Broken Beautiful Hearts

by Kami Garcia

  Based on the conversation, I was expecting Grace to be awkward or mousy-looking, but she’s pretty—thick glossy hair, brown eyes, and rosy cheeks.

  April glares at me from beneath her expertly coated lashes. “You’re in the wrong bathroom. Visitors use the one on their side of the stadium.” She crosses her arms and taps her foot, as if she expects me to scurry out.

  I’m not a fan of power trips, and April is on a serious one. “Am I supposed to be intimidated? Because I’m just not feeling it. What else have you got?”

  Madison puts her hand on her hip and stares. The whole scene is déjà vu from middle school.

  April snorts. “You’re obviously not from around here, so I’ll let that go.”

  “Are you always this perceptive? What gave me away? My accent or the fact that you’ve never seen me before?” I ask. “I’m actually from a faraway place called Washington, DC. The president lives there, in a big white house called … the White House. Maybe you’ve heard of it?”

  Madison and Grace stare at me wide-eyed, as if I’m the only person who has ever stood up to April.

  April narrows her eyes. “I’d be careful if I were you.”

  “Or what? You’ll throw lip gloss at me?” I almost laugh.

  I’m done here.

  Grace stifles a smile as I pass her on my way out, and I stop. This girl deserves a break. “By the way, your friend, and I use that term loosely”—I gesture at April—“didn’t dump Christian. He dumped her. She was whining about it before you walked in.”

  “You bi—” April shouts at me as the door closes.

  That was fun.

  Sticking up for Grace cheered me up a little.

  The stadium has emptied out for the most part, and the sight of the green field makes me feel like running. As a striker, it was my job to move the ball down the soccer field and score goals. The team relied on my speed.

  I can’t remember a time when I didn’t play soccer. Dad spent hours dribbling alongside me—him with a standard soccer ball and me with a toddler-sized version. He stood in front of a flimsy net we’d made out of PVC pipes, and played goalkeeper for hours so I could practice my corner shots. I lose myself in the memories.

  “Hey! Watch—”

  I look up in time to see a guy’s broad chest before I walk right into him. My knee gives out, but he catches my arm.

  “Nice save,” he says, as if I’m the one who kept him from falling instead of the other way around.

  I jerk away from him. The combination of hearing Reed’s voice a few minutes ago and feeling a guy grab me from out of nowhere … it’s too much.

  “You okay?” Brown eyes that look even darker against his pale skin.

  It’s Owen, the mystery guy from the parking lot.

  “I’m fine.”

  “You sure?”

  Why won’t my pulse slow down?

  “Yeah. I have to go.” I take off in the opposite direction, embarrassed.

  I bumped into a guy and almost jumped out of my skin? This isn’t me. I’m the person who never flinches during horror movies.

  The leg brace makes me feel helpless. What if a stranger had grabbed me instead of Owen? Knowing I couldn’t run or fight someone off terrifies me.

  Or if someone tries to hurt me again.

  Mom and Hawk are exactly where I left them. The Twins have returned from the locker room, freshly showered, and they swapped their football uniforms for jeans and T-shirts. The four of them are huddled together talking. They’re probably discussing my fragile state. They think I’m too traumatized to hang out at a stupid party. But I’m not the damaged person everyone thinks.

  I refuse to be that girl.

  I walk up behind the Twins and squeeze between them. “So when are we going to that party you were telling me about?”

  CHAPTER 11

  Bitches and Barn Parties

  “I THOUGHT YOU said you weren’t coming,” one of my cousins says. Now that Christian and Cameron have changed out of their numbered football jerseys, I’m back to guessing which one of them is talking to me.

  “I changed my mind.”

  The Twins each swing an arm over my shoulders and sandwich me in a bear hug.

  “Just wait,” one of them says.

  “You’ll love it,” the other finishes.

  Doubtful.

  Mom’s eyes well. “You’re not leaving without giving me a hug, too. I’ll probably be on the road by the time you get back to Hawk’s.”

  “You aren’t staying the night?” my uncle asks her.

  “I already took today off, and I have an important meeting tomorrow.”

  “So where’s my hug?” Mom opens her arms wide and I let her squeeze me as hard as she wants. “I’m going to miss you.”

  “Don’t worry.”

  “It’s part of the job description.” She releases me.

  The Twins trade uncomfortable looks. I want to get out of here as much as they do. The lump in my throat gets bigger every time Mom sniffles.

  “I’ll call you tomorrow.” I give her another quick hug and walk toward the Twins, who perk up the minute they realize we’re leaving.

  She waves. “I love you, sweetheart.”

  “Me too.”

  “I’ll take your things to the house,” Hawk says. “Your mama will feel better after she gets a chance to give me instructions and boss me around.”

  The Twins fall into step on either side of me.

  “Let’s get outta here before they make us go eat dinner with them,” one says.

  “So what’s the trick?” I ask as we walk to the parking lot.

  “Run like hell before they catch us,” my other cousin laughs.

  “I mean the trick to telling you guys apart.”

  The twin in the green T-shirt nods in his brother’s direction. “Obviously, I have cooler hair and I’m better looking.”

  His brother laughs. “Don’t give up on your dreams, bro.”

  “Be serious. I don’t want to guess who I’m talking to all the time.”

  “Nope. But I’ll make it easy for you. Cam’s shirt is blue. Mine is green,” Christian says.

  I wait for a serious answer, but that’s all I get. “Come on. I’m smarter than your ex-girlfriend April. Give me a real answer.”

  Christian frowns, his thumbs hooked through the belt loops of his jeans. “How do you know about April?”

  “I met her in the restroom. She was in full-on bitch mode.”

  Cam cuts between two trucks. “April gave you a hard time?”

  “I’ll set her straight at the party,” Christian says. There isn’t a hint of anger in his voice, but the comment strikes a nerve.

  “She’s not intimidating enough to give me a hard time. She was busy torturing another cheerleader.” I turn to Christian. “And if anyone needs to be straightened out, I’ll take care of it myself.”

  “I just meant I’d talk to her.” Christian runs a hand through his damp hair, making it stick up in a few places. “I’d never put my hands on a girl.”

  Cam smirks, and Christian adds, “Not in a bad way … or without asking first. But if I have a girl’s permission, then I’m all hands.”

  “I hope that sounded better in your head,” I say.

  Christian scratches his head and looks at Cam. “What did I miss?”

  “TMI, bro,” Cam says. “Keep that stuff to yourself.”

  “Right.” Christian nods. “Sorry, Peyton. My bad. So did you tell April who you were?”

  I laugh. “Who am I?”

  “You’re our cousin. Did you tell her?” he asks again.

  “Sorry, I didn’t realize you two were celebrities. Next time, I’ll ask your ex to put a hold on the bitchcraft so I can identify myself properly.”

  I scan the parking lot and try to guess which pickup truck is Cameron’s. “Where’s your car?”

  Cam gestures at the end of the row. “The gray F-150 with the lights on top is mine. Dale Earnhardt Jr. here burn
ed out his clutch and he’s too lazy to put in a new one.”

  “Why should I bust my ass fixing it when I have you to chauffeur me around?”

  Cam unlocks the truck. “Keep running your mouth. It’s a long walk to school.”

  Christian opens the passenger-side door and tries to help me climb in.

  “I’ve got it.” I try to pull myself up, but I’m not strong enough.

  “It doesn’t look that way from here,” Christian says.

  After a few attempts, I make it onto the running board and manage to haul myself up from there.

  Christian hops in after me. “That seemed like a lot of work for no reason.”

  “I had a reason.”

  “Not a good one.” Cam starts the truck and shifts it into gear. The engine roars and the seat vibrates. The thing sounds more like a monster truck than a normal pickup.

  I cover my ears.

  Cam pats the top of the dashboard and drives out of the parking lot. “She’s not that loud.”

