Broken Read Online Free

like dull butcher blades under her sweater, I slide my phone free of the inner pocket, clicking a few pencils together. I stow the pink thing on my thigh, behind my desk. When someone’s at a desk, looking down with both hands in their lap, you know what they’re doing. I join the ranks of the obvious.
    Bree Ransom , the display screen reads .
    What does she want? We just parted ways about ten minutes earlier. Sighing, I slide the phone open.
    Alex’s in my 1 st hour! He’s H.O.T. & single!
    Well. That answers the girlfriend question I posed earlier. It also makes him extremely eligible in Bree’s mind. A girlfriend would be a speed bump in her acquisitions pursuit, but she is one of the most determined people I know. I’m sure Bree’s wondering if he’s going to the dance this weekend, and if she can get him in a costume. I steal another peek at our hearing impaired teacher before replying to the text.
    His locker’s next to mine.
    Her response must have burned wires somewhere with its speed: LUCKY!
    I silence my phone, slide it shut and slip it back into the little pocket. At the head of the class, Mrs. Johnson waves a marker at the string of gobbledygook numbers and symbols that I’d understand if I had paid attention earlier. I try to force my brain into logic mode—it’s not happening. Ducking my head, I pray to not get called on to solve the equations. Images of Alex stab into the static noise in my head: standing next to my locker, spinning the combination like he’s done it dozens of times before.
    Luck has nothing to do with it.
    #
    Second hour passes in a classical literature fog.
    Given the season, Mr. Hansen is tormenting us with classic horror and Gothic fiction. We’ve read, discussed and acted out bits of Bram Stokers’ Dracula —my favorite book and the reason my cat’s name is Renfield. After watching the second half of the latest Hollywood attempt at capturing the novel, Mr. Hansen reaches around his paunch to hand out Further Reading lists, complete with samples of some of the more popular choices. He looks like he might be salivating with delight, and an errant thought careens through my head: Mr. Hansen dressed as an executioner, pulling a lever...
    On the Further Reading list are Hawthorne, Shelley, Poe, and many others. Our task for the week, according to our teacher, is to choose a title for class reading and use the week to read it. The first week of November, we’re to prepare a thesis and report, comparing and contrasting Dracula with the title of our choosing.
    I run my finger down the list, names blurring into an illegible smudge.
    The bell rings without me making a choice. Looks like I’ll have to visit the library after school. For once, I’ll be doing just what my mother thinks I am.
    Hair down, head down, I leave class and aim for third hour by way of the cat walk between the second floors of the main building and the sports complex. Air whistles in my hair when I open the door, then my heart clenches and throat tightens. Last fall, on a sunny cool day like today, I had met Daniel about three feet from where I stand. Sunshine had beat down, warming the hallway, dissecting the red carpet into swaths of light and shadow, like puddles of new blood bordered by old. Daniel lounged against a metal support, bathed in white light, looking better than any senior should. I was awkward and shy, and a little in awe of him.
    His friend was all in red, from his hair to his shirt to his shoes, reminding me of fire. The guy listened to headphones, music loud, howling along and flailing around.
    Playing the damsel is distress is way passé, but I was a legitimate victim of a dance-by whacking from his oblivious friend and his swinging arms. Daniel whipped off the t-shