Breaking Beautiful

by Jennifer Shaw Wolf

  I laugh. Completely off from the mood, but it’s a relief. Like letting go of a huge rock that’s been wedged in my chest. Freer than I have felt for a long time. I touch his arm gently. “We need to get you inside.”

  I open my car door and then walk around to his side. We hold on to each other and stumble into the clinic. The bright lights and the stark white interior are harsh and blinding. The waiting room is full—a crying baby, an old woman with a walker, a little boy playing a video game. It all feels unreal after everything that’s happened.

  “He’s hurt,” I tell the nurse at the desk.

  She looks at Blake’s caved-in shoulder and immediately takes him back. I stand there alone, wearing nothing but a T-shirt and my underwear, wet and shivering. The other people in the waiting room stare, but I’m too numb to care.

  “Allie, thank God you finally made it.” Mom’s embrace nearly knocks me over. I blink at her, trying to remember why she’s here. “You’re soaking wet and freezing. And where are your pants?” Her eyes are shocked, but she doesn’t make me explain. She flags down the nurse who’s taking the old woman’s blood pressure. “Do you have something dry she can wear?”

  A nurse brings me a blanket and a pair of blue scrubs that feel like they just came out of the dryer. I wrap up in them gratefully. “How is he?”

  The nurse shakes her head. “Not good. He’s having a hard time breathing. But we can’t get an ambulance through. There are too many trees down. Your dad and a couple of other guys went out in his truck to see if they could clear the road.”

  It takes me a second to realize she means Andrew and not Blake. When it hits me, I run for the curtained room where Andrew lies. He’s pale, his breathing sounds forced, and he’s still. Andrew’s body is always in motion, even when he sleeps, so the stillness scares me more than anything.

  I ignore everyone else in the room, climb around the wires and tubes hooked to his body, and lie down next to my brother. I lay my head against his chest and focus on his raspy breaths and the beating of his heart.

  I stay that way. The nurses come in and out. Mom tries to reach Dad on his cell phone. When Blake comes in, his arm in a sling, I don’t move. I barely register Grandma Joyce’s hand on my arm before they leave. The only thing that matters is the beating of Andrew’s heart next to mine, the way it did for nearly seven months, the way it has for the last eighteen years.

  Chapter

  49

  The clock on the wall says 3:45.

  Andrew’s chest heaves and his eyelids flutter. “Allie.” He says my name quietly enough that Mom can’t hear but more clearly than I’ve ever heard him say it. “I’m sorry. Never meant for you to get hurt.”

  “Shh, it’s okay. I’m not hurt now.” I squeeze his hand, trying to soothe him, thinking he’s delirious with fever.

  His voice drifts. “You were grounded, weren’t supposed to be in the truck.”

  “Straight home after the dance. No exceptions.”

  Andrew strokes his finger across the scar on the back of my head. “Didn’t mean for you to get hurt. Couldn’t let him keep hurting you.”

  “Don’t go. Stay home with me. For our birthday.”

  The pleading in his eyes cuts into my heart. “You don’t understand. I want to. I just can’t, okay. Trip would be furious. He’s been planning tonight forever.”

  His fists clench and his whole body shakes. “I understand, more than you think I understand. I know what he—” His fingers tangle in the lace on my sweater. It slides off and exposes my back and a swollen mass of purple and red—a testament to my lie.

  I wrap it back around me fast, but he’s already seen. “I fell and—”

  “No.” He breathes in slow and deliberate. The softness in his eyes is gone.

  Trip barrels through the door, huge and intimidating. “Allie, get out here! The limo is waiting! Everyone is waiting.”

  “I’m coming!” I grab the purse off my doorknob and whisper to Andrew, “Don’t tell, please. I have everything figured out. It’s not that bad. I’m okay.”

  Andrew grips my arm with more strength than I thought he had. “Let me help you.”

  I jerk my arm away. “What can you do?”

  His face falls.

  “Now, Allie!” Trip crosses the floor in three quick steps.

  Andrew levels a hard gaze at Trip, but Trip doesn’t even acknowledge him. He doesn’t hear Andrew whisper, “I won’t let him keep hurting you.”

  Realization pours into my chest like icy seawater and flows through my body until I’m colder than I ever was in the cave. Andrew was home alone while Mom and I were at the inn. Andrew knows cars. He would know how to mess up Trip’s brakes.

  Andrew cut Trip’s brakes.

  Andrew killed Trip.

  I forced my brother to be a murderer to protect me. The single damning piece of evidence, my shoe, and I led James right to it. I bury my head against Andrew’s chest. “I’m sorry. It was my fault, always my fault.”

  “No.” He pushes against my face and his eyes catch mine. “Not always your fault.” He takes in a ragged breath. “I didn’t mean for him to die. Didn’t know he was going by the cliff. Just wanted him to know what it felt like to be helpless. Wanted to give you a chance to get away.”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you,” I whisper.

  He strokes my cheek and I feel his strength flowing into me. His voice gets quieter. “Time to let it go. The tide comes in and takes everything away. Like it never happened.” His voice fades.

  “Andrew?” I panic. “Andrew?” I lay my head against his chest. His heartbeat is slow, but steady.

  “Shhh. Time to rest.” He wraps his arm around me. I close my eyes and let the exhaustion overtake me.

  .........

  Sometime just before dawn Caitlyn comes in the room. She’s wearing a long plaid coat over shorts, a T-shirt, and purple boots. Her hair is tucked under a matching purple hat. Her eyes are red and she looks like she’s ready to shed another gallon of tears, but she puts her hand on her hip and says angrily, “Andrew.”

  His eyelids flutter open when he hears her, and his face settles into a guilty grin.

  She takes a step toward the bed. “If you ever do that to me again …”

  I get out of the bed and give up the place that rightfully belongs to her. I know she’ll take care of him.

  Mom stirs when I stand up. “Andrew seems better,” she says. “Why don’t you go home and get some rest? Dad will be back soon.” I nod and squeeze her hand on the way out.

  Blake is sleeping on a couch in the waiting room. I thought he had left. I lean over and kiss him good-bye on the cheek. He doesn’t even stir.

  Mom’s car is still outside where I left it. The keys are still in the ignition. Pacific Cliffs is small-town like that—a place where people still leave their keys in their cars. A place where they leave their doors unlocked at night. A place where people feel safe.

  Without knowing where I’m going, I drive past town, where people have gathered to talk about the storm and clean stray branches out of the street, past the mix of old houses and vacation condos, past the high school and the police station. I finally stop at the top of the cliff road and pull into the parking lot.

  I get out and sit on the bench beside the plaque overlooking the ocean. The flowers and notes that were left behind by kids from the school are gone, blown away by the storm. Only Hannah’s sad, soggy teddy bear remains behind.

  The waves are gentle. The wind has blown itself out. The high tide has receded back into an extremely low tide. The water is out so far that I can see kids walking along the beach looking for treasures. I wonder if any of them will find the tigereye or the ring. A van with a commercial diver’s logo on the side is parked in the sand to the right of the cliff. I wonder how long it will take them to find Trip’s truck.

  I sit watching the ocean, without moving, even when the black Charger parks behind me. I know Detective Weeks is coming to arrest me,
but I’m through being afraid. I’m through running away.

  Detective Weeks sits down beside me. “This is a great view.”

  “It’s the most beautiful spot in Pacific Cliffs,” I answer. I wonder if he’ll handcuff me and read me my rights like on TV. I wonder what the gossip will be in the cafeteria and in the halls at school. I wonder what it will be like to stand trial or be in prison.

  “That it is.”

  I take a deep breath and prepare to confess to everything so Andrew doesn’t have to take the blame for my mistake. “Detective Weeks, I wanted to—”

  He holds his hand up to stop me. “Before you say anything, you should know, Trip Phillips’s death is going to be ruled an accident.” He sounds so sure that a spot of hope cuts through the gray in my chest.

  “But after everything you said last night—” My head hurts too much to try to figure anything else out.

