Broken Page 8

  A strange middle-aged man approached me. He had a friendly smile. Yet the New Yorker in me never trusted strangers. “Excuse me, miss. Is someone sitting here?” I pulled my cap down farther over my face and pushed my sunglasses tightly onto my face.

  “No,” I said. I moved my legs so he could get through to sit in the seat right next to me.

  I had taken the train because I knew if Noel were going to come surprise me—if he still loved me—that’s the way he’d do it. He was so no-frills. All he cared about was what was on the inside.

  I had never been so anxious in my entire life. Last night, I couldn’t sleep a wink. All I could think about was how he would look and how I would look when I saw him. I had tried on seven different outfits. Then I thought about how we could be secret lovers. I would break up with Merek, of course. And how he could come to me sometimes and how I could visit him sometimes.

  The rest was just a blur. I was on a mission. Next thing I knew, I was inside the library. I just roamed around. First the first floor, then the second—then I was headed to the stacks. The elevator doors opened. There was one long aisle down the middle of the floor. There were stacks with books on each side, left and right. The institutional green was not romantic at all. I didn’t know how I’d look in the lighting of those overhead fluorescent lamps. Oh, well, I was determined not to let that get the best of me. I was so close. I carefully searched in between each and every stack.

  I had stopped. Suddenly my head was throbbing. I put my hand to my head and it felt like I was on fire. I took a few deep breaths. I was about ten rows deep. There were like 30 more to search. I took a few steps and I felt weak. I grabbed on to the nearest bookshelf. I leaned against it for a moment. Why did I feel like I was going to pass out? Maybe if I had slept some the night before. I had switched bags in the morning. This was a why-me? moment. I mean, I always carried Advil in my bag because sometimes I needed it at a long shoot between the back-to-back lattes without any lunch or dinner and bright lights and posing. Advil was my savior.

  No matter. I had come too far to get sick. He was here somewhere. I walked down the long aisle, throbbing head and all, one foot in front of the other, one stack at a time. I’m not sure how much farther I had walked. It was three, maybe four stacks when I lay my eyes upon him. Red hot tears ran down my cheek. Just my right eye was crying. I might’ve gasped. I didn’t remember exactly. I started to tremble. I was definitely trembling.

  He was taller, like six-foot-three. Big shoulders. I couldn’t get those big broad shoulders out of mind because she had her hands all over them.

  This was not how this was supposed to go. What a waste! Thinking, dreaming, it all felt like a foolish waste of time. The joke was on me. It was the cruelest joke I could’ve imagined. To punish myself further, I stood there as she turned her pretty face slowly. She leaned in and kissed my boyfriend!

  I just kept thinking he was mine. I started walking to the elevator. Then my walk turned into a jog. I mashed the elevator button with all the pressure I thought would take to break it. Who could I tell? When you’re in love, who is there when your heart gets broken?

  Who was going to take care of me? I needed my mother so much it just hurt more. Nothing was right and it didn’t seem like it would ever be right again. I just didn’t know why I had to get my heart broken. I could imagine telling Sierra how I felt and her looking at me and telling me my life was perfect. Or if someone like me got hurt there was no hope. Beauty meant nothing in love. I wanted a free pass for once. Life owed me something. I didn’t have Mama. Everything was supposed to go my way. I needed him so desperately it didn’t make sense. But was love supposed to make sense? How could something that felt so right be wrong? How could it be wrong?

  I was embarrassed a little. Mostly because I had failed. I wiped the tears off my face with my sleeve. I smiled at the librarian on my way out.

  I took a cab all the way home. The cab driver tried to give me smack about driving so far into the city and getting back. I just paid him whatever he asked for. I wasn’t about to stomach anymore of Metro-North than I had to.

  Chapter 10 Let the Season Begin

  The first day of school was an awkward day, at best. The good thing was that you always knew what to wear—uniform. Ahhh, but the shoes. My affair with shoes was just beginning. My favorite black Mary Janes I got at a small boutique west of Sixth Avenue in the village.

