Broken Dreams (Spiraling Book 2)

by H. L. Karhoff

  Sneaking back into the kitchen, I poured myself a glass of milk, returned to the pantry, shut the door, and retrieved my birthday cookies. The large storage closet had shelves on either side with a bare wall at the back. I sat against the wall with my cookies and milk on the floor beside me. Much better. I folded my legs under myself, opened the cookies, pulled one out, and twisted the two halves apart.

  Five cookies into the package, the panty door opened. I froze mid-bite and looked up, expecting to see my mother. Instead, I found Carter.

  He folded his arms in front of his chest, tapped his foot on the floor, and glowered at me. “Hiding from your own party?” He shook his head. “Tsk. Tsk.”

  “Oh, shut up,” I said. “It’s not like you want to be out there either.”

  Carter smiled. Walking into the pantry, he shut the door and joined me on the floor. “It’s like a Who’s Who of snobs and bitches out there.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “Why did your mom invite all these people?”

  “They used to be my friends.”

  “Doesn’t your mom know they’re not anymore?”

  “Guess not.” I shrugged, licking the cream from the inside of another cookie.

  “You think maybe you should tell her?” Carter asked.

  “Then she’ll want to know who my friends are. Can you picture the look on my mom’s face when she met Maimy? Or Claire? She’d freak.”

  He chuckled. “You’ve got a point.”

  “I know.” I shoved another cookie into my mouth and talked around it. “Not that I’m complaining, but why aren’t you hanging out with Joy?”

  “After you disappeared, her mom homed in on us like a cruise missile. She wanted to know how Joy and I know each other, how long we’ve been friends, which church I go to.”

  “Sorry. I should have warned you. Aunt Jane can be super intense.”

  “No kidding. I felt like I’d been put in front of the Inquisition.”

  I off-handedly quoted a line from a television show about not expecting the Spanish Inquisition before sucking milk-soaked cookie off my fingers.

  Carter chuckled. “How do you know Monty Python?”

  “I watched it with Devon the other day.”

  “Have you seen ‘The Holy Grail’?”

  I shook my head. “He couldn’t find it.”

  “It’s hilarious.” Carter launched into a string of quotes that resulted in me squirting milk from my nose.

  “Ow.” I rubbed my sore nostrils.

  Carter made a disgusted face. “Milk snot. Yummy.”

  “It’s not funny.”

  “It’s kind of funny.” He grinned.

  “No, it’s not.” I pouted. “It really hurt.”

  “Poor Tori.” He stuck out his bottom lip, mocking me.

  “Shut up.” I swatted at him.

  Carter dodged and laughed. I swatted him again, smacking his arm.

  “Ow.” He grabbed his arm. “I think you broke it.”

  “Oh, I did not.”

  “Look at this.” Using his other hand, he lifted his arm and wiggled it like a limp spaghetti noodle. “See, it’s broken.”

  “Whatever.” I rolled my eyes and chuckled.

  Carter and I spent the rest of the party in the pantry. We didn’t realize everyone else had left until my mom opened the door to put the leftover potato chips away.

  “What are you two doing in here?” she asked.

  “Hiding,” I answered.

  Mom frowned. “Well, the party’s over so you can quit hiding.”

  “Sorry, Mom.” I stood and wiped my hands on my jeans. “It’s just . . . I’m not really friends with those girls anymore. They kind of hate me.”

  “Well, if you told me about what’s going on in your life, I would have known that.” Mom’s voice wavered as if she were about to cry. “But you won’t even talk to me anymore.”

  I glanced at Carter as he stood next to me, silently begging him to rescue me from my mother.

  “I’m going to take off,” he said.

  Traitor!

  “It was a nice party, Mrs. Blackwell.” Carter paused in the pantry doorway and smiled at my mom. “Thanks for inviting me.”

  “You’re welcome, Carter,” Mom replied. “Thank you for coming.”

  Carter turned back to me and grinned before scooting past my mom. I picked up the half-empty package of cookies, closed it, and set it on the shelf while I waited for the next mile of my mother’s guilt trip. But she didn’t say anything. She set the chip bags on a shelf, turned, and walked away.

