve been dating for almost a year. It’s time.

  Maybe I do have sex dreams about his best friend, Zain, but I have them about Sebastian, too. My hands on his sexy tan skin and fingers through his dark hair.

  I need the fantasies to override my reality. Fantasizing about my boyfriend’s best friend comes with just enough guilt to temporarily trick myself into thinking that’s why I feel disgusting.

  But denial has an end, which brings me here, sitting on the toilet, peeing on my birthday gift to myself, hoping I wasted seven bucks.

  Chapter 3

  Thump, Thump, Thump.

  I charge for the layup and lift the ball toward the rim, expecting the sweet swish of the net. The ball slaps the backboard and ricochets right into Coach Woods’s awaiting hands.

  Another miss.

  “Abner, get your head in the game,” Coach says. “You’re lucky this is just practice, or I’d bench your butt. You’re playing with lead feet. Something weighing you down?”

  Yes, your daughter, but I can’t say that. I’d be off the team no matter how many points I scored last night.

  The Saturday-at-seven-a.m. torture continues, and I’m thankful to see I’m not the only one off. Too much partying last night after our victory over Towne Lake.

  We tried to tell Coach practice wasn’t needed today, but with the End-of-Year Basketball Bash tournament nearing, daily practice—including weekends and holidays—is on our agenda for the next two weeks.

  Thirty minutes later, our agony finally ends with a screeching whistle, and he calls out everyone on their sub-par performance.

  “Stretch for ten,” Coach says. “Then go home and think about how much you can improve for tomorrow’s practice. Let’s make it at six in the morning.”

  Moans echo off the rafters of the gymnasium.

  Sebastian—best friend number one and the first to complain in any situation—drops his basketball and lets it roll across the gym floor and out the door. “But Coach, we’re all going to the Jingle Jam tonight. Can’t we make it later?”

  As captain, I should be the one asking, but I’m not in the mood to argue. I already had my ass handed to me last night by Coach Woods’s daughter and this morning by Coach Woods himself.

  Coach’s lips turn up in a snarl. “After practice, you can go to church and pray for better skills.” He exits just as his daughter, the le
ad in my feet, enters with a basketball in hand.

  As everyone gathers on the half-court line for stretches, I flip on the boombox from Coach’s adolescence. He won’t allow us to bring in our own speaker, and our phones have to stay in our lockers; so, we’re stuck listening to chirpy singers croon Christmas carols on the local pop station. It’s the only station that works, so I guess it beats a silent stretch.

  Farren’s high-heeled boots tap-tap the wood floor as I lead the team in our cool down. Impatient much? I extend our ten-minute stretch to fifteen, trying to put off the continual fighting for as long as I can. The making up is starting to be not worth it.

  All is not bright. All is not calm. Unless you already have your tickets to the sold-out Power 95 Holiday Jingle Jam tonight. My father’s voice blasts through the radio when we finish our cool down, just another person who gives me heartburn.

  Theo places the basketballs into a mesh bag. “Zain, you bring the tickets?”

  “Of course, I did.” The team reminded me every other second yesterday. How could I forget?

  “Sweet. Tell your dad thanks.”

  Sebastian takes off his sneakers. “You bring me an extra one?”

  My middle finger extends in his direction. “Yes, but at least stop and buy her something for her birthday. Flowers, a card, something, not just a free ticket.”

  “Flowers die. Cards get thrown away. I’m giving Brayleigh the gift of wonderful memories. Besides, she said all she wants is me.”

  I scoff. Sebastian is my best friend and all, but he’s a former player, who took a vow of celibacy for some unknown reason. I don’t see how he does it considering his extremely hot girlfriend, who happens to be one of my close friends, is constantly on him, wanting to seal the deal. And that’s the only nagging she does.

  My girlfriend won’t shut up if I so much as glance in another girl’s direction while she berates me about the length of my hair—too long, my casual attire—ugh, do you always have to wear t-shirts with stupid things on them?, and how I haven’t made a decision on what college I plan on attending in the fall—it better be the same one I’m going to. Honestly, I want to get as far away as possible…from her.

  I turn off the radio right as my dad says not to be a grinch. Bah humbug. If I could get a break and have someone to lift me up for once, maybe I wouldn’t be such a downer.

  “I’ll be out in a minute,” I tell Farren. I want to hug her and drench her in my sweat to see her nose turn up at my disgusting self. Maybe her nagging is a direct result of me egging her on.

  “You’re taking a shower, right?” She flips her long hair.

  “I wasn’t going to.”

  “Shower. We’re going to the mall. I don’t want to smell you all day.”

  “Fine. I’ll be out in ten.”

  Twenty minutes later, we head to the crowded mall, thanks to it being eleven days before Christmas. She drags me from store to store, looking for the perfect Jingle Jam attire, finally settling for a red and green plaid skirt topped off with a red sweater.

  “I want to swing by Hot Topic to see if they have those over-the-knee boots in my size,” she says.

  Finally, a store I’ll enjoy.

  Fall Out Boy’s Yule Shoot Your Eye Out blasts when we walk in, the entrance halved in The Grinch and A Christmas Story paraphernalia. I automatically gravitate to the leg lamp lighting up a table of socks featuring Ralphie in a pink bunny costume, Randy pigging out on mashed potatoes, and, my personal favorite, red socks with Oh, Fudge! written all over. I grab two pairs.

  Farren snatches the socks from my hand and tosses them on the table. “You’re not buying those.”

  I pick them up again. “Yes, I am.”

