What Unbreakable Looks Like

by Kate McLaughlin

  “We can just go around the block,” I say, as we head back out. “I’ll take her to the park tomorrow.”

  Zack seems vigilant as we walk. “Have you seen him again?” he asks.

  “No. He probably knows the cops are watching.” As if on cue, a police car drives by. The officer in the passenger seat nods at me and takes a good look at Zack.

  “I’m glad they’re watching you. Do you think he’d try something?”

  “Depends on the mood he’s in,” I reply. “Do you think your mom was serious about having me speak to her class?”

  “Oh, yeah,” he says with a laugh. “She’d put you in front of them in a minute. She wouldn’t take advantage of you, though. It’s not like that. She just wants to build a better world, and she sees you as part of the Lego set.”

  I smile at the reference. “Maybe I’ll do it. Think she’d let me check out one of her classes before that?”

  “Are you kidding? She’d probably want you to sit up front.”

  I laugh.

  He glances at me. “There’s something different about you the last few days. You seem … happier.”

  I give him a vaguely amused look. “I attacked you.”

  “You were upset.”

  “No excuse, but thanks.” I look up at the dark sky. There are a few stars out. “Now that everyone knows about me, it’s like I don’t have to hide anymore. I can just be me—whoever that is.”

  “Makes sense. When Mom finally called the cops on Dad, it was a relief. It wasn’t all on me anymore.”

  “Yeah,” I agree. “That’s it. A relief.”

  We walk around the block. It takes longer than it should because Isis has to stop and pee every two seconds, marking territory. I also let her take a dump on Tyler’s front lawn. He probably won’t even notice, but it gives me great satisfaction to walk away and leave it there. A little payback for the way he held my head in the bathroom that day.

  When we finally get back to my place, Zack doesn’t come inside. “I’d better get home,” he says.

  “Thanks for letting me come over tonight,” I say.

  He frowns. “You don’t need to thank me. You can come over whenever you want. Friends are allowed to hang out.”

  Friends. Right. Now is the moment when I decide if I want to keep things the way they are or not. I mean, we’ve only known each other a short time, what could it hurt to see how things go?

  But life can change so fast. I don’t want to die knowing I didn’t at least try to be brave.

  “What are you doing tomorrow night?” I ask.

  He opens his car door. “Nothing, why?”

  “That new horror movie Uninvited is playing at the theater on Main Street. Do you want to go?”

  “Is that the one based on that online short story?”

  “I think so.” I have no clue; I saw the trailer and thought it looked good.

  “Sure,” he says with a lift of his shoulders. “Who else is going?”

  I swallow. “No one. You and me.”

  He stares at me. “Are you asking me out?”

  Oh, shit. I take a breath. “Yeah. So, do you want to go or not?” Oh, that doesn’t sound childish at all.

  A slow grin curves his lips and brightens his face. It almost hurts to look at him. He’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. It’s like every day I’ve known him he’s gotten prettier and prettier. “Yeah,” he says. “Call you tomorrow about the time?”

  I nod, tongue too tied to speak.

  Still grinning, he gets in his car, starts the engine, and drives away.

  As I climb the steps to the house, a car drives by. I glance up at the familiar sound. Mitch’s car. He must know the times of the patrols. Guess he still has a few cop friends. I’m tempted to run down the driveway and scream at his taillights. I rush inside and text Detective Willis. Maybe she can do something to make sure Mitch gets his ass in jail soon. Because if he ruins tomorrow night, they won’t have to arrest him. I’ll freaking kill him myself.

  chapter twenty

  When Zack arrives to pick me up for the movie Saturday night, I’m wearing jeans and a sweater with a new pair of boots. I put on a little makeup and clip up my hair.

  “God, you look so grown up,” Krys says when I come downstairs.

  Jamal beams. “She looks a lot like you did the night we met.”

  “That’s reason right there to go change,” I say. I’m only half joking. But Zack is at the door and it’s too late.

  He’s taller than Jamal—taller than anyone I know. He’s wearing a leather jacket that makes his shoulders look broader, and his hair is swept back from his face.

  Maybe this isn’t such a good idea, I think. I can change my mind. I’m allowed. But then Zack smiles. “You look nice,” he says. And he obviously doesn’t care that other people heard him say it.

  A lot of men have told me I was “hot” or “gorgeous” or even “sexy,” but none of them ever said I looked nice. “Thanks,” I say. “So do you.”

  And now we’re awkward. We weren’t awkward yesterday.

  “You want to get going?” he asks. “We’re going to need popcorn.”

  “You have money?” Jamal asks, taking out his wallet.

  Zack holds up his hand. “I’ve got it, Dr. Morgan, thanks.” He looks back at me. And waits.

  “Have fun,” Krys says. “Let us know if you’re going to be late.”

  I tell her I will, and Zack and I leave the house. I’m buckling my seat belt when he says, “I feel a little weird. Do you?”

  “Yeah,” I admit. “Do you want to bail?”

  “No. Do you?”

  “No.”

  He starts the car. “Okay, we’ll have to get over it.”

  By the time we get to the theater, we’re almost back to normal. I’m still very aware that it’s only the two of us, but not like I was.

  “You don’t have to pay for me,” I say when he buys both of our tickets. “I asked you out, remember?”

  He looks at me. “You have money?”

  “I do.”

  He nods. “Okay. You can buy popcorn and soda.”

  I buy us a jumbo popcorn and a huge soda. I also have a big bag of Twizzlers in my purse, because I’m not paying theater prices for their pathetic little candy portions.

  The theater is fairly full, but we get seats in the middle. Zack holds the popcorn bucket, and I manage the Twizzlers. The soda is between us.

  Zack has a comment for every trailer they play before the movie. I’m almost disappointed to see the coming attractions end.

  The movie itself is super scary. It is about a group of teens who decide to spend the night in an old house because it’s a place where they can hang out, party, and have sex. One by one, they’re picked off by an angry ghost until only two of them are left. I jump at least three or four times. Zack jumps once—and swears.

  “That was so good,” he says afterward as we’re leaving. “I didn’t see that ending coming at all.”

  “I know, right?” I shove what’s left of the Twizzlers back into my bag. “I thought it was going to be another ‘punish the promiscuous kids’ kind of thing, but it wasn’t at all.”

  “And there wasn’t a virgin saving the day.”

  I glance at him. “Are you a virgin?”

  He chokes on a drink of soda, coughs for a few seconds, and takes another drink. His eyes are watering when he looks at me. “Seriously? I pick you up. I pay for tickets. I even wore clean jeans, and this is what I get in return?”

  “Dude,” I say. “Do you have any idea what I’d give to still be a virgin?” I mean it as a joke, but it’s clear from how fast the color drains from his face that he doesn’t take it that way.

  “I’m sorry,” he says.

  “You didn’t do anything,” I remind him. “It was a stupid thing for me to say.”

  He unlocks the car and opens my door. “Do you mean it?”

  I pause. Shrug. “Yeah. I’d love to go back to thi
nking sex is something special.”

  “I’m sorry it got ruined for you.”

  I try a smile. “It’s not ruined—it’s just going to take something awesome to fix it.”

  He smiles too, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Once again, I’m left kicking myself for saying something I shouldn’t have. He probably can’t wait for this night to be over.

  Neither one of us says much on the drive home. By the time we pull into the drive, I’m feeling slightly nauseous. I’m not sure if it’s all the butter and sugar, or regret. I unfasten my seat belt to relieve some of the pressure.

  “I had a good time tonight,” Zack says.

  “Me too,” I say. “When I wasn’t saying stupid shit.”

  He frowns. “When did you say anything stupid?”

  Seriously? “The virgin thing.”

  “That wasn’t stupid. Sad, but not stupid.”

  “I feel kinda stupid for saying it.”

  He leans back against the seat and sighs. “You know, I’d like to know what it’s like to be one of those kids who has an awesome dad. I can’t imagine what it must be like not to be afraid of my own father. Not to hate him with every frigging bone in my body. Do you think that’s stupid?”

  “Of course not.”

  “So cut yourself the same slack you give everyone else.”

  “You ever get tired of being right all the fucking time?” I ask. I’m only a little annoyed.

  “Ha! Now you’re being stupid.” He grins.

  God, he’s gorgeous. Impulsively, I lean across the distance between us and kiss his cheek. His skin is warm beneath my lips, and the contact feels like an electrical shock. I pull back fast.

  “Was that stupid?” I ask.

  He’s not grinning anymore. “No,” he says. “That was the least stupid thing ever.”

  I smile and grab my bag. “Good night, Zack. Thanks.”

  “Hey,” he says, stopping me as I step out of the car. When I lean down to peer in at him, he continues, “You want to do homework with me at the Bean Tuesday night?”

  I smile. “Pick us up?”

  “Us?”

  “Me and Isis.”

  A slow grin curves his lips. “It’s a date.”

  * * *

  I’m upstairs in my room working on a paper when the doorbell rings Sunday afternoon. I peek out my window to see if it’s Elsa because we’re supposed to get together to work on a math assignment sometime today, and instead, see Detective Willis’s car parked out front.

  Have they figured out how it’s going to work getting apologies from Mike and his friends? I admit—but only to myself—I’ve started looking forward to them.

  When I walk into the kitchen, Detective Willis is standing in the middle of the room, talking to Krys, a leather portfolio under her arm. I hope it isn’t pictures of more dead girls.

  “Sorry to bother you on a Sunday,” the detective says, “but we’ve made an arrest in the murder of Jaime Phillips, aka Ivy, and I’d like Alexa to look at some mug shots.”

  Aka—like she was a conman or something.

  Detective Willis opens the portfolio and sets a sheet of paper on the table. On it are six grainy photos. “Is the man who abducted and trafficked you on this paper? If so, please point to him and say out loud that it’s him.”

  I look at the sheet. Five of them are strangers—all pretty sad-looking guys. One of them is all too familiar. His face is vivid in my memory. At one time, I thought it was the most gorgeous face I’d ever seen because it belonged to the man who I thought loved me. Now, the sight of him makes my stomach roll and my palms sweat.

  “That’s him.” I point to his photo. “That’s Mitch.”

  “You’re certain?”

  “Fifty years from now, I’ll still know his face,” I tell her.

  Detective Willis smiles. “Excellent. Thank you.”

  “Wait,” Krys says. “Does this mean you’ve arrested him? When? Where?”

  She looks uncomfortable. “We have. We picked him up last night. Not far from here.”

  Krys goes pale, which is something, considering how white she is to begin with. “How far, Marianne?”

  Detective Willis closes the portfolio. “He was turning onto this street when the patrol got him. Right around nine thirty.”

  Zack and I were still at the movie.

  “Is there any chance he’s going to get out and come here?” my aunt asks.

  “No. We’ve got him on trafficking, drug charges, and suspicion of murder. He’s not going anywhere except prison.”

  I stare at her. “Really?”

  She nods, that little smile pulling at her lips again. “Really. I told you I’d get him.”

  I wrap my arms around her waist. She hugs me back, and when I pull away, I catch her wiping at her eyes.

  “Thank you,” I say.

  “It’s not over yet,” she says. “But this is the beginning of the end. With your help, Lex, he’s going to go away for a long time.”

  With my help. There’s part of me that doesn’t want to testify. But Jaime was so scared when Mitch brought her to the motel. She tried so hard to please him, and he killed her. He drove by this house. My house. He still thinks he owns me.

  “Could he get life?” I ask.

  Detective Willis nods. “Yes. We’ll push for no chance of parole. It will depend on how the jury responds to our case.”

