Broken Chains

by Lizzy Ford

  I call Kiesha and tell her I need to see her. Jenna glances at me, worry in her gaze. When I hang up, I’ve got more texts from Ari and one from Chris, asking me why I redirected the driver. I tell him I need to do something important and manage not to make any jabs about Dr. Thompkins. He gives me the one word approved response again that irritates me.

  It takes a little over an hour in rush hour traffic to reach the courthouse. The paparazzi snap a zillion pics as I ascend the stairs to the station. Jenna’s hands are shaking, but she ignores the photographers, and we step into the police station.

  I have them page Kiesha, who appears with a bright smile after a few minutes.

  “Can we talk somewhere?” I ask.

  “Sure.” Her gaze takes in Jenna then goes back to me. I suspect she knows why we’re there as she leads us to one of the awful interview rooms.

  “You want me to stay?” I ask Jenna.

  She hesitates.

  “It might be best,” Kiesha says.

  I nod. They go into the room, and I sit down outside the door, waiting. My own hands are shaking. Jenna’s pain reminds me of mine, of how I still can’t go to bed without looking under the bed. Of how I’m about to be exiled alone in an apartment. It’s a block from the police station, but I was only a few feet away from a huge party in the garden, and no one heard me scream.

  “Do I want to know why you’re here?” the DA’s voice makes me tense. He’s standing at the intersection of two hallways, staring at me.

  “I’m here with a friend,” I answer.

  “I hear you’re moving down the street.”

  “You tell me. I’m the last to know what’s going on.” I shouldn’t snap at him, but I really can’t help it.

  Apparently, he takes the hint or doesn’t want to deal with me. He moves on without another word, and I rest my head against the wall. Dom didn’t respond to my last text, and I’m wishing he did. I feel lonely in the hallway.

  Jenna’s interview lasts for over two hours. By the time she’s done, I’m cramping from not stretching after soccer and dozing. The sound of the door opening jars me awake. Jenna’s face is red from crying, and Kiesha’s hand is on her arm. I trail them to the restroom, where Kiesha stays outside while Jenna goes in.

  “She says you inspired her,” Kiesha says, turning to me. “I imagine you inspire a lot of girls to come forward.”

  “Inspire is a strong word,” I reply awkwardly. “I’m a coward who couldn’t come forward until someone died.”

  “You’re no coward, Mia.”

  Of everything on my mind, the one thing I can’t think about without tears is Tanya. I still have the picture I took, still remember her mother’s face. I push the image from my mind.

  “Where’s Dom?” I ask to change the subject.

  “He’s working nights this week,” Kiesha replies. “I keep seeing you in the paper.”

  “I know,” I mutter. “I don’t even look anymore.”

  Kiesha looks like she’s trying not to smile, and I wonder if she figured out my connection to Jenna. She doesn’t say anything else about it, and Jenna emerges. She’s tried to fix her make-up, but she looks awful. Grimly, I wonder if that’s how I look every time I do the same thing.

  Kiesha leads us to the front again and stops at the information desk.

  “Thanks, Kiesha,” I say.

  “Never a problem. Any message for Dom?”

  “Just tell him next time we play basketball, I might let him win.”

  Kiesha laughs and gives me a quick hug. With the help of my bodyguards, I lead Jenna back through the media to the car. Jenna slumps, drained. I’m not sure what to say to her, except to ask her address for the driver.

  She tells me and falls silent. I wish I knew what to say. What did I want others to say to me when I was in her spot? I don’t remember.

  “You can call me, if you ever want to talk,” I say at last, as we pull up to her home.

  “Thanks.” She smiles wanly then gets out.

  I’m not at all happy about the exchange. I should do or say something else. I don’t need Dr. Thompkins to tell me that communication is one of my limitations.

  I watch Jenna walk to her door and disappear inside before we drive away. The driver starts towards home, and I make another decision that I’m certain will earn me a lecture from Chris.

  “Take me to Ari’s,” I say.

