Broken: A YA Paranormal Romance Novel (Volume 1 of the Reflections Books)

by Dean Murray

  **

  The sound of my alarm pulled me out of a whole series of nightmares in which I was running from unknown menaces. Each had been terrifying, but none as vivid as the first. Bad dreams had become a frequent companion since the accident. It'd become nearly passé to wake up emotionally exhausted from what should have been a restful night, but these dreams had been different.

  I'd played out nearly every possible combination of events since the accident. Dreams where I was the one driving instead of Cindi. Dreams where I got a ride home with someone so Dad and Cindi didn't have any reason to be on the road. Dreams where I was in the truck that killed them, even dreams where I was in the back seat as a passenger at the moment of impact.

  I was used to awaking shaking and scared countless times during the course of a night, but I'd never felt that level of pure, bestial fear.

  I stumbled into the bathroom and flipped on the light, only to groan at how ghastly I looked. I was even paler than normal, with dark circles under my eyes that only a crack addict could possibly find attractive.

  A hot shower did a little to make me more presentable, I tried to hide the shadows with some makeup, and then finally gave up after botching the second application, and just put on some mascara and eyeliner. The mundane process of getting ready for the day wore away some of the edge to my nightmare. It was already starting to seem more like a normal, safe dream.

  I put on jeans and a button-up shirt, and then all but stumbled downstairs with my backpack in hand. Sometime during the night Mom had put our message board up on the fridge.

  Went shopping, food in the fridge, don't forget breakfast and lunch. See you tonight after school. Love you. --Mom

  I shook my head resignedly; you'd think the message would have changed at least a little over the last few weeks, but it was still pretty much the same. 'Don't forget to eat, I'll be back later, but it might be a couple of days.'

  I was tempted to just ignore the message, but that'd just make her testy at some point. It made her feel like a poor mom if we went too long without some kind of communication.

  Have to stay late for math tutoring. A friend will bring me home. --A.

  Signing my notes with an initial still felt a little like a stroke of brilliance. Writing out Adriana was a pain, but for obvious reasons I couldn't use the shortened version of my name.

  I glanced down at my watch and saw it was nearly time for Britney to show up. With a sigh I opened up the fridge and pulled out one of the trendy, meal-in-a-bottle drinks Mom had started getting lately. I didn't particularly like them, but it would keep until I was actually hungry, and Mom would count the bottles as a way of determining how many meals I was missing.

  I thought about taking a second bottle, but they were too expensive to pour down a sink, and I knew I wouldn't be hungry enough to finish up the first, let alone a second meal.

  The tinny blare of a car horn pulled me out the front door. Britney was waiting outside with her heater going full blast. I was surprised at how cold it was with the sun still struggling to get above the mountains. Of course it wasn't cold enough for me to need a heater, but I also wasn't wearing Britney's shorts, which looked like they were even shorter than the ones she'd worn the day before.

  It was amazing what the administration was letting everyone get away with. Of course, if I had legs like some of these girls, I'd probably be joining in.

  Britney turned down her rap music just long enough to say "Hi", and then we were off to school. The music was fairly hideous, but it did spare me having to try and be friendly before I was fully awake. Of course it also stopped me from digging further into the mystery of why it was so dangerous to hike. That particular question would probably have to wait at least until lunch.

  Mrs. Sorenson looked up as I walked into a nearly empty class, but I was on time, even if only barely. I'd heard of teachers taking an instant dislike to one of their students, but I'd never experienced it first hand until now.

  I fielded two questions on the role of phosphorus in photosynthesis before being hit with a third one I couldn't answer. I felt my ears go hot as the three other girls in the classroom giggled.

  I slunk out of class as soon as the bell rang. English went better. Mr. Whethers got the class involved in a discussion of Heathcliff's motivations, which kept everyone occupied for the full class time, and distracted me from what was likely to happen when Britney and I got to algebra.

  As we walked back to our lockers between classes, I noticed that the halls seemed strangely empty. Britney rolled her eyes when I asked why.

  "Of course nobody's here. Tonight's the full moon, and there was a monster party last night. There'll be another tonight and then again tomorrow."

  I felt my eyes go big. "You mean to tell me that seventy percent of the school parties for three nights running every month?"

  Britney nodded. "It's the only redeeming feature to this stupid little town, and I can't even go since the accident..."

  I could see her trying to figure out how to sidestep the issue, but I wasn't about to let her off the hook. "Listen, if there's something dangerous around here don't you think I should know about it?"

  She shifted uncomfortably from one foot to another, eyes glancing to each side of us in an effort to see who might overhear us. "We can't talk about it here; you'll have to trust me. Wait until lunch."

  I wasn't entirely satisfied, but nodded, and followed her to algebra.

  Mrs. Campbell shot us both a glance that didn't bode well for any attempt to get out of class without a stern reprimand, but allowed us to go to our respective seats without comment.

  I pulled out the two assignments I'd done the night before, and passed them up with everyone else's homework. Realizing the lecture wouldn't do me any good, I pulled out my book, and started reading the next section in my self-appointed study regimen. Mrs. Campbell either understood what I was trying to accomplish, or was saving up all her venom for after class. She didn't call on me even once.

  Britney wasn't so lucky, and I caught a nasty look from her each time I surfaced from my textbook. The glares angered me more than I'd expected. I was having to catch up on a month's worth of assignments; she didn't have any right to get pissy just because she wasn't prepared.

  The third time it happened, I stopped pretending not to notice and shot Britney a sugar-sweet look of my own. She didn't quite seem to know how to take that and the rest of the class passed quickly. All too soon, it was time to go up and talk to Mrs. Campbell. I put off the ordeal as long as I could, waiting until everyone but Britney and I had exited the room. Britney looked particularly unhappy.

  Mrs. Campbell was looking at my homework when I reached her desk. "I was prepared to tear into you for not going to the tutoring lab last night, but that hardly seems fair seeing as how you went ahead and did the work by yourself."

  I felt a small glow of satisfaction flare into life, but her next words ensured it didn't get out of hand. "Of course, you've got the right answers, and technically you're attacking the problems correctly, but you're leaving out a couple of steps that I think will give you problems a bit later on. Please take my advice and spend a little bit of time at the math lab. Even if you can't make it every day, you need to come in a few times a week."

  "Yes, ma'am." The scolding actually hadn't been that bad, almost like disguised praise. Britney looked like she was hoping for something similar, but Mrs. Campbell's expression quickly dashed that idea.

  "You on the other hand definitely need to spend every night at the math lab. Your homework was incomplete, and of the problems you bothered to attempt, you didn't do a single one correctly. Britney, you're headed towards a failing grade, and while you might not care, your father most certainly does. Make my class a priority, or I'll stop in for a checkup and let slip just how poorly you're doing to dear old Dad, and then you'll find yourself riding the bus to school."

  It was a vicious threat, but one almost guaranteed to have an effect. Britney most definit
ely didn't want to be stuck riding the bus with all of the junior high kids and other assorted 'losers'. Her mouth opened and closed several times and then she nodded and fled the classroom.

  When I finally caught up with her she'd recovered enough to complain, but there was a breathless nature to her voice that told me she wouldn't be skipping the math lab for a little while. I made non-committal noises as we waited in line, all the while scanning the cafeteria for two faces.

  Actually, scanning wasn't the right word for it. I just kind of looked that way and instantly found my eyes drawn to Brandon. He was surrounded by people, mostly female, all attractive. Taking in all of those lithe, tan bodies, I suddenly felt incredibly inferior. All of the impending skin cancer deaths suddenly didn't seem quite so important.

  I looked away before anyone could see me staring. Britney was still looking longingly at a pile of fries. When I looked up again Brandon was looking back at me with a smile that communicated all kinds of things I'd always thought you needed words for.