  I meet her gaze, now familiar rage starting to gnaw at my insides, hot and indignant. It feels good. Strong. “What do I need to do?”

  * * *

  Krys wants to celebrate, so we plan to do just that.

  I refuse to think about what might happen. Mitch has been arrested and he’s going to jail. I have to believe that. He’ll pay for what he did to me. To the other girls. To Jaime.

  My aunt invited Detective Willis to come back that night after work. She also told me to invite Elsa and Zack and his mother over if I want. Do I? If I call him, I will have seen him three nights in a row. Is that normal? Is it too much?

  I take the chance, because I don’t know what’s normal and it doesn’t matter—I’m not normal. When I tell him Mitch has been arrested and we’re celebrating, he tells me he’ll be over as soon as he can.

  Elsa arrives first. She comes up to my room where I’m finishing up some homework.

  She pounces on me. “I’m so happy, I could spit,” she says. “How are you doing?”

  “I can’t believe it. I keep waiting for them to tell me he escaped or something.”

  She tilts her head and gives me a sympathetic look. “He’s not going anywhere, buddy. You’re going to put him away for the rest of his life.”

  “I hope so.” Are there any special punishments for pimps in prison?

  “So?” Elsa asks.

  I look at her. “So what?”

  “You and Zack.”

  “What about me and Zack?”

  “You went to the movies last night.”

  I frown. “How did you know?”

  She grins and stretches out on my bed. “I called the house last night. Krys said you were on a date. You have been holding out on me!”

  I roll my eyes, but my stomach is all butterflies. “We saw Uninvited. It was awesome.”

  Her gaze searches my face. “Did he try something?”

  I scowl. “No.”

  “Did you want him to?”

  “I … I don’t know.”

  She nods, like she understands. I guess she does. “Sucks when you feel guilty for wanting something normal, doesn’t it? I finally got up the guts to kiss Maisie Friday night, and for a second, I felt bad for wanting her—like I don’t deserve it after what happened to me.”

  “Like there’s something wrong with you for still being able to want to be touched.”

  She looks me in the eye. “Exactly.” She gives a sly grin. “Do you want Zack to touch your lady bits with his big hands?”

  I flush as she waggles her eyebrows. “I want to touch hi
m,” I admit.

  Elsa sits up, swinging her legs over the side of the bed and planting her hands on either side of her thighs. “You like him.”

  “I do. He’s…” I turn my head when I hear a noise. Zack leans against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest.

  “He’s what?” he asks, smirking.

  I should be mortified, but I’m only mildly embarrassed. So many girls act like it’s the worst thing ever for a boy to know they like him. I want to tell them there are so many things that are worse.

  “Stealthy,” I reply.

  “Silent, but deadly,” he says with a nod. “Your aunt sent me up to get the two of you. Apparently she wants to have a toast since everyone’s here.”

  Elsa jumps to her feet. “Booze!” As she brushes past Zack, she slaps the back of her hand against his stomach—she only comes up to his armpit. “You’re lucky you heard something good, eavesdropper.”

  He smiles down at her. “Like you could think of anything bad to say about me. You love me, admit it.”

  My heart rate spikes a bit watching him. He’s like something exotic to me. Once, when I was little, we went to a zoo and I saw a lion. I remember standing there, staring at it. I’d never seen anything so amazing before. I feel that same kind of wonder when I look at Zack.

  Elsa gives him a grin. “Ours is a love that can never be.” She walks away as he laughs.

  I get up from the desk and walk to the door. He hasn’t moved. When I hesitate at the threshold, he holds out his hand.

  “He likes you too,” he says.

  “No one’s ever held my hand before,” I tell him. I feel stupid for admitting it.

  “I’ve never wanted to hold anyone’s hand before,” he replies.

  I reach out my hand, lowering it so our palms touch and our fingers entwine. My heart clenches. I look up at him. “I don’t think you’re like other guys.”

  He smiles. “You’re the first person to ever make me glad for that.”

  I smile back, and we walk downstairs together.