Unbroken

by Jasmine Carolina

  “Yeah, well, Bee stinks.”

  I shrug as I pull into the parking lot of Gracie’s school. “We can’t blame her. This wasn’t her fault.”

  She rolls her eyes at me before climbing out of the car. While I watch her head toward her practice, my phone rings, notifying me of a text message.

  Maddox Bradley:

  I hate this. I hate that we don’t talk anymore. I love you.

  My heart surges at his admission, but it’s not enough. Nothing he could ever say would make up for what he did to me and my family. And if he hasn’t apologized—which is the very least he could do—then obviously he hasn’t realized that, and he’s not worth talking to.

  Me:

  Not enough. Let me ask you something, Maddox. If I had never caught you, would you ever have stopped?

  His response is instantaneous.

  Maddox Bradley:

  That’s not fair.

  My blood boils just looking at those three words. What he did to us wasn’t fair either. Him not seeing the error of his ways isn’t fair. Him bothering me when I’m finally healing and ready to get on with my life isn’t fair.

  Me:

  The fact that you think that is precisely the reason we don’t talk anymore. It’s both a fair question, and a question I need answered before I’ll even consider considering talking to you like we used to again. Until you wise up—which I doubt you will—FUCK OFF MY LINE.

  I press lock on my phone and stick it in my purse. I don’t want to see it and risk seeing whatever he texts me. I don’t want to see anything that he has to say.

  I’ll admit, while we were together, everything between Maddox and me was good. It was phenomenal. Despite the fact that my parents hated him, everything was perfect in our relationship. He was sweet. He opened car doors for me, pulled out my chair when he took me out to eat. He introduced me to his parents and made sure I was the first to get a ticket to his high school graduation. When we had sex for the first time, he was gentle and slow. He made me laugh daily, and it definitely helped that he wasn’t bad looking. We rarely fought, and whenever we did, he made it up to me by bringing flowers to my window every day for a week—even if he was right and I was wrong. He taught me how to drive, and even showed me how to change a tire once Mom and Daddy got the Honda for me. He was smart, charming, and everything a girl could ever wish for in a boyfriend.

  I don’t know where things went wrong.

  But once they did, there was no turning back.

  I peer out the window, out to where Gracie has met up with her coach. She waves at me from the field, and I wave back.

  Taking a deep breath, I turn the radio up and start the long drive from here to Le Chateau D’If.

  Within forty five minutes, I’m walking into the swanky restaurant. I don’t get the chance to take in the decor of the place before I’m ushered out of the front and into the locker room. There are two other girls besides me, and there’s also a boy who seems to be my age. I recognize Jenny Archer, the owner’s niece and manager of the restaurant. I walk over to her to be introduced to my other colleagues, but she stops me short.

  “You, make your way to my office. We have a proposition for you tonight.”

  I raise an eyebrow, but I do as I’m told.

  Inside her office, there’s a boy. A boy. He’s actually very handsome as handsomeness goes, but the feeling I get when I look at him is vaguely Not-Lewellyn’s-Guy. So I give him a curt smile and take a seat across from where he sits at Jenny’s desk.

  “Hi,” he says with a grin. “My name is Colin Westwick. How are you this evening?”

  When he speaks, he sounds so mature, but there’s no denying that he’s not much older than me. I wonder what it is about him that makes him seem older than his years. I lean across the desk and extend my hand to him.

  “Sabrina Matteo. I’m grand.”

  He nods, placing his hands atop the desk after our handshake and folding them in front of him. He runs his hands through his dark hair, and then leans back in Jenny’s chair, crossing one leg at the ankle, resting it on his knee. I recoil a bit from this position he’s put himself in, because he looks like somebody’s CEO or something with the way he’s sitting, and there’s no way that’s possible when he can’t be older than eighteen or nineteen.

  “Miss Matteo, I have a business proposal for you. Tomorrow night is my first anniversary with my girlfriend. The two of us have been through an incredibly rough year, and I want our first anniversary to be memorable for her. I’ve spoken with Ms. Archer, and she’s agreed to grant me one of her waitresses for the evening, and she’s given me the okay to pick whoever suits my needs best.”