  The driver obeys, and Chris’s text comes a few minutes later. This time, I don’t have the patience to be civil with him and just tell him I’ll be home when I’m home. Which gets me an order to see him as soon as I walk in the door.

  Agitated, I fidget all the way to Ari’s. As soon as the car stops, I hurry to her door. The butler answers, and I wait for her dad’s approval to enter before stepping into the foyer.

  “Mia, it’s like, nine!” Ari says, flying around the corner. “You’ve been ignoring me for hours! What the hell is going on?”

  “We need to talk,” I say, grateful she listened to me tonight. I know I freaked her out, and I’m glad that was enough to keep her from going out.

  “Fine. Come on.” She’s upset with me.

  For once, I don’t care. I’m not about to apologize. I’m not gonna think twice about preventing her from going through what I did.

  We go to her room, and I tell her everything Jenna told me. Ari’s face loses all color as she listens. Her initial response is denial, but I keep at her until she’s promised never to go out with Benji again.

  And then I start crying, drained by the events of the evening. Ari wraps her arms around me. She’s shaking but calmer than me.

  By the time I get home, it’s almost midnight. Chris’s lackey is waiting for me in the foyer. The minute I walk in, she points down the hall. I groan but go.

  I drop into a chair at the table where Chris works. He looks like he’s ready for a full day of work. He has more energy with little-to-no sleep than I have after a full night of sleep. He gives me the silent treatment and waits for me to explain myself.

  “I know, I know.” I groan. “Just yell at me and get it over with.”

  “I’m a litigator. Convince me why I shouldn’t yell.”

  “In the morning? Please?”

  “Now.”

  “Omigod, Chris.” I sigh.

  I tell him everything, from Jenna and the reason she’s picking fights to the police station and dropping by to warn Ari. Chris listens without interruption. I’m so tired by the time I’m done, I want to cry again. I finish and wait.

  “Dr. Thompkins tomorrow then community service.”

  “That’s it?” I ask sarcastically. “You don’t want to put me in orange and have me pick up trash after?”

  He gives me the look that says he doesn’t have to go easy on me. I hop up and leave before he changes his mind. By the time I’m ready for bed, I’m almost too tired to read Ari’s handful of texts. Dom sends one, too, that makes me laugh despite my exhaustion.

  So I hear you beat me at basketball.

  I type a smiley and hit send, happy to end the stressful day messing with him for once. I figure I’ve won this round with him. Finally.

  You ready to cross that line? His response makes me curse.

  I stare at the question, heart pounding. I think of how I played with Robert and lost. I think of how responsible I was. I shouldn’t have drunk so much. I shouldn’t have wanted to feel beautiful.

  I breathe deeply. Robert has taken so much from me. I won’t let him take Dom from me.

  Slowly, I type and send my answer. Game on.

  Your ball.

  I feel freaked out but excited. I’m scared. I trust him. I want him to be my friend and maybe someday, something more. I’m still not certain what that means, except I don’t want to lose him.

  9

  The next day – Friday – I’m a zombie. I stayed up too late and hit the snooze too many times. The chef hands me a cappuccino on my way out the door, for which I’m grateful. I’m starving by
the time I get to school.

  Ari meets me at my locker. She’s upset, and I imagine it’s because she broke up with Benji. When I ask, she nods. I’m beyond relieved. I dread first period and keep reminding myself that Benji doesn’t know why Ari dumped him. He can’t know Jenna’s reported him.

  I sneak looks at him throughout English, struck by another thought. I don’t know how Jenna comes to school with him there every day or how she can be in the same room with him without sobbing.

  Her lashing out at me makes more sense. The same anger I carry, she carries, and I’m a damn good target. I mean, we’ve been competing since we were ten. It makes sense she’d take out her emotions on me, the same way I let her provoke me. I need the release, too.

  “Hey, you know why Ari won’t talk to me?” Benji whispers towards the end of class.

  I want to take my pen and stab him through the neck. I shake my head without looking at him.