  There was something in the air. Everyone was different. Everyone was kind of preoccupied. Just one more year until our real lives began. College applications were right around the corner for some. I’d signed up for a record number of AP classes. I didn’t know when I thought I would study for them. I almost always fell asleep on the jet. My schedule was starting to concern me. I had three shoots booked for this week alone, and two were in the Caribbean. Lisa said things were starting to really heat up and that this year would be red-hot. I had eight Fashion Week shows for next week. I was glad—the distraction would help me forget Connecticut.

  Before I knew it, everyone in my fifth period class was packing their bags. The bell must have rung. I snapped up my Bio textbook and my clutch bag.

  I felt out of place—like life was moving at light speed and I was just trotting along in slow motion. Yesterday, I had felt like I finally knew love. Just daydreaming about Noel felt like something inside me was finally free. It was like I was breathing again after almost drowning. In my mind, he would love me no matter who I was, or what I looked like, or if I burped, or made a bad joke. Just knowing this made me feel better. Until yesterday, that is.

  Today, I was out of place and confused. I needed time to regroup. Once, I knew how it felt to love, how every breath felt like pure bliss. The mere thought of closing my heart to all of that triggered the onset of tears. I had thought, for sure, without a doubt in my heart, that we were meant to be together forever. There would be no one that could love me like him, I just knew it. I couldn’t prove it, though. If I thought I could, I would have said something when I saw him kissing that other girl. But I was just a coward.

  How did one go about casting love out of their heart once they had known it? Merek. He always came to my mind when I felt like I was caught in a quandary about Noel. I did feel something like love for Merek. I often reminded myself of that so I wouldn’t feel guilty for loving Noel differently. I chose. I loved Noel first, and he was ripped from my life. I didn’t break up. I didn’t send him away. It was so easy to love him. How could I stop?

  I was on my way to lunch, caught in a haze. Walking like a zombie, staring into space, I edged closer and closer to the cafeteria entrance. I thought I was sorting things out. When I asked myself, I thought, he’s happy with me. He reminded me of when—well, there were some things I was embarrassed to admit to myself. It was just that when Mama was home, I always felt wanted. She would wait for me to get home after school. She always had little snacks for me. Everything at home was connected. I was part of her. I got that feeling with Merek. He waited for me after class. He checked in to see how I was. He called me to make sure I reached home okay.

  Today, Merek seemed more determined than ever to have me to himself every second. He had texted me “Want to steal you for a kiss already” by second period! The bright sunlight from the massive windows in the café brought me back to earth. I picked a quiet spot near the counter with a great view of the avenue. I had so quickly forgotten the order of things. One could think that the A-listers were the leaders, and everyone else aspired. But I was beginning to see things differently. Once I sat down, three other A-list seniors and two A-list juniors sat at the tables closest to mine. A tall, neatly put together girl came to sit at my table. “Hey,” she said.

  “Hi,” I said.

  “I’m Courtney,” she said. Her slightly stained red lips matched her lightly smoky gray eye shadow. She had hair flat-ironed pin-straight and it was dark brown. She reminded me a little of Sierra.

  “I’m Milan. I love your hair. Are you new?” I aske
d.

  “I’m a junior. I just transferred here. I was going to public school in Beverly Hills,” she said.

  Something told me to turn around. Sure enough, when I did I saw Cara and the twins making the approach. I liked my friends, but sometimes I wondered if it would be good to have friends unrelated to my friends.

  “Listen, Courtney, my girls are coming. I have to save them seats.” I looked back at them, and then decided to lay it on the line. “To be honest, they are a little territorial. Me, not so much. I like new. My boyfriend is new.” I really couldn’t believe I was saying this. “We should do coffee sometime, though. Hit me up: @MilanParkAve If you need to phone a friend, being new and all. I have you covered.”

  “Cool,” she said, seeming a little disappointed.

  I was trying to save her.