  My shoulders slumped. That’s cold, Mom. Real cold.

  Twenty-One

  Mom stood beside the king-size bed, her belly brushing against a large box. She reached into the box, retrieved a tiny blue jumper, folded it, and set it on the bed. I hesitated in the doorway, my hand raised to knock.

  Why am I doing this? She’s just going to lecture me. Maybe I should act like everything’s fine. She can’t stay mad at me forever, right?

  Mom glanced at the door.

  Crap.

  “Hello, Victoria.” Mom lifted another newborn gown from the box. “How can I disappoint you this evening?”

  I dropped my hand and stepped into her room. “You didn’t disappoint me, Mom.”

  “It certainly appeared that way.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I went to a lot of trouble planning that party and you acted like a spoiled, ungrateful brat the entire time.”

  “Except for Joy, none of the girls you invited are my friends, Mom,” I said. “They don’t even like me.”

  “Kennedy Phillips has been your best friend for years.”

  “Not anymore.”

  Mom turned to face me. “Since when?”

  “For a while.”

  “You two have been inseparable since kindergarten, Tori. Don’t tell me you let something silly get between you.”

  I frowned. “It wasn’t silly.”

  “I’m sure whatever happened couldn’t have been that bad. You probably overreacted. Have you thought about apologizing?”

  So, you assume it’s my fault? I scowled. Why wouldn’t it be? I’m a spoiled, ungrateful brat, right? Nice to know what you really think of me, Mom. My eye twitched and tears pressed against the bridge of my nose.

  Mom’s attention returned to the stupid box of stupid baby clothes. I meandered out of the room feeling worse than I had before apologizing. The guilt had gone, replaced by the same disappointment I felt every time I talked to my mother. Walking into the kitchen, I grabbed the new cordless phone off the charger and carried it into the backyard.

  “Hello?” Devon answered the phone.

  “Hi, sweetie,” I replied.

  “Hey, baby doll. What’s wrong?”

  “So, my mom threw this surprise party for me and . . .” I told him everything that had happened at the party. “I felt bad, so I told my mom I was sorry, and she called me an ungrateful brat. She says I’m spoiled, and it’s my fault Kenn and I aren’t friends anymore because there’s no way Kenn did anything wrong. I must have overreacted about something stupid the way I always do.”

  “It’s not your fault,” Devon said, his voice soft and comforting. “You know that. You didn’t overreact. And it’s not your fault your mom invited a bunch of bitches to your birthday party. Or that they antagonized you. I don’t blame you for hiding. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to protect you from those assholes.”

  “You couldn’t.” I sniffled.

  “Don’t cry, baby doll. It’ll be all right.”

  “I’m just . . .” I sobbed. “I’m so sick of this place. I don’t want to be here anymore.”

  “Do you want me to come get you?”

  “Uh-huh.” I nodded even though I knew he couldn’t see me. “I’ll tell my mom I’m going for a walk or something.”

  “I’ll be right there.” He was quiet for a moment before he added, “I love you, baby doll.”

 
; “Love you, too.” I sniffled.

  Hanging up the phone, I deposited it onto the charger as I passed through the house. It would take Devon a few minutes to drive into town, but I didn’t want to wait inside. Instead, I walked to the corner and sat on the curb.

  When Devon’s truck turned off Main Street, I stood. As soon as the truck stopped, I opened the door, climbed inside, and slid across the seat. Devon wrapped his arms around me. His lips pressed to my forehead.

  “I love you, baby doll,” he said.

  “I love you, too,” I whimpered.

  Devon held me while I whined about Mom screwing up my birthday and Dad forgetting altogether. He didn’t say much other than offer reassurances that none of the suck was my fault. I knew it was because he couldn’t relate, which made me feel worse.

  “Don’t worry about me,” Devon said. “Complain all you want.”

  “But—”

  “If you need to talk, Tori, go ahead. It doesn’t bother me.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah.”

  He smiled, but there was something behind the smile that worried me. So, I kept my mouth shut and folded myself into his side, my head tucked under his chin. We sat in silence. His breath hitched now and then. I didn’t ask him about it even though I should have. He rubbed my arm, squeezed me tighter, and kissed the top of my head. Then he settled.

  When I felt certain my mom would wonder where I’d gone, I kissed him goodnight and slid out of the truck. I walked halfway past the first house before I turned around. Devon hadn’t started his truck. I wondered if he’d decided to wait for me to get home before firing up the loud engine. In the cab, out of the main glow of the streetlight, he was mostly in shadow. I could still see him though. He tossed something on the dash before putting his other hand to his mouth. After a second, he looked at me. I smiled and waved. He waved back and started the truck.

  The loud roar of the engine echoed through the quiet neighborhood. I blew him a kiss as he pulled away from the curb. He grinned back. Then he drove down the street out of view. I turned toward my house. When I walked inside, Mom sat in the front room reading a baby book.

  “Where have you been?” She raised her eyes.

  “I went for a walk,” I answered. “It’s a nice night.”

  “It’s after midnight, Tori.”

  “Really?” I looked at the clock. “I didn’t realize I’d been gone that long. Sorry, Mom.”

  “No more late-night walks.”

  “Okay.” I shot her a smile and grabbed the banister on the stairs. “I’m going to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  She stared at me as if debating whether to start an argument. Then she sighed. “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

  “Goodnight, Mom.”

  Twenty-Two

  I dug through the bowl of chalky hearts, reading the messages printed on each one. Devon had pocketed them while clearing off the clearance rack at the grocery store. He claimed the manager wanted him to throw everything away, so it wasn’t technically stealing. I doubted his manager would see it the same way. The whole thing made me wonder what else he’d stolen, but I tried not to think about it too much.

  “No, thanks.” Devon shook his head when I dropped a heart on his book.

  “Read it,” I said.

  He sighed, picked up the heart, and turned it to see the message. “‘I love you.’ Love you, too, baby doll.” The heart back in the bowl, he returned to his book.

  I set a second heart on his arm. His eyes focused on the heart before he tossed it into the others. Not bothering to read the messages, I slid three more down the spine of his book.

  He scowled at me. “Please, stop.”

  “I’m bored.” I retrieved the candy and plunked it back in the bowl.

  “Okay.”

  “Let’s do something.”

  “We are doing something. I’m reading. You’re playing with candy.”

  “No. Let’s do something together.”

  “All right.” He closed his book and looked at me. “What would you like to do?”

  “I don’t know.” I shrugged.

  His brow furrowed. “Of course not.”

  “What do you want to do?”

  “I’m doing it.” He raised his book.

  My left eyebrow arched. “Really?”

  “Yes.” He reopened the book to the page he’d been reading.

  I set the bowl aside and turned toward him. “Sure there’s nothing else you’d rather do?”

  “I’d like to finish this book before you graduate high school,” he said without looking at me. “Or at least this chapter.”

  “Fine.” I slumped down, twiddled my thumbs, and looked around the room for something to keep me occupied.

  “Come here.” Devon extended his arm.

  Scooting closer, I leaned against his side as he wrapped his arm around me.

  “I’ll read it to you,” he said. “That work?”

  “I guess,” I grumbled.

  “You might like it.”

  “Doubt it.” I blew a strand of hair out of my face.

  “Just give it a chance, okay?”

  “Whatever.” I scowled, upset he’d chosen a book over me. I should have just stayed home. Why’d he ask me to come over if he was just going to ignore me? Well, technically, I invited myself, but still. He could have said he was busy.

  “The tower loomed over the blood-soaked battlefield,” Devon read, using a theatrical-trailer voice, complete with dramatic pauses to get my attention. “Etilder slid from his horse. He approached the narrow door, stepping over fallen comrades. A red hand grasped Etilder’s boot. Luen moaned. Etilder looked at the aged man. His intestines spilled from his gut. He could not be saved.”