  I lean forward, no longer intimidated by him. In fact, I’m intrigued.

  “You’ve interviewed all of us like this, alone in Ms. Archer’s office?” I ask.

  “Only the females.”

  Oh, now he’s really gotta start answering some questions. Something about the way he says that, and the look on his face when he does, rubs me the wrong way, and I’m going to figure out why.

  “Only the females? A bit misogynistic, aren’t you?”

  He shakes his head, running a hand along the back of his neck.

  “My girlfriend is less uncomfortable around strangers when they’re females.” He pauses, then clears his throat as though I’ve made him uncomfortable. “I’m offering three hundred dollars to whoever our waitress is for the night. First, I have to ask: what would you do with an extra three hundred dollars for working just one night?”

  I’m positive that my jaw is on the floor. There’s no way this kid has bank like this, where he can offer three hundred dollars just for working one night. There’s no way in the world…unless he really is a CEO like I originally pegged him as.

  I laugh to myself at the thought. There’s no way.

  “I’d put it in my bank account to save toward getting my own apartment.”

  I try to answer him as honestly as possible. I know three hundred dollars isn’t going to cure world hunger or pay for one of my siblings to go to college or something. And it sure as shit isn’t going to get me the apartment I want. But it’s a start. It’s a stepping stone toward independence.

  “Why are you saving toward getting your own apartment?”

  I shrug. That answer’s simple. “When I told my parents I wanted to be a neonatal surgeon, they promised to pay my way through medical school, and for my seventeenth birthday, they bought me my first car.” Pausing, I give another shrug. “Me saving for an apartment on my own is my way of showing them that I’m capable of doing things on my own. And it’s also my way of showing them that I don’t take a moment of their hard work for granted. That I value it just as much as they do, and I can work hard for something that I want instead of having it handed to me.”

  With wide eyes, he stands to his feet and offers his hand to me. He looks surprised by my answer, and that makes me wonder what the other girls said in response to him. Getting to my feet, I shake his outstretched hand and try my hardest not to blush.

  “It was great to meet you, Miss Matteo. I’ll be in touch with you sometime tomorrow, and I’ll let you know whether I’ve chosen you or not.”

  He walks out the office and I just stand there, completely perplexed by this man.

  What the Hell just happened?

  THREE

  I’M ON EDGE AS I change out of my school clothes and into my work uniform in the locker room. I was running late and didn’t have time to stop at home to get ready, so I’m doing the best I can with what I’ve got in my locker. So far, I’m the first person here, and I wonder if that’s a good thing. I want Ms. Archer to know that I’m reliable, so I’m doing my best to leave her with a good impression.

  My eyes roam over the shelf inside my locker, and I try and find whatever I can to make myself presentable. All I have in here is a jar of Pro-Styl gel, a can of hairspray, three bobby pins, a liga, liquid eyeliner, and a tube of mascara. I guess that’s what I’ve g
ot to work with, so I grab it all and head into the bathroom.

  I’ve always kept a brush in my purse, so I pull that out right before I coif my bangs. I pin them back and, with gel on my fingers, I slick the sides of my hair down. Within five minutes, I have a perfect ponytail, winged eyeliner, and my brown eyes pop about as much as is possible with only mascara to do the trick.

  Placing all my things back in my locker, I allow myself to think of Maddox, and how everything he did has affected me so far. In six months, I’ve gone from confident and completely sure of myself to timid and questioning everything about myself. I’m constantly wondering if I’m good enough, pretty enough, thin enough, smart enough, funny enough, enough, enough, enough. I’m constantly wondering if I was good enough, why did he hurt me the way he did?

  They’re questions I’ll never have the answers to, and I think that’s what bothers me the most. The fact that I’ll never be sure. I’ll always wonder.

  Shit, there are plenty things that will keep me wondering for the rest of my life.

  Grabbing a tube of lip gloss from my purse, I rub some on my lips and rub them together. Closing my eyes, I push all thoughts of wondering and questioning out of my mind. I can worry about all of that later.