  She cocks her jaw to the side. “Why do you have two pairs?”

  “It’s Bray’s birthday, and the only thing Sebastian’s giving her is a free Jingle Jam ticket. She deserves some sort of birthday present.”

  “Oh, Brayleigh. Of course. You and she have this ridiculous love for that stupid movie.”

  Hostility boils under the surface. One more word out of her red devil lips might cause an epic explosion. “It’s not a stupid movie. And she’s a foster kid. Give her a break.”

  “If you buy those for her, we’re through.”

  And that’s when Mount Vesuvius erupts.

  Chapter 4

  Izzy enters Maya’s house with a smile and a wave. I exhale. She’s safe with Sebastian’s cousin.

  Percy runs his hand up my thigh. “Unzip. I’ll make you feel good.”

  His voice sends shivers down my spine. He’s delusional if he thinks he ever makes me feel good. I grab the door handle, ready to go inside with Izzy and call Sebastian to pick me up, but the car lurches, and we speed away from my safe haven.

  I stare out the window as rooftop Christmas lights twinkle by.

  “Please, just take me to Sebastian’s,” I beg.

  “That’s not how this deal works.”

  I bite my lip as he pulls behind the Merryville Food Mart and halts between a green dumpster and tall bushes that block our spot from anyone’s view, including cameras. I’m so close to the bin that I can’t escape unless I crawl over Percy and take my chances with venomous snakes lingering in the bushes.

  He’s a pervert, but he’s smart.

  He unbuckles and snaps open my seatbelt. Heat drains from the car, making me shiver. I reach for my wadded-up coat on the floorboard.

  Percy grabs my hand. “I’ll warm you up.”

  I close my eyes. I wanted to wait until we were close to Sebastian’s to confront him. Percy has made me walk home in the past when I’ve refused. A few times, he became violent and took what he wanted. But bruises caused suspicion from the social worker, so he got more creative with his ways to control me. Like saying he’d plant drugs in my backpack and make a report to the principal or give Milo sleeping pills before I got home so I wouldn’t be able to play with him. Or that every time I refuse him, he’ll take it out on Izzy.

  He thinks if I don’t fight back, what he’s doing is consensual.

  “Have you been touching Izzy?”

  He climbs over me and pulls the lever on my seat so it lays almost flat.

  Percy pushes my hair behind my ear like Sebastian does before he kisses me.

  “Our deal stands. Now, relax. I want this to be good for us both.”

  I grab the door handle, ready to squeeze my way out.

  “I wouldn’t do that. You know what’ll happen if you do.”

  My stomach clenches.

  Breathe, Bray. Just breath. It’ll be over soon. You’re doing this for Izzy. You’re doing this for Milo. You’re doing this for your future.

  “I’ll do it, just shut up.”

  I drift away to my fantasy world where I’m with Sebastian, someone who loves and cares for me.

  One time, Sebastian got on my school bus so he could find out where I live. Then, Beth gave him a ride back to school so he could get his car. That weekend, he showed up at my house with brownies. A house-warming present, though I’d been living there for a month, and the edges were burnt.

  He asked me about being a foster kid, and I wound up crying over Milo. He wrapped his arm around me and asked me out. Horrible timing, but it made me laugh, so I said yes. And when I got Milo back, he helped me throw a small party for him.

  I cling to the pleasant memory until Percy breaks the illusion by climbing to his seat.

  I open the car door as far as I can and puke.

  “Don’t ever tell me to shut up or act like this is a chore. Be grateful I let you have a boyfriend.” He shakes his head, disgusted with me. “Clean yourself up; your lip is bleeding.”

  My insides scream as he drives away.

  There’s nothing in the glove box to wipe with. Great. Sock it is.

  Blood s
preads on the white cloth. I throw it in the floorboard and take off the other sock to finish the job. “You disgust me.”

  Percy slams the brakes. My head rams into the dash. “Seatbelt, darling.”

  I glare at him.

  He looks ahead with a smirk on his face and turns on the radio. “I doubt Izzy would give me so much trouble,” he says under his breath, pulling to a stop in front of Sebastian’s house.

  “Stay away from her,” I say through clenched teeth.

  “If you were going to tell, you would have already.”

  He has too much power. Too many ways he can ruin my life. But I have one way to ruin his. I get out of the car. “Check the bathroom trash can. I left you a present.”

  “Brayleigh,” Sebastian says from his porch. “Happy birthday.”

  After slamming the car door, I give Percy a wry smile and conniving wave. His reign of controlling me ends today.

  I jog to Sebastian, nearly knocking over a reindeer. My lips halt midway to a kiss, mouth tasting acidic. “I need to use the restroom.”

  “Go to mine,” he says, pulling me inside. “I’ll get your present.”

  His parents are sitting on the couch watching a Christmas movie about a giant elf who eats everything with a gallon of syrup. They smile when I come in then face the TV.

  Sebastian breaks away to steal a plate of fresh-baked sugar cookies with icing melting in every direction.

  Every time he bakes for me, something goes wrong, but he keeps trying.

  I descend the basement stairs to his room and lock his bathroom door behind me. The first thing I grab is his toothbrush.

  A few minutes later, he hands me a shiny ticket. “Here’s your birthday present.”

  “Jingle Jam! We’re going to have so much fun.”

  “See,” Sebastian says, “I told Zain you were cool with it. He thought I should get you some big gift, but how boring is that? Jingle Jam will be a night full of memories.”

  “Yeah, it’ll be great.” I try a cookie, crunchy on the outside, gooey in the middle. “And these are good.”

 

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