Broken Dreams (Spiraling Book 2)

by H. L. Karhoff

  Ignoring everything else, I wrapped my fingers around the pill bottle and pulled it out. The writing had mostly rubbed off, but I could still read it well enough to make out the name of the pharmacy, Devon’s name, and “Fluoxetine 20mg.”

  What’s Fluoxetine? I turned the bottle around in my hand to see if I could make out any other writing. The rest was too smudged or faded.

  “What are you doing?”

  The sound of Devon’s voice startled me. I jumped, dropped the pill bottle and his pants, and spun to face him. He sat up on the bed and eyed the bottle rolling across the floor until it stopped. Then he raised his eyes to meet mine.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” he demanded.

  “I—I um . . .” I stepped back. “What’s Flu . . . Flux . . . that?” I pointed at the pill bottle.

  “None of your fucking business. That’s what it is.”

  I backed up toward the door, jumping when my back touched his dresser.

  “What are you doing going through my pockets?” he growled. “Looking for something specific or snooping?”

  “I was curious.” My voice shook when I answered. “You—You said you didn’t go to the doctor, but you’ve been taking pills and . . .”

  Devon stood. I stopped talking and watched him carefully. He set his jaw, inhaling through his nose. I could hear the quiet growl in his breath, see the tension in his arms and shoulders. When he moved closer, I sidestepped out of the way.

  “I’m not going to hurt you, Tori,” he barked.

  “I know,” I replied with zero confidence in the words.

  He opened his dresser drawers from top to bottom, getting dressed as he retrieved each piece of clothing from a different drawer. After he’d finished, he picked up the pill bottle, stuffed it in his pocket, and grabbed his dirty jeans from where I’d dropped them. Then he looked at me.

  “Get dressed. I’ll take you home.”

  He left the room. I took a deep breath and exhaled. My clothes scattered the floor. As I pulled them on, I tried to think of a way to apologize without angering Devon further. Maybe if I act like nothing happened, he’ll get over it after a while. Not mention it or ask him about the pills or anything. Keep my mouth shut. Yeah. That’s what I’ll do. Keep my mouth shut.

  “You ready?” he called from somewhere down the hall.

  “Just about,” I answered.

  I straightened my hair as best I could, pulled it back in a messy bun, and secured it with the ponytail holder I’d originally set out to find.

  “I thought you were just about ready?” Devon stepped into the open door.

  “I had to fix my hair,” I said. “Somebody tangled it all up.” I smiled, hoping the reminder of our earlier activities would lighten his mood.

  He didn’t smile back. He stared blankly. “Okay.”

  I frowned. “Devon, I’m sorry.”

  “It’s fine. Just don’t go through my shit again.” He turned from the doorway and started down the hall.

  I rushed after him. “Please, stop. I don’t want you to be mad at me. I know I shouldn’t have gone through your pockets, but you’ve been different since you got back, and I thought if I knew what was wrong, I could help. I’m worried about you.”

  “Don’t be.”

  “I can’t help it. I love you.”

  Devon stopped and took a deep breath before looking at me. “I’m fine, Tori, and you do help.”

  “How?”

  “You just do.”

  I had no idea what he meant. Staring at him, I considered asking, but decided against it. Instead, I asked the more pressing question, “Are we okay?”

  “Sure.” He nodded.

  My lip quivered as he turned away from me. It’s my own fault. He’s got every reason to be mad. I would be, too.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered.

  “Just . . .” He shook his head and sighed. “Come on. I’ll take you home, and we’ll figure it out later.”

  Twenty-Five

  I sat on the arm of the sofa, sketchpad in my lap, and a nearly spent lump of charcoal clutched in my hand. Carter glanced at me from the corner of his eye.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “Drawing,” I answered.

  “Drawing what?”

  “You.”

  “Why?” His brow scrunched.

  “Because I need to practice drawing people with charcoal and you’re here.”

  “To play Final Fantasy, not model for you.”

  “But you’re such a good model.” I set down the charcoal, grabbed the edges of my sketchpad, and turned it around to show him.