  I glance up at the clock that rests above the window to Ms. Archer’s office, and I realize that my shift is set to start in about twenty minutes. With twenty minutes to spare, I make my way out of the locker room and into the ballroom.

  It’s been rented out tonight for Colin Westwick and his girlfriend’s anniversary—I’m not even going to waste my time wondering how he pulled that off—and Silence of Sound is doing last minute practice before the happy couple arrives.

  “Hey!” Phoenix, the lead singer, exclaims, glancing up at me the minute the door is closed behind me. “What are you doing here?”

  I shrug. “I work here. What are you doing here? I thought you were only going to be regular entertainment when the restaurant opened?”

  This is the Phoenix Sexton I know. Normally he’ll stroll over to a girl with an undeniable sex appeal, a smirk on his face as he pushes his hair back and slouches forward. But no, he doesn’t do that to me. He knows it won’t work on me, because our bonds run much deeper than any attraction ever would. We’re bonded by blood.

  He smiles lazily and all but runs over to me. We haven’t seen each other in months, mostly due to my being a hermit and his being a badass rocker.

  My cousins Phoenix and Cabe—on my mother’s side—started their band in middle school, but they only made a name for themselves last year. His older brother Cabe manages the band, and they’re pretty successful considering 75% of the band is still in high school. They put out two EPs: Echoes, and Vibration came later. In January, though, they put out a full-length album called Oblivion, and now they’re trying to establish themselves.

  He wraps me up in a hug, and shrugs at me. “Well, we’re technically not contracted to start performing here for another week, after the grand opening, but some rich kid hired us to play his anniversary or something like that. Considering we’re not touring, and Gibson’s still on break from school, we decided to take the gig.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “Question. Was the kid well-dressed, about ye high, talks like he’s thirty, last name Westwick?”

  Phoenix nods. “Yeah. He seemed a bit pretentious to me, but Cabe says we can’t afford to say no to money right now. What’s your read on him?”

  I think back to his so-called interview with me the other day, and the few things he actually said to me. He only interviewed females, his girl was uncomfortable around men, and he was willing to pay up to three hundred dollars for just one night. Hell, for it to be an “interview”, he only asked one question. However, he didn’t seem pretentious from where I was standing. Sure, he was going a bit overboard for a first anniversary, but isn’t that what most girls want? To be spoiled?

  “I don’t think about him one way or another. He was nice to me, and he’s paying me three hundred for the night, so I don’t have any complaints whatsoever.”

  Nix laughs. “Yeah, I feel ya there. He offered to pay us, but I told him to pay Cabe. We can put that toward the new album and promo, rather than in our pockets. I’m happy for you, though, Bree.”

  At seventeen, Phoenix is the only cousin I have who’s my age. His brother Cabe is twenty one, and his sister Bevin is nine. But we were like best friends and always have been.

  I sit myself on the edge of the stage while Bella, the female lead singer of SoS, continues to strum away and tune her guitar. I can’t help myself, really, as I take in the ambiance of the ballroom. It’s adorned with tea lights and tapered candles, and only one light is on: the spotlight over the stage. The sole table in the room is covered in red rose petals, and heart-shaped balloons are hanging from the ceiling like a bad Valentine’s Day ad.

  “Damn. Whoever his girl is is lucky as shit. I can’t imagine being adored this much,” I say.

  Phoenix raises an eyebrow. “What happened to Maddox?”

  His question reaches inside my chest, wraps around my heart, and squeezes. It’s such a simple question, while the answer is anything but.

  Shaking my head, I give him a small smile. “Maddox and I are no longer a going concern.” When he looks like he’s going to ask another question, I hold a hand up. “Don’t even try it. I don’t want to talk about it.”

  There are scores of things I haven’t talked about with anyone yet, not even my siblings or my parents. And although he’s not number one, Maddox Bradley is at the top of that list. There are things I want to keep to myself, things I only let out beneath the beating of the water when I shower each morning, crying just loud enough to relieve myself of the pain and grief, but not loud enough for anyone to hear me.