  My nose wrinkled. “Gross.”

  Devon looked at me and grinned. “Etilder lifted his bow, notched an arrow, and fired into the old man’s eye. Luen’s arm fell limp. ‘Be with the Lord, old man,’ Etilder said. He proceeded through the muck. Onward toward the tower. The battle’s lone survivor, he knew he must kill the queen. Her death would end the war. Stop the plague that threatened his village.” Devon glanced at me.

  I nodded for him to continue. The sooner he finished the chapter, the sooner we could do something less boring.

  “Etilder’s limbs grew heavier with each step. The queen’s magic surrounded the tower with a dense, sleep-inducing fog. Several men had fallen prey to it upon the army’s arrival. While dreaming, ogres tore them apart and painted the tower’s base with their blood. Etilder withdrew the talisman Luen had given him from under his furs. The elderly man claimed the metal disk warded against black spells, yet fatigue threatened to overtake Etilder.”

  Devon shifted his weight into a more comfortable position. As soon as he’d settled, I snuggled into his side again.

  “See, it’s not so awful, is it?” he asked.

  “If you say so,” I answered.

  Chuckling, Devon returned to the book. “He pressed on, bow drawn and ready should he stumble upon any foes. The metal door appeared farther in front of him than it had when Etilder began. ‘Another trick of the queen,’ Etilder thought.” Devon reached over to the table, picked up his cigarettes, and pulled one out. “An ogre roared.”

  I tensed, lifting my head from Devon’s shoulder.

  “Etilder searched the blurred field for the source.” Devon’s voice lowered slightly. “To the east, he spotted the giant. It advanced at a sluggish pace, dragging a man’s torso by an arm. Etilder recognized the torso’s armor. It belonged to Driel, a man of immense stature who had boasted of his many feats the night before. Etilder’s stomach turned. He aimed an arrow at the fiend’s skull and gulped. If a man with Driel’s strength had fallen, he had little hope of besting the giant.”

  I held my breath.

  “The arrow released.” Devon paused for effect. “Etilder watched it soar.” Another pause. “It met its mark. The ogre dropped Driel’s torso and swayed. The ground shook when
the beast fell. Etilder heard a shriek from the tower. He swung to see the door only feet from his position. Reaching out an arm, he grasped the cold iron latch.” Devon closed the book.

  “Why’d you stop?” I asked.

  “It’s the end of the chapter.” He lit his cigarette.

  “But what happens next? Does Etilder kill the queen?”

  “I don’t know.” Devon chuckled. “I thought you wanted to go do something.”

  “I want to know if Etilder kills the queen.”

  He grinned and reopened the book. “All right. I’ll keep reading then.”

  Etilder’s journey up the tower took another chapter. He encountered several obstacles including goblin knights, human guards, and magical traps. At one point, he stepped on an enchanted stair that made him think he was back in his village and there was no plague. If Luen hadn’t appeared, Etilder would have gotten lost in the vision.

  I squished myself into Devon’s side, waiting impatiently for Etilder to meet the queen. The fictional hero was about to open the door to the queen’s chamber when the trailer door opened. Devon closed the book and took off his glasses, stuffing them in his pocket before either Jake or Jeremiah spotted them.

  “Hey,” Devon said.

  “Yo.” Jake nodded, plopping into the comfy armchair by the front door.

  “Hey.” Jeremiah plodded to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. It was no wonder Chase never had food.

  “What up?” Jake asked.

  “Just hanging out.” Devon lit the cigarette he’d tucked behind his ear. “What are you and the giant up to?”

  “Took the girls to that festival over at the amphitheater,” Jake said.

  “Did you leave them there?” I asked.

  “No,” Jake answered. “They’re over at Lex’s.”

  “Oh.” I slid my feet to the floor.

  Jeremiah shuffled in from the kitchen with two beers, a bag of pretzels, and cookies. He shoved a beer at Jake before he flopped onto the couch beside me, causing my cushion to rise, and nodded at the book on Devon’s lap. “What’s that?”