  He shakes his head. “We need to continue this discussion at the police station.” He stands up and gestures to the police car. “I could give you a ride, if that’s okay with you?”

  I nod and follow him. The second time around, the front seat of the Charger seems less ominous. For a second, I wonder who saw me get into it this time and what the new rumors are going to be, but I have so many other things going through my head that the thought slips through without sticking.

  At the door of the police station I meet Mr. and Mrs. Phillips. She’s wearing a fur coat. He’s wearing an expression of triumph. The divers must have already found the truck. Detective Weeks must have lied to me, to get me to come with him. Why didn’t he just let me confess? Maybe he wants me to do it in front of Trip’s parents so they’ll see that he did his job.

  Chief Milton and Detective Weeks usher us back to Chief Milton’s office. It’s bigger than the office that Detective Weeks was using. The walls are covered with commendations, certificates, and pictures. The bookshelf is full of books. On the desk is a picture of Chief Milton with his wife and three buck-toothed kids.

  Mr. and Mrs. Phillips and I sit on chairs around the desk. Chief Milton sits behind the desk; Detective Weeks takes a chair to his right.

  Chief Milton looks around the room, takes a deep breath, and begins. “We called you here to let you know that we’re officially closing the investigation into the accident that killed Trip Phillips. We’re ruling his death accidental and closing the case.”

  Mr. Phillips jumps to his feet. “You can’t do that!” he roars. “My son was murdered.” He steps toward me and sticks his finger in my face. His face is purple with rage. I shrink back into my chair. “She killed him. I demand that you take her into custody!”

  Detective Weeks stands between me and Mr. Phillips. “Sit down, Mr. Phillips. The divers didn’t find anything. There isn’t enough evidence to—”

  Mr. Phillips gets into his face. “Don’t tell me what to do! She killed my son!”

  “No.” Mrs. Phillips’s voice from the chair in the corner starts out small but gets stronger. “You killed him. You taught him that whatever he did was okay. You gave him everything he wanted. You showed him it was okay to step on people to get what he wanted. You showed him—”

  “How dare you!” Mr. Phillips lunges for his wife, but Detective Weeks catches his arm and holds him back. “How dare you!” he sputters again, fighting to get to her, but Detective Weeks holds him fast.

  Mrs. Phillips stands up. Her voice trembles, but she speaks clearly. “Enough people have been hurt. It’s over.”

  Mr. Phillips looks at her with an expression that’s somewhere between shock and anger. She walks to the doorway and then pauses. His expression changes to horror as she lets the edge of her fur coat slip, just a little. Enough so I can see the bruise on the back of her neck. Enough so that I understand.

  After they leave, I turn to Detective Weeks and Chief Milton. “You saw”—I swallow hard—“you both saw what was on her neck.”

  Chief Milton shakes his head sadly. “We can’t do anything about it until she’s ready to step forward and press charges.”

  I swallow again, my heart hurting for Mrs. Phillips.

  “But you might have grounds for a harassment charge against Mr. Phillips,” Detective Weeks says. “James confessed to everything last night when we arrested him for starting the fire in the gym. He said Mr. Phillips paid him to follow you and to put the notes in your locker.” He stands up. “We’ll give you some time to think about it.”

  “Allie.” Blake comes to the door of the office, breathless, his arm in a sling. “I saw your mom’s car out by the cliff and I—” He looks at Detective Weeks and Chief Milton. “Is everything okay?”

  “I think so.” I look up at Detective Weeks.

  He nods, then says, “I have a few more questions, Allie, for clarification on my report. If you’ll follow me.”

  I hang back. “I don’t understand.”

  He smiles patiently. “Without a truck or a body, none of the evidence I gathered means anything. I have no choice but to close the investigation. But I would like to know what happened to you that night and before. He looks into my eyes. “I mean, whatever you remember.”

  Blake hugs me with one arm. He stiffens like it hurts him, but he won’t let go. “It’s time to tell the truth,” he whispers into my hair. “I’ll be waiting outside.”