  “Well, I guess if we’re over, do you want to go out?”

  I look at him and clench my fists. I want to hit him.

  “Is that a no?” he asks.

  “That’s a hell no.”

  “What the hell?” he asks, surprised. “First Ari and now you.”

  It strikes me now how easily he went from liking me to dating Ari. I wonder if he’s just playing everyone. My phone vibrates, a welcome distraction. I’m about to launch myself at the guy who thought he could hurt my Ari. I don’t recognize the phone number but open the text.

  Mia, it’s Jenna. I think I do want to talk. You want to do breakfast tomorrow?

  Talk about bad timing. Then again, I can meet with her then Dom. I’ll be beyond wired on coffee, but I might need it if I sleep like crap again tonight. I’m meeting Dom at eight then leaving for community service around nine thirty.

  Sure, I type back. It’s gotta be early. 7 ok?

  She sends her response and I give her the address of the coffee shop near my new digs. Benji is waiting for me to finish. I take my time to save Jenna’s number – contact number seven! – then set the phone down just as the bell rings.

  I bolt. Benji calls out after me, but I move too fast. I manage to avoid him the rest of the day, but it also means avoiding my locker and Ari. I tell her what’s up. She says nothing about Benji, just reminds me of our shopping date Sunday.

  There’s no soccer or cheer squad practice today. I go home to find Dr. Thompkins waiting for me with Chris in the study. The hallway is full of Chris’s lackeys, but it’s just the three of us in the study. Chris closes the door.

  “We’re doing a periodic evaluation,” Dr. Thompkins starts.

  I say nothing, but I’m thinking evil thoughts at him. Evaluation days happen every month, and they last two hours. Chris leans back in his chair to listen. I glance at him, not understanding why he’s there. It’s better him than Daddy, though. I know it’s gonna be rough when the shrink starts off asking about my new living arrangements.

  I’m in tears an hour in, and I’m ready to walk out. Chris says nothing, aside from giving me warning looks every time I do threaten to leave before we’re finished.

  Somehow, I survive the grueling event.

  “Her recovery has been remarkable,” Dr. Thompkins says to Chris. “You have nothing to worry about.”

  Chris doesn’t look impressed at all, and I want to crawl in my closet and never leave again.

  “The routine of school and exposure to social situations are important,” Dr. Thompkins continues. “She is healing emotionally in a healthy way.”

  “Careful, doc, or you’ll put yourself out of a job,” I snap.

  “Mia,” Chris chides.

  “You’ve been forced to transition from a girl to an adult this summer, both physically and emotionally,” Dr. Thompkins says to me, unfazed. “You have faced very challenging situations and made rational decisions with a level of emotional maturity most teenagers don’t have. You are more than capable of living in your own place and being responsible for your actions.”

  “I’m cured?”

  “You will never be who you were. I’m recommending continued therapy, but I see no problem with you living on your own, provided you have some structure to your life,” Dr. Thompkins replies.

  I don’t know if I like that. I understand what he’s saying. I guess I hoped maybe some part of this summer would eventually go away.

  “Thank you, Dr.Thompkins. Mia, service time,” Chris states.

  I wish I knew what he thought about my progress, about me. I’ve never welcomed his cool dismissal as much as I do now. I run to my room.

  It’s empty. Even my safety closet. I stand in the middle of my room, already missing it. Chris says I’ll go from community service to my new home tonight. I wasn’t sure how I’d feel about leaving.

  I feel devastated. There’s nothing for me here at Daddy’s. I really did lose everything this summer.

  I trudge down the stairs just as Dr. Thompkins closes the door behind him. Chris is there. The look I give him makes him sigh.

  “The house is always open to you,” he says. “I’ll be in your neighborhood regularly for the case.”

  “I didn’t think this would hurt so much.”

  “You’ll be better off.”

  “Dom says the same.”

  Chris’s eyebrow goes up. “So you are still in contact.”