  Carter paused the game to look at the picture I’d drawn. It wasn’t finished; I needed to add detail and fix the mess he called hair, but I was proud of it.

  “Not bad,” he said.

  “Thanks.” I smiled. “Want to see the one I did of the library?”

  “Sure.”

  I slid down on the couch cushion beside him and flipped through the pages of my sketchbook. Normally, I hid most of my drawings, but I wasn’t concerned about Carter seeing them. He’d never judged me, even when I did stupid things or hung out all day in sweats with no makeup. My blackened fingers smudged page corners as I searched my recent drawings for the town library.

  “That’s awesome,” Carter said when I found it.

  “I thought you’d like it.” I smiled. “You said it was your favorite building in town.”

  “I think it looks kind of like a castle.”

  “It does.” I lay my arm across the opposite side of the sketchbook and tore out the page with the library. “Here. You can have it.”

  “Thanks.” He took the sheet and studied it.

  Closing my sketchpad, I set it to the side and chewed the inside of my lip. I’d been debating whether to ask Carter about the pills I’d found in Devon’s pocket. He set the sheet down on the coffee table, picked up the game controller, and resumed his game.

  “Carter?” I tried to sound as casual as possible. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Shoot.” He kept his eyes on the screen.

  “What’s Floxatin?”

  “Why?”

  “I’m just curious.”

  “I doubt that.”

  “I am. I saw it somewhere and I’m curious what it is.”

  He side-eyed me. “Don’t give me that. I know where you saw it.”

  I looked off to the other side. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “You do too know what I’m talking about, and I’ll tell you the same thing I tell you every time you ask me something he doesn’t want you to know: ask him.”

  My shoulders slumped, and I pouted. “I already did.”

  “What did he say?”

  “That it’s none of my effing business.”

  “All right. Then that’s what it is.”

  I frowned, folding my arms across my chest. “Thanks a lot, Carter. God. You’re so frustrating sometimes.”

  “Why is that?” he asked.

  “Because you always take his side.”

  “I’m not on anyone’s side. I’m just not getting in the middle. If he doesn’t want you to know something, I’m not going to tell you. How would you feel if I told him everything you tell me?”

  “I kind of assumed you did.”

  Carter paused the game and looked squarely at me. “I don’t.”

  “Good to know.”

  He turned back to the television with a sigh. “You’re kind of frustrating sometimes, too, you know.”

  “Me? Why?”

  “You make all these assumptions about stuff. Like Dev. Maybe if you asked him about the Fluoxetine when he hasn’t just caught you snooping through his pockets, he might tell you what it’s for.”

  I blushed. “I didn’t think about that.”

  “Didn’t figure you did.”

  I slouched, twiddling my thumbs, and considered what Carter had said. He was right. As usual. That was another thing
I found frustrating about him. No one should have been right that often. It wasn’t fair.

  “Couldn’t you just tell me?” I asked.

  “No.” Carter shook his head.

  The front door opened. I glanced over the back of the sofa as my stepfather walked inside. Like a hawk homing in on prey, his gaze snapped to Carter and me on the couch.

  “What are you two doing?” James asked.

  “Hanging out,” I answered.

  “What’d you get on the sofa?” James’ eyes moved to the lump of charcoal I’d left on the arm of the couch.

  “Oh.” I leaned over and grabbed it, leaving a black streak on the beige sofa. “Oops.”

  “Go ahead.” James raised his voice. “Tear up the house. It’s not like you’re the one that has to pay for everything around here. Why should you care?”

  Carter and I both slumped down, trying to disappear into the sofa cushions.

  “Why do you even have that stuff in the front room?” James continued. “You took over an entire corner of my garage for your art projects. Do you think you’re going to take over the front room now, too?”

  “No, sir.” I shook my head.

  “If you want to do your ridiculous little doodles in the house, you have a whole bedroom you can do that in,” James said.

  “Yes, sir.”

  Carter shifted beside me, eliciting James’ attention.