  I squeeze Blake’s hand. Then I follow Detective Weeks into his office. I sit down, take a deep breath, and let my memories flow out with a tide of tears.

  Chapter

  50

  “I got you something. For your birthday. And to wear to the dance.” Andrew’s new voice sounds deeper, more mature, less electronic. It fits him.

  “Don’t you mean our birthday?” I blot my lipstick and turn away from the mirror to face him.

  “I decided you could have this one. I think you earned it.” He pushes a little box across his tray toward me.

  “And you didn’t?” I pick up the box, lift the lid, and pull out a heart-shaped pendant, pale green, on a silver chain.

  “Periodot, it’s our birthstone. It’s supposed to be a gem of healing.” He looks up at me and his eyes soften.

  Since the night at the clinic, we haven’t talked about it—what really happened to Trip. It’s a secret that only we share. I’ll never tell anyone else and he’ll never tell anyone else. Being in the womb with someone for nearly seven months creates an unbreakable bond.

  “I love it.” I turn toward the mirror and fasten it around my neck. “It’s perfect.” I turn my head and watch it catch the light in the mirror. It almost matches the dress I chose for cotillion this year: short, simple, and blue green, my favorite color. “But you should be saving your money for school.”

  “Full-ride scholarship, remember?” He smoothes his tux with his good hand.

  I look at how handsome he is, how grown-up, and I have to swallow a lump of tears. “Are you nervous?” He’s leaving for Stanford next week. My heart aches every time I think about Andrew going away to college—the two of us, who have never been apart, separated by so many miles.

  “No. Yes. Maybe a little.” His electronic voice is emotionless, but his hand trembles.

  “I’m glad Caitlyn will be there to keep you out of trouble.” She’s going with him on a full-ride scholarship, too. They applied together and they’ve been planning this for months. Who knew a girl with absolutely no fashion sense could be as smart as Andrew? Then again, she saw something in him that no other girl did.

  “Allie, Andrew, you’re going to be late.” Dad’s voice floats down the hall.

  Andrew reaches for my hand. “Are you sure you’re up to this?”

  I nod my head and try to look brave. “If you can leave home and go almost a thousand miles away to college, I think I can make it through one more cotillion.”

  His eyes meet mine and he squeezes my hand. “I’ll miss you, sis.”

  I swallow hard. “I’ll miss you, too.”

  “Hey, babe.” Caitlyn breezes int
o the room. “Are you about ready?”

  I release Andrew’s hand and move out of the way so she can kiss him.

  “You look amazing,” he says as she pulls away.

  “Thanks.” She beams at him. She’s wearing a gold sequined dress with swirls of brown and orange all over it. It looks like a mix between a tiger pelt and a retro ’70s disco dress. When she smiles at my brother, I wonder why it took me so long to realize Caitlyn is beautiful. She sits down on his lap. “Shall we go?” He nods and backs up his wheelchair.

  I follow them into the living room and stand by Mom while Dad takes pictures. “You look very pretty,” she says, and wraps her arm around my waist. I lean into her shoulder. Five months of counseling and a lot of long talks with both her and Dad have gone a long way toward fixing things between us. It’s going be hard for me to leave for college in a couple of weeks, but at least I’ll be close enough to come home on the weekends. I had to rewrite my college application. No one ever saw my suicide note. The day Andrew came home from the hospital. I took it to the mouth of the cave and burned it. I decided the ocean already held too many of my secrets.

  When we’re done taking pictures, I follow Andrew and Caitlyn to the limo and climb in after them by myself.

  .........

  Mrs. Phillips greets us as we walk in the door to the inn. She’s wearing a silvery blue dress that matches her eyes. Her arms are bare and tan from her recent trip to Florida. Someone behind us whispers, “Divorce looks good on her.” I have to agree with them.

  Andrew and Caitlyn head for the dance floor, but I stop and take in the effect. Blue and green lights dance across the dark wood floor. The wind machine makes Blake’s sail paintings billow like they were at sea. The ballroom at the inn looks almost as magical as the high school gym did the night Blake told me he loved me for the first time.