  His expression seemed to say he was glad to see me, embarrassed to be the center of attention, and sorry he couldn't get away from his friends to come over and say hi. I felt my face go hot with embarrassment. I tried to step behind a pillar before he saw me go bright red, but knew I hadn't succeeded.

  I bit my lip as I realized how spastic I was being. I'd spent the last sixteen-plus years suppressing my natural tendency to form crushes on one cute boy after another. I'd nearly perfected the art of exhibiting zero interest in the opposite sex. The whole point of my existence had been avoiding the kinds of things that'd result in everyone laughing at me. Why was I setting my sights on a boy who was so far out of my league? Even if there'd been a chance he might like me, I had absolutely no idea how to proceed.

  Given the option, I would've just hid behind the pillar until everyone left for class, but Britney had made her decision, and was paying for her food. Essentially out of time, I took a deep breath and followed her to a table. I couldn't help glancing towards Brandon's table one last time. I was hoping he was still smiling. Maybe he'd seen how awkward I was, but didn't mind. Maybe he even thought it was endearing. Failing that, I at least hoped he wasn't chuckling with his friends over the new girl's stupid infatuation.

  He wasn't doing either, in fact, he seemed to be very much involved in a conversation with the stocky boy on his right. The rest of the kids at the table were listening just as intensely, all except for the brunette on Brandon's left who was looking in our direction.

  My face pulled back in a smile, I even brought my hand partway up in a wave before I realized I recognized her. It was the trendy girl from the office, and she apparently still didn't like me.

  I felt my face get even hotter, only now I was both angry and embarrassed. It was a relief to sink down into a chair with my back to Brandon and his friends. Strangely enough, Britney also being so obviously uncomfortable helped calm me down.

  "Okay, out with it, why is this such a big deal?"

  Britney shifted back and forth in her seat for a couple of seconds before leaning in to whisper. "It really shouldn't be a big deal, but everyone around here acts like it's taboo. Two hikers were killed by some kind of wild animal a few months ago."

  I felt my heart skip a beat as a chill ran from the base of my spine all the way to my scalp. Britney's innocuous words shouldn't have caused my mind to immediately sink back to the terror I'd felt this morning, but they did.

  For a moment I couldn't focus on what Britney was saying, my heartbeat had become completely erratic from the surge of adrenaline flooding my body as it futilely tried to escape the nameless things that'd been snapping at my heels.

  "...out in the south end of Zions. It was Mark Childs and Lessi Arnolds. The bodies were a couple of days old by the time search and rescue found them, but it was pretty obvious they'd been mauled by something."

  I opened my mouth to interrupt, but my vocal chords weren't working. Now that she'd finally broached the subject, Britney was unstoppable. "It had to have been a mountain lion, there isn't anything else around here that's both aggressive and big enough to kill people, but neither of them had been gnawed on at all, which was strange enough by itself. Everyone refusing to talk about it would've been enough to make it X-Files weird, but when the coroner threw such a fit, it entered a class of its own."

  Britney looked around again to make sure nobody was in hearing range, and then leaned in even closer. "He said the wounds weren't made by anything in the cat family. He wrote up a whole paper on how the teeth marks were made by some kind of new, previously undiscovered predator."

  The chills were back, and they'd redoubled in intensity. It was like the howl from my dream was echoing through my soul. "Did he say what it was like? The predator, I mean."

  Britney nodded slowly. "Yeah, he thought it was somehow related to a wolf, but bigger and stronger, with claws like something out of a slasher movie. He was causing such a stir in St. George they finally fired him. They said he was sensationalizing the attack to get his fifteen minutes of fame. Daddy tried to get access to the bodies, to provide a second opinion even though that isn't his real area of expertise, but they blocked him cold. He thinks they were worried about scaring away the tourists. They had to make the accident go away, to save the local economy."