  We pass more farms, a Texaco gas station, and a diner with a blue neon sign on top that reads: THE BEST DINER IN THE WHOLE DARN STATE.

  This isn’t my typical Friday night. I should be at Tess’ house, angling for a corner of the mirror while we put on our makeup together and debate which party to hit first. Between the private schools and the public schools like ours, we usually had at least two or three options.

  Cameron turns off the main road and drives over the grass toward a cluster of cars parked in front of a long barn. A bonfire blazes off to the side. He pulls up behind a red pickup and pockets his keys.

  I look around outside. “Where’s the house?”

  Christian points to a steep hill next to the barn. “At the top.”

  There’s no way I’ll make it up that slope. “I’m not sure my knee can handle a hike yet.”

  “The party isn’t in the house. It’s a barn party,” Cam says, as if that will clear up any confusion.

  Barn party isn’t a term I heard a lot in DC.

  Christian reaches for the door handle, and I catch his arm. “Hold on. I’m not going anywhere until we’re clear about a few things.”

  “Okay. Lay it on us,” Christian says.

  Cam cuts in. “If you’re nervous—”

  “I’m not nervous.” Okay, that’s a lie. But I need this to sink in. “Number one: I don’t need babysitters.”

  Cam tries again. “We never said—”

  “I’m not finished. And number two: you both have to swear that you aren’t going to tell anyone the truth about how I injured my knee—not your coach, not your girlfriends, not even your priest. I want to focus on rehabbing my knee, not answering questions about my ex.”

  “No worries there,” Christian says. “We don’t have girlfriends and there aren’t any priests in Black Water. Only pastors.”

  “You’re missing the point.” I try a less subtle approach. “If you tell anyone what happened, I’ll slip Ex-Lax into your lunch on game day.”

  Cameron’s jaw drops. “That is wrong on so many levels.”

  Christian laughs. “She’s not serious.”

  “Try me.” I don’t know if the Twins are trustworthy. I want to believe they are, but the situation with Reed proves that my instincts aren’t as reliable as I thought.

  “Your secret is safe with us,” Cam says.

  “We’ll take it to the grave.” Christian hops out and waits for me to lower myself down.

  “If anyone asks, I fell down the stairs.” Technically, it’s true. “Don’t offer up any details,” I say as we cross the field. I need to keep the story simple. The more complicated it gets, the easier it will be for my cousins to make a mistake.

  “Don’t worry. We’ve got this,” Christian says.

  “If Christian doesn’t screw up,” Cam adds.

  “I’m not the one who forgot to switch his tie at homecoming last year. That’s how April caught us.”

  I get the feeling he’s talking about switching more than ties. “Please tell me you didn’t … Forget it. I don’t want the details.”

  “You sure? It’s a pretty good story.” Christian grins.

  “So is there anything I should know?” I walk between them, my head in line with their shoulders.

  “Don’t believe anything Titan tells you. He’s a show-off and a pro at getting into girls’…” Christian hesitates, trying to edit his side of the conversation.

  “Pants?” I finish for him.

  “Yeah. Those.”

  The bonfire near a red barn is right out of a children’s book. This one is a little shabby, and there’s a keg sitting on top of a barrel beside actual haystacks. Fifteen or twenty people lounge around the fire, sitting on lawn chairs or blankets. The girls are clad in leather jackets or cute down coats. Some of them are wearing cowboy boots, but they look comfortable in them, like they’re wearing sneakers.

  My dark-wash jeans, layered tees, and Dad’s leather jacket blend in well enough.

  “It’s about time.” A good-looking guy the size of an NFL player walks toward us. His hulking frame makes the Twins seem average-size. He’s wearing a Warriors letterman jacket over an untucked flannel shirt, jeans, and a baseball cap with an orange T on it. The scruff along his jawline adds to his white farm-boy vibe.

  “I thought you bailed.” The huge guy hooks his thumb around Cameron’s, and they do a weird handshake.