  “Does it matter if I am? I don’t have many friends, and I’ve lost my family,” I retort, crossing my arms.

  “You’re old enough to make your own decisions.”

  “As long as you approve?”

  “Precisely.” He gives me a rare smile.

  I roll my eyes. “I’m surprised you approve of him. He’s not rich or connected.”

  “There’s a difference between approving and not disapproving,” Chris says.

  “Do you use lawyer-speak with Daddy or just with me?” I ask.

  “Dom hasn’t given me a reason to distrust him. I believe myself to be a good judge of character. I don’t think he will. That said, he’s got a long way to go to prove himself.”

  I stare at Chris, startled. The men around me have finally started shedding their masks. I’m amazed to find which ones care and which ones don’t, because no one is who I thought they’d be. Daddy chose political allies over me.

  Chris chose me.

  “You’re going to be late,” Chris adds. He turns and retreats to his study.

  I watch him go then smile.

  My time at the shelter drags. Gianna works four shifts of twelve and is off for three days. She’s off today, and there’s nothing but me, stupid forms and Ari’s texts.

  When I leave, I feel a familiar sense of anxiety. The driver takes me to my new home. A bodyguard checks me in with the front guard, and I enter quickly. To my surprise, Ari is standing in the lobby with her father. She runs up to me with a hug. I squeeze her back.

  At almost seven feet tall, Ari’s dad isn’t someone anyone would choose to mess with. He’s built like a tank with sharp eyes and a quick smile.

  “We thought we’d show you your new place,” Ari says, stepping away with a happy smile.

  “Wow, thanks.” I relax some, happy she’s there with me.

  We ride in an unfriendly steel elevator to the third floor. There are four doors along the hallway, all of which look like they belong on vaults. I’m starting to freak about living in a bunker, when Ari’s father opens the door to my apartment.

  My breath catches. The interior is the opposite of the cold, concrete-steel exterior and hallways. As soon as I step foot in the apartment, I know Ari picked out the furniture and décor. It’s not Mom’s heavy European style or Molly’s post-modern preference. It’s a modern penthouse with dark wood furniture and light fabrics, plush carpet and marble floors, pops of fuchsia, orange and teal, and plenty of open space. There’s a formal dining area and living area then a cozy family room with latte-colored walls off a large kitchen filled with stainless steel. Tons of light filters in through
shaded glass.

  “This is incredible!” I exclaim.

  “You haven’t seen the best part!” Ari says, grabbing my hand. She pulls me through the kitchen to a hallway off the far side. There are three doors down the hallway, one a large bathroom she rushes past and another a guest bedroom. She tugs me into the master bedroom.

  It’s huge, larger than mine at home. The California King is a sleigh bed with a shapely headboard, sides and baseboard upholstered in dark grey. The walls are blue-gray, the wall art and pillows bright teal and charcoal gray. The room is massive, with a sitting area containing an entertainment center and two wardrobes and a dresser, in addition to two large walk-in closets and large bathroom. Someone has even unpacked and set up all my clothes in the closets.

  Overwhelmed, I start crying. I hug Ari hard.

  “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” I say through my tears.

  “I wanted it to be perfect. Is it?”

  “It is!”

  “Okay, now for the serious part. C’mon. Dad will show you.”

  It’s the happiest I’ve been in months. I let her pull me back to the living room, where her father is waiting with a smile.

  “Your apartment is equipped with a few safety features,” he starts. “Bullet proof glass, pretty standard. Custom ventilation system, hand print locks, thermal detection alarm at night, and an away alarm that’ll lock down everything if triggered. There are two buttons to trigger it, one in the bedroom and one down the hall.”

  I stare at him.

  “A few other bells and whistles, but this is the most important one.” He walks down the hall on the other side of the apartment.

  I trail.

  “Gun safe, if you need one.” He points into a small library, where a massive safe his height is in one corner. He continues walking to the hallway’s dead end.

  I watch in surprise as he places his hand against what looks like an outlet without plugs.

  “Hand here, door opens.”