  My hands had gone cold despite the oppressive heat, just now hitting its full stride for the day. You didn't hang around the fringe without running into plenty of people who were conspiracy theorists. Discussing UFOs, Illuminati, and X-Files had been like air and water for some of the people I'd known back in Minneapolis. I'd never given their wild theories a second thought before, but what Britney was describing sounded like a pretty convincing attempt at a cover-up.

  I looked up as I realized Britney had fallen silent, only to realize with a start that a pair of tears were trickling down her face.

  "Mark and Lessi were the only ones to really open up when I moved in. Their great-grandparents were some of the first people to settle down here. They used to tell me all kinds of crazy stories. After they were killed nobody would really talk to me. Everyone was polite, but it was like I was shut out, like they blamed me for what happened."

  Britney paused for a second and then shuddered. "I was supposed to have been with them."

  My shoulders suddenly relaxed as everything started to make sense. There'd been an attack of course. There might have even been a bit of a cover-up by local, or regional, authorities, but Britney's father was probably right in assuming the motivation had been protecting the tourist industry.

  That was all straightforward, but even that wasn't as obvious as the fact that Britney was suffering from some kind of survivor's guilt. She felt like she was somehow to blame for not dying with her friends, and was reading all kinds of motivations into people's behavior that weren't even there. That would've been spooky enough, but then I'd turned around, linked all of it to a freak nightmare and been convinced the world was about to end. Silly.

  I did my best to comfort Britney after that, but was more than a little relieved when lunch finally ended. That of course made me feel heartless and guilty in turn, but I was still too fragile to deal with her issues. When it's all you can do to get through the day yourself, it's impossible to be a pillar of strength for someone else.

  History was a complete waste of time. I hadn't even made it through the reading assignment, and I still got a perfect score on the pop quiz.

  Physics was surprisingly full. Apparently Alec was the only hard-core party animal in the class. I was still feeling weird from Britney's story, so unlike the rest of my classmates, who seemed genuinely intrigued by the assignment, I just pretended to leaf through a reference book all hour.

  Spanish was as bad as history. Mrs. Tiggs turned on one of the Spanish TV channels within thirty seconds of class starting. Towards the end of the hour I finally started to come back out of my funk, so I put the last few minutes to good use reviewing vocabulary for the quiz on Tuesday.


  I felt a momentary surge of relief when class ended, but the feeling evaporated when I remembered I had to go to math tutoring.

  I grabbed my math book, and met an equally morose Britney at her locker. There are only so many times one person can say something sucks, and expect the other person to agree with them. Britney quickly used up her allotment of complaints, and then subsided into silence as she led the way to an out-of-the-way corner of the old school.

  I'd noticed Britney liked to position herself so she was closest to the middle of the hall. Admittedly, dodging all the people trying to get into their lockers wasn't much fun, but I suspected her real motivation was a desire to ensure she could see and be seen, which was much more easily accomplished by relegating me to the outside position.

  Normally I'd have just viewed her theatrics with amusement, but it'd been a long day and I wasn't in the mood. If I'd known for sure where we were heading, I'd have considered cutting her off, even with all of the probable fallout, but I didn't. Instead I just sighed, followed her around a corner, and collided with six-plus feet of muscled goodness packaged in a white polo shirt that looked worryingly familiar.

  Brandon caught me as I rebounded from him, easily stopping my momentum before I could stumble into a locker. "We'd better be careful; I'm starting to sense a trend."

  I wanted to say something equally witty, but his shirt did wonderful, probably illegal things to his gray eyes, and his perfectly straight teeth were parted in a friendly grin that couldn't possibly be meant for me.

  I managed a feeble grin before the silence stretched too far towards becoming uncomfortable, but it was a pathetic attempt. Brandon gently released my shoulders and detoured around me with a grace that should have looked unnatural on a boy, but which somehow exuded more masculinity than any four boys I'd known back home.

  Britney shot me an envious look and then turned and stalked through an open doorway. I should have been worried I was upsetting my only 'friend'. Failing that, I should at least be mad she was being so unreasonable, but my racing heart brushed those feelings away. Other than a persistent, imaginary tingling along my shoulders I was strangely numb inside as I followed her into the tutoring room.