  His arms come up to wrap around my shoulders and I rest my head against his. “You’ll be okay, prima. And if you’re not, you know Cabe and me have your back.”

  This is how we’ve been since we were kids. We would always just sit next to each other, because we’re the closest in age, and talk for hours. But whenever there was something I didn’t want to talk about, Phoenix would just hug me around the shoulders and tell me everything would be okay. Then, he’d threaten some sort of bodily harm to whoever it was that upset me.

  Laughing, I nudge him with my shoulder. He groans as a result, and I laugh again at his histrionics. “So you’re telling me that if he gives me problems, my rock star cousins will kick some ass for me?”

  He smacks his hand over his chest where I nudged him as though I did permanent damage, and smiles. “Of course. There’s nothing we wouldn’t do for you, Bree.”

  …

  THERE ARE A MILLION THINGS I have to do each day.

  I have to get up at 5:30 a.m., wake Dalis up, and make sure she has her uniform on. Then, once she’s dressed, I wake Cason up and let him get himself together. While he’s showering, I do Dalis’s hair if Nomi’s busy, and then I get dressed. We have to leave the house by seven, because we carpool with Nikkolas and Sarah. We have to drive to the outskirts of Harlow to take Dalis and Cason to Reid Middle School—Cason’s high school is right beside the middle school. Then we drop Emerson off at day care before we get to school finally.

  I get out of school at noon—thanks to working three times as hard as my friends, as well as taking summer and adult school classes to get ahead—and then I catch the bus to Hastings, the auto shop where I’ve worked for six years. I work there until six thirty, and then I take the bus back to the Quinn household. Mama lends me her car to pick Cason and Dalis up from their tutor’s house, and then come back.

  It’s exhausting, and leaves little to no time for a social life if I don’t have anyone around to help me. Thankfully, most days, Mama is more than willing to take some of the burden off of me.

  She’s always told me that I’m a prideful young man, way too prideful than I should be at this age. Any time someone tries to help me, I’m adamant in my refusal of their assi
stance. I don’t like handouts. I don’t like being a burden on those around me. I took the responsibility for my siblings, so I want to keep it. I don’t want or need anyone taking care of me.

  Despite all that, somehow Ma convinced me to let her take the burden off of me. She takes the kids on the weekends so I can have some type of life. She invites us for dinner on Sunday, that way I only have to cook dinner Monday through Thursday. And when we’re not staying at her house, she makes me check in once a week to make sure things aren’t getting too much for me.

  The weekends are the best, even though most times, all I do is put in overtime at Hastings. If I’m feeling particularly happy or sad, I hang out with Nic and Colin, or I go visit Mom at the cemetery.

  Today is the first day since I started high school that I have a day off. Cason and Dalis had a minimum day at school, I’m off of work, and I don’t quite know what to do with myself when no one needs me.

  I like to be needed. No, I need to be needed. It keeps me from focusing too long on my problems.

  Everyone’s at school except me, and I can’t afford to spend money unnecessarily when there are bills to pay back at home. So whatever I decide to do for fun today, it has to be free. But in Harlow, whatever’s free isn’t very fun.

  Having Mr. Quinn’s car today makes things easier, because I don’t have to worry about bus fare. Mama usually comps me for the gas I use, so I have total freedom until dinner time.

  Driving around Harlow always leads me to one place: Harlow Cemetery.

  She’s buried right by her father. He passed the year before she did, and he loved her very much. I remember that. I also remember that the day of her funeral was the last time we ever saw our grandmother. She was blindsided by the fact that our father was keeping us in Harlow instead of moving us to Mom’s hometown of San Francisco, and he didn’t want her to see us. So she fled after the funeral, and we haven’t heard from her since then.

  I grab my backpack and her flowers out of the passenger seat. I drop onto the grass in front of her headstone and cross my legs. Reaching inside my backpack, I pull my Coke, chips, and a bottle of water out, and then grab the bouquet of flowers so I can put them in the cup near her grave.