  “Our cousin just got into town.” Cam nods in my direction. “This is Peyton.”

  The guy grins and sweeps his eyes over me. “Did your dad name you after Peyton Manning?”

  It’s a question people ask all the time. “No. My parents just liked the name.” It was as close to the name of legendary soccer player Pelé as my mom would allow—a piece of information I’m not sharing with anyone in Football Country, USA.

  The guy leans closer. “I’m Titan. This is my place, so let me know if you want anything, and I’ll make it happen.”

  “Back off.” Christian steps in front of me and jabs Titan in the shoulder. “She’s our goddamned cousin.”

  “Just being friendly. Relax.” Titan tugs on his baseball cap. “You didn’t tell us she was hot.”

  Christian charges at him and Titan jumps back, hands raised. “Come on, man. I’m screwing around.”

  I grab Christian’s shirt and yank him toward me. Then I smile at Titan. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  “I need a beer,” Christian grumbles.

  As we walk to the barn, I take in the surroundings. Country music blares from a Bluetooth speaker perched on a bale of hay. Another dozen people hang out near the keg—girls flirting with other guys wearing quilted flannel coats or letterman jackets with jeans. Heads turn in our direction and people whisper.

  I study the dented silver keg and try to ignore them. I’m not usually self-conscious, but the RoboCop brace changes things. It makes me feel different, even though the attention I’m attracting probably has more to do with the fact that I’m new in town than my knee brace.

  “What’s up, Darius?” Christian nods at a lanky guy wearing a University of Kentucky Wildcats Basketball cap.

  Darius hands Christian and Cameron plastic cups and fills one for me. His tall brown frame towers over all of us. “You two played your asses off tonight.”

  Christian chugs the beer. “Don’t we always?”

  “That’s what I like about you, Christian. You’re a humble guy,” Darius says as he hands me a cup.

  “Thanks.”

  The Twins head for the bonfire. I slow down and let them walk ahead of me. They provide the perfect shield from all the strangers I don’t want to meet.

  Christian notices I’m lagging behind. “Come on, Peyton. We want to introduce you to everyone.”

  My cousins step aside and make room for me to stand between them. The people hanging out by the bonfire turn in my direction. Their expressions range from mildly curious to way too drunk to care.

  “This is our cousin, Peyt
on. The one who’s staying with us.” Cam sweeps his arm from one side of the group to the other. “Peyton, this is everybody—Grace, Jackson, Tyrell…” He skips April and Madison.

  Directly across from me, April stares with her mouth gaping open. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

  I flash her an exaggerated smile.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Christian asks her.

  April looks like she’s still processing the whole cousin thing, but she’s trying to make eye contact with Christian.

  “Maybe that’s bitch code for ‘nice to meet you,’” I say loudly.

  Cam bursts out laughing and April’s expression turns venomous. He ignores her and sits down next to Grace, like they’re friends.

  Christian picks up a beer from the six-pack next to April, cracks it open, and takes a swig without looking in her direction. “I heard about what happened. Don’t give my cousin any more shit.”

  For a split second, April’s alpha-chick facade slips. She catches herself and springs to her feet. “Is that what she told you?”

  Great. Now she thinks I went crying to the Twins.

  “If you want to ask me something, I’m standing right here.” I stay calm. It will drive her crazy.

  April puts her hands on her hips and glares at me, but it’s Christian’s attention she wants. “Your cousin was the one who was giving me shit,” she says in an annoying high-pitched drawl.

  Madison stands and positions herself next to April. The fur on the hood of her coat hits April in the face, and April swats it away.

  “It’s true,” Madison says. “We were minding our own business, and she started in on us.”

  “For no reason?” Cam asks. “That’s not Peyton’s style.”

  The Twins have spent an hour or two with me. They have no idea what is or isn’t my style, but Cam is right.

  “This is your fault, Grace.” April redirects her anger at the girl she was torturing in the bathroom.

  “Mine?” Grace stares back at her, wide-eyed.