  “Hi,” Cara threw herself in Courtney’s direction. I shot Courtney a very concerned look. There was something about Cara that was all too overwhelming.

  “Courtney,” I said.

  “How do you guys know each other?” Cara asked.

  “Why?” I asked.

  “Oh,” Cara’s face quickly turned to a grimace. “So you’re leaving.” Cara turned her back to Courtney as if she were insignificant.

  “Ummm, yeah. I guess.” Courtney looked disheartened. Her eyes shifted to the floor.

  “No, why don’t you stay, Courtney? We can all fit.” I smiled.

  “Locker run, sugarplum! I will be back, though,” Cara said.

  “Whatever!” Frenchy said.

  I ignored Cara as she left. I turned my attention back to the kids in the cafeteria and, like clockwork, they stared right back at me—or maybe Courtney. My guess? They wanted to know who the newest girl was to infiltrate the group. Part of me was hoping to save her from this. But she did come over and introduce herself. Maybe this was what she wanted. It was too early to tell. Frenchy looked like she was wondering the same thing.

  Oddly enough, Sierra hadn’t said much yet. Sometimes she didn’t like new people. Everything was always about hierarchy. A little part of me loved the hierarchy. It was what made lunch interesting. Though I can’t remember when I stopped hating it and started loving it. One quick reflection of my face in the spotless window across from our table, where the sun shined from high in the sky, reminded me of why I had hated this all. That was all people saw in me, my reflection. Grossly petrified to admit it, for a moment I ventured deep inside my heart. My heart was still quietly aching. Inside, I felt fear. One of my professors once said that fear was detrimental to all that made us smile. I was a little afraid of being ridiculed and … dethroned. Even though I had not asked to be put on top of the A-list, losing it all would make me … fragile. Just crazy.

  There was a voice inside that wondered if that was just what I needed so people could really see me. Could that be the reason I had signed up for enough AP classes to be a college freshman? I was trying so hard. There were some new things about school. While the uniforms were much the same, the faces looked different.

  “Get a load of the Salem witch trials over here,” Sierra texted me.

  Frenchy had dyed her hair jet black. And stopped all of her Fake Bake. It was a little dramatic. I caught an eyeful of her questioning Courtney, who seemed to be ready to go.

  “I’ll catch up with you soon, Milan,” Courtney said to me as she bolted from the table.

  “What did Frenchy say to her?” I texted Sierra.

  I smiled and said, “It was nice meeting you,” to Courtney. That’s all I could do: smile. I had barely talked to the girl.

  “We’ll talk soon, Courtney!” I winked at her.

  “I think she worried that Courtney was her replacement,” Sierra responded.

  I wondered what Frenchy might do if she broke into Sierra’s phone and read all the texts about her.

  They were both equally smart and pretty—and just as witty, in differing ways. We all had on our silver charm necklaces. Sierra and I had gotten cotton-candy pink manicures the other day. I usually kept my nails long and rounded. Sierra kept hers squared and long. Frenchy had them paint hers vamp-red and cut them down low to the finger tip.

  “I’m getting hungry.”

  “Ditto,” Sierra said.

  “Uh. Here we go again. I thought you had expanded your lame slang repertoire!” Frenchy said.

  “Okay, who’s getting lunch with me? I want a sandwich and maybe two sushi rolls,” I said.

  Some girl covered my eyes. My heart started to pound. I wouldn’t know one thing that anyone said. I ripped them off my face. There was a blue Tiffany’s box on the table in front of me. What was this? Sierra threw me a look of despair. The girl put her hand around the box. I noticed her nails were the same color as Frenchy’s. When she unwrapped the ribbon around the box, I noticed the sunlight caught the heart charm on her bracelet. It was supposed to be silver and lavender, but hers was kind of tainted. Undoubtedly, it had to be Cara.

  She sat next to me. I nearly jumped out of my skin. That bracelet looked strikingly similar to the necklace I had picked out for the twins and me to wear the first day of school. My eyes slowly crept up from the bracelet on Cara’s wrist to her blazer jacket to the necklace—my necklace around her neck!

  “Gonna open it, doll face?” she said. I smiled. Why? Our friendship was peculiar. She was always there, around, somehow. I still didn’t know how she knew I went to the hotel with Merek.

  I reluctantly pulled the lid off what used to be a wonderful sight to see. I gently placed the top over the white ribbon that lay beside the box. There it was: the silver charm bracelet that matched our necklaces. I looked back at Cara. She grabbed her charm necklace. So I did the same. She smirked. Sierra was right. We shouldn’t have gotten one for Frenchy. There was something going on between them.

  “I scooped up one of these for everyone as, like, a gift, you know,” she said. What did that mean … “you know”?

  “Thanks,” I said. I closed the box.

  We were going to have to do something about her. Cece was obviously scared of Cara. I couldn’t say exactly why, but it was everything I didn’t know about her that sent a chill down my back.

  Merek came over to our table. He looked handsome. His hair was cut low in a Mohawk. He had on a crisp pressed short-sleeve shirt and nicely creased black trousers. “Why is your blazer inside out?” I asked him.

  “Like Will Smith.”

  “Babe, Fresh Prince was like 20 years ago.”

  “I saw it last night. I think it’s phat. Plus this looks cool on me. Why are you throwing shade?” he asked.

  “I’m not. I am stating a fact, though.”

  “This is for you.” He handed me a latte, then he gave me a kiss on the lips. He looked me in the eyes expectantly. I should’ve known my role by now.

  “Pumpkin! This is the sweetest,” I kissed him. Then I sipped my latte. It was a perfect mix of pumpkin, caramel, and soy. I had switched my flavor over the summer. I used to be a mocha girl.

  He took hold of my hand. I was relieved. Would he take me away from this world? For a few moments, could I forget my broken heart and drown myself in the guy who wanted to give me his heart? I gracefully stepped down from my chair. I placed my hand through my wristlet clutch handle and I grabbed my cell. Merek put his arm around my waist. He slowly pressed his fingers into my side and swept them across my shirt softly. It kind of tickled. I looked at him and smiled. He looked into my eyes and for a second I felt lost. I felt like maybe I had it all wrong. Was he for me? Maybe I knew nothing about destiny. Maybe my feelings were playing Jedi mind tricks on me.

  I noticed he was moving his fingers across my side in the same motions. 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8, and then again 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8. I felt like he was playing me. “What’s up?” I asked him. He held on to me tightly as we walked to the back staircase.

  “Guitar. I want you to hear me play. You know my lyrics. Let me play for you.” he said. I had to look away.

  “I do know that you p
lay guitar. I … I’m not ready to hear my songs.” Like the most absurd excuse ever! It was a reminder of things I would never be able to do: listen to him play the guitar, hear the sound of his voice, hear the inflections of his accent. Suddenly, I felt so inadequate. Then I thought of Mama, and I quickly snapped out of my realm of self-pity. I had much to be thankful for.

  Had I taken Merek’s love for me for granted in thinking that I would leave him for Noel? People shouldn’t be traded as pawns on a chess board. I didn’t want to grow up and become like Daddy. I was starting to get a headache. I let out a deep sigh.

  “What’s wrong? Why aren’t you ready to hear me play?” Merek asked.

  “Nothing. It’s just the first day of school,” I said.

  “My brother and the band just got back from Cali. We’re practicing later on tonight. Come?”

  This was going to be like me going to a concert and pretending I knew what’s going on. I couldn’t read lips 30 feet away!

  “Baby, I don’t know.”

  “I need my girl there. With you there, I’ll play better. It is going to be all good.”

  “Come play for me at the apartment. Just you and me.” The words just came out of my mouth. I was always compromising. But how could I just say no? I wanted to make my boyfriend happy. I didn’t know anything. Isn’t that what a girlfriend was supposed to do?