  “And you. Don’t you have your own house?” James asked.

  Carter nodded.

  “Then why are you always taking up space on my sofa, watching my TV when I get home?”

  “Because Mom said he could be here,” I answered.

  James cocked an eyebrow and stared at me for a minute before walking into the kitchen. As soon as he’d gone, Carter and I relaxed.

  “Good lord, that dude’s a dick,” Carter mumbled.

  “Tell me about it,” I replied.

  “You want to come out to Chase’s?”

  “Let me ask my mom.” I closed my sketchpad, stood, and stuffed the charcoal in my pocket.

  James glared at me when I walked into the kitchen. Mom sat at the table with the twins, her hands covered in finger paint, looking exhausted.

  “Hey, Mom,” I said. “Can I go to Carter’s?”

  “Sure, Sweetie.” Mom yawned. “Have fun.” She set her elbow on the table and rested her cheek in her palm.

  “Um . . .” I started to tell her about the paint she’d smeared on her face but decided not to mention it. “Thanks, Mom. Love you.”

  Carter had shut off Chris’ PlayStation when I returned to the front room.

  “Good to go?” he asked.

  “Yup.” I nodded. “Let me take this up to my room and I’ll be right back.”

  Twenty-Six

  Taking a long drink from my red plastic cup, I swallowed hard and belched. Maimy laughed, then grabbed me by the wrist and dragged me back into the front room of Chase’s trailer. Jake sat on the couch with Jeremiah. He took a drag from the joint in his hand before passing it to Carter.

  “Give me.” Maimy extended her hand and snapped her fingers until Carter relinquished the marijuana cigarette. After she’d inhaled a mouthful of smoke, she offered it to me. “Here.”

  “No, thanks.” I shook my head and took another drink.

  “Don’t be such a stick in the mud, Princess.” Lexie taunted me from across the room. She reminded me of a half-eaten rainbow Popsicle; her stringy, bright purple hair hung limp on her fragile shoulders and various shades of orange, blue, and green makeup plastered her face. In her skimpy outfit, her bare arms, legs, and neck looked like skin wrapped around the bone.

  “It’s cool,” Maimy said, taking another drag before giving the joint to Jeremiah.

  “So, we haven’t fully corrupted you.” Jake smiled.

  “Yet.” Maimy chuckled. “Give us time.”

  I smiled, sure she was right. A lot of things had changed since I met Devon. A year before, I never would have talked to the out-crowd let alone drank with them.

  Carter set his drink on the coffee table, walked over to the stereo, turned it on, and adjusted the tuning knob. The room filled with the alternating sounds of static and music.

  “Wait. Go back,” Jake said.

  “To what?” Carter looked up.

  “Just go back,” Jake replied.

  Carter turned the dial back to the last clear station. The end of a Marilyn Manson song blasted from the speakers. With nods of approval from his friends, Carter sat in the armchair beside the couch. He retrieved the communal joint from Jake and finished it before sinking into the chair cushions with a relaxed smile.

  “Hey, Maim,” Jake said. “Bring me some beer, would you?”

  “I’m not your momma,” Maimy retorted. “Get off your ass and get it yourself.”

  “But I’m comfy.” Jake stuck out his bottom lip.

  “Whatever.” Maimy rolled her eyes.

  She went into the kitchen to get Jake a cup of beer from the keg. The boys had given Chase the money to pick it up that afternoon. In addition, he’d gotten wine coolers and a few bottles of liquor, but Carter was the only one not drinking beer.

  “Hey, Princess,” Maimy called from the other side of the divider between the kitchen and front room. “Come here.”

  I walked through the opening and looked at her. “What?”

  “Ever had tequila?” She held up a glass bottle filled with amber-colored liquid. The yellow label read ‘Jose Cuervo Especial.’

  “No.” I shook my head.

  “Oh, my God.” She laughed. “You have got to get out more.”

  I chugged the last of my beer and held out my empty cup. “Pour me some.”