  There were more kids inside than I'd expected, enough that a normal room would've felt crowded, but this wasn't a normal room. Someone had knocked down a wall or two, creating a space that was strangely welcoming, despite obviously being meant for academic pursuits. A large number of rectangular tables were scattered about the room, situated so that the two people sitting at them would feel relatively isolated.

  As I continued my survey, I realized that there was only ever one pile of books at any given table, and in the few instances in which two people were sitting at a table, one of the individuals was obviously explaining something to the other one.

  Most of the kids looked fairly run-of-the-mill. There was even the expected contingent of jocks, obviously there just because a coach or parent had delivered some kind of ultimatum. Britney predictably headed over and staked out a table as close as she could get to a group of girls who were probably cheerleaders.

  Clustered around the other end of the room were the more studious kids, the kind who were generally pretty smart, but for whatever reason were struggling with math. I wasn't surprised to see a kind of a no-man's-land between the two ends of the spectrum. I was startled to see that the middle ground was inhabited by an attractive girl a year or two younger than me.

  Left to my own devices, I would've normally picked a table over on the nerd end of the room, but I found myself relating more to the girl stuck in the middle. She looked up and met my gaze for just a second before ducking back down and concentrating on her homework. Shy, obviously, and not popular. There'd been the hint of a smile on her face, possibly constrained by fear of how her overture might be received.

  Obviously a complete social reject just like me. It was nice to finally meet a kindred spirit. Britney's clingy neediness was nearly as bad as the icy indifference or borderline hostility all of the rest of the students displayed. Except for Brandon, but I couldn't quite bring myself to trust him. A boy that cute wasn't nice to a girl like me unless he wanted something from her.

  Mrs. Campbell walked over while I was casing the room. She still looked stern, but her face had relaxed slightly. She even smiled as she handed me a green, laminated card. "You'll need to pick out an empty table, we don't let students share here. Also I'd recommend choosing one somewhat distant from Ms. Samuels, she doesn't need any more distractions than she already has. When you have a question, or need help from one of the tutors, flip the card over to the red side and place it on your desk."

  I nodded and headed over to a table near the girl, one where I could watch her without her seeing me. I wasn't going to fall all over myself to become her friend or anything, but I figured it was worth observing her for a little bit. If she really was cool then we might strike up a friendship at some point. If she wasn't, then the sooner I could confirm that fact the better off I'd be.

  I pulled out my book, study guide, and some paper, and got busy with my next self-assigned homework set. I was up to graphing now, which was about as straightforward as you could get.

  I made pretty good progress, pausing from time to time to stretch my neck and look around. The girl had flipped her card over to the red side, and had a tutor with her, a clumsy-looking boy who looked like he might be a senior. Based on the glasses, and the fact he had to have picked them out without any input from a girl younger than forty, I figured he was in debate, or maybe the chess club. He was probably incredibly nice, and boring as watching paint dry. Exactly the kind of guy my mom would turn cartwheels over. I'd have to make sure they never met.

  I took the opportunity to look a little more closely at the girl. Seen from profile, she wasn't quite as pretty as I'd thought originally. She wasn't exactly plain-looking, but her features weren't very remarkable. She did have incredibly soft-looking wavy brown hair though.

  It looked like debate boy had pretty much finished answering her question. I looked back down at my book so I wouldn't get caught staring. I was just about to dive back into my text book when someone cleared their throat nearby.

  The tutor was standing at my elbow looking over my assignment. "Hi, I'm Albert, and you must be Adri."

  I winced again. It was going to take a lot of work to get people to use my full name. "Adriana, but I don't need any help."

  Albert smiled. "I know your card wasn't on the red side, but Mrs. Campbell asked me to stop by and go over a couple of steps you left out on your homework assignment from today. Since I just finished with Rachel and was over here already, I thought I'd show you the steps you're missing."