  “That is not how you drink tequila.” She retrieved two small glasses from the cabinet, poured tequila in each, and sliced a lime into wedges. “This is how you drink tequila. First.” She licked her palm between her thumb and forefinger before sprinkling salt on her hand. “You lick the salt . . . slam the tequila . . . and follow with lime.” She paused after each step to demonstrate.

  Setting my empty cup on the counter, I licked my hand and dumped salt into my palm. Maimy refilled her glass before sliding the other to me, then put salt on her hand.

  “Ready?” She smiled as she lifted her drink.

  With a nod, I took a sip from the small glass. As I suspected, it tasted awful.

  “No.” Maimy laughed. “It’s not wine. You don’t sip it. You down it.” She licked the salt from her palm, drank the entire contents of the glass, and bit a lime wedge in rapid succession.

  “Okay.” I took a deep breath and did my shot, coughing as I bit into the sour lime.

  “Want more?” She held up the bottle.

  “Sure.” I nodded and set my shot glass back on the counter. It was the last thing I wanted, but I was determined to not be a wuss.

  “You know what we should do.” A naughty smile spread across her face. “Body shots.”

  I furrowed my brow. “Body shots?”

  “Yeah.” She nodded.

  “What’s a body shot?”

  “I’ll show you.” She poured a shot of tequila. “Now, don’t freak out.”

  Moving my hair out of the way, Maimy licked the side of my neck. It was a strange sensation. Even though I wasn’t remotely attracted to girls, the feel of Maimy’s wet tongue on my skin sent shivers down my spine. I didn’t move as she dumped salt on my moistened neck.

  “Here.” She picked up a lime wedge and put it to my mouth with the rind facing me.

  I parted my lips, allowing her to place the lime between them.

  “And this goes right here.” Maimy put the shot glass in the top of my shirt, tucked between my boobs. “Ready?” She smiled.

  I nodded. My pulse raced as Maimy licked the salt from my neck. The sensations stirring in my lower abdomen scared me. I had always liked boys. Always. Yet, I was aroused. When Maimy used her mouth to take the lime from mine, our lips touched. It wasn’t a kiss
, but it felt like one and I liked it. Her lips were soft. I wanted to kiss her for real.

  “Your turn,” Maimy said.

  Picking up the salt shaker, I slid my tongue along the uppermost part of Maimy’s collar bone. She smiled as I placed a fresh lime wedge between her lips. After pouring a fresh shot of tequila, I tucked it into her cleavage.

  As I licked the salt from Maimy’s collar, I spotted movement in the doorway between the kitchen and front room. If I’d been sober, I would have stopped. Then again, if I’d been sober, I wouldn’t have been licking another girl. Looking back later, it amazed me how many things sounded like good ideas that night—the most regrettable being the idea to kiss Maimy.

  “Hey, Maim, where’s my—” Jake walked into the kitchen and stopped.

  I stepped back and turned around. Jake stood between the table and the kitchen doorway with his mouth agape. He blinked a few times, then smiled.

  “Holy shit, that was hot,” he said. “I don’t know what you two got going on in here, but you can definitely count me in.”

  “In your dreams, Jake.” Maimy rolled her eyes. “Come on, Princess.” She tossed her arm around my shoulders and shepherded me back into the front room as one of my favorite songs started on the radio.

  “I love this song!” I broke away from Maimy and jumped onto the vacated half of the sofa. Golden curls flew in all directions as I jerked my head back and forth.

  The room erupted with energy. Maimy stepped onto the coffee table in front of me, pushing a pile of trash onto the floor. She tossed her hair wildly as she twisted her body from side to side with her hands in the air. From the corner of my eye, I saw Carter doing an air guitar with the riffs and Jake head-banging. Lexie joined us with an energetic smile that illuminated her gaunt face. She jumped around the room on an invisible Pogo stick, screaming the chorus of “Come Out and Play” with the rest of us.

  Below me, Jeremiah smiled like a child turned loose in a candy store. He had a perfect view of the black lace panties I’d worn under my skirt. Instead of being bothered by that, I shook my backside in his face.