  I nodded my assent as I mentally filed away both his name and the girl's. Surprisingly enough, Albert was a good teacher, pointing out the steps I'd been skipping over, and even explaining why they were important. It was rare enough to find a school teacher who could really teach math these days, finding a student who could teach was nearly a miracle.

  Rachel packed up her things while I was being instructed in the finer points of inequalities. As she slid the last book into her backpack, Albert stepped away from my desk with another smile.

  I flipped over to the next chapter and started in on functions as Rachel exited out a corner door I hadn't noticed before. I saw a flash of the stunted, brown vegetation that the locals called grass before the door swung back closed. Suppressing an urge to just surrender and go outside until Britney finished up, I got started. The roar of some kind of high-performance engine a few seconds later almost changed my mind, but my native stubbornness kicked in before I let the thought get out of hand.

  The subject matter was harder than graphing, but I persevered, and managed to make it through all fifteen problems without resorting to the red side of the card. Of course Albert did stop by to see if I was having any difficulties, but since I didn't summon him, he couldn't read anything into it.

 
When Britney stomped over and asked if I was done, I considered telling her I needed ten more minutes. Her being an attention hog didn't justify me being petty though. I just nodded instead and packed up my stuff.

  The ride home was completely uneventful, and mercifully brief. Britney was one of those people who drive fast normally, and even faster when they are pissed off. Apparently having to stay after school to study merited twenty-five over the speed limit.

  I normally would have complained--I'd become much more sensitive about speeding in the last couple of months, but I was anxious to get home, and very much not feeling like there was anything particularly special to live for. Not that I was suicidal, contrary to Mom's unvoiced, but obvious fears. I just didn't have much of anything to look forward to.

  It wasn't until Britney's Saturn was nearly out of sight that I realized our Jeep Cherokee was parked in the driveway. I sometimes felt I should have outgrown the need to talk to Mom when things were tough, but I couldn't deny that it felt like a big weight had been lifted off me as I walked through the door.

  "I'm home, Mom. How did your latest shoot..." Whatever I'd been about to say evaporated off of my tongue as I entered the living room and saw Mom curled up on the couch with bloodshot eyes.

  Mom had always been the strong one. I still more or less belonged in some kind of padded room. Mom had simply accepted events and done her best to hold our life together so there'd be something for me to come back to.

  "What happened?"

  I wanted to comfort her like I used to do with Cindi, but I suddenly realized I didn't know how. Parents weren't supposed to need reassuring. If they did, they were supposed to work it out between each other. Only now there was just her.

  "The bank's calling the loan on our house. They called the Mayor's office and were told I didn't get the contract to do the tourism brochure. They're claiming I committed loan fraud. Only I don't understand, Mr. Peters told me I had the job."

  I'd pretty much forgotten about the tourism brochure for the city. It'd sounded like the perfect job for Mom, albeit a short term one. Now it was sounding like it'd been too good to be true. The move had been something I'd opposed and then ignored when my opposition hadn't made any difference. I didn't know anything about grown-up things like mortgages. I'd been too self-absorbed to learn. For the first time I felt guilty about making things harder for Mom. Surely there was something I could have done to help out, even considering the attacks.

  "They can't do that, can they? I mean, if they told you that you had the job they can't take it away, can they?"

  Mom rooted around in a half empty box until she found some tissues, it wasn't the first one she'd been through this afternoon.

  "I didn't think so, but Mr. Peters claims there was never any contract signed and I can't find our copy in any of the boxes."

  "Mom, what are we going to do? Where will we go if they kick us out?"

  She smoothed my hair back from my face. "Don't worry about that, sweetie. I'm sure everything will be okay. I was just over-reacting. It'll turn out to be nothing."

  It was just like Mom to misplace something important like that. I opened my mouth to agree with her, but stopped before the words could fully form. I didn't know much, but fraud wasn't the kind of thing you associated with a slap on the wrist. If the worst happened and Mom was going to serve jail time then we had bigger problems than even what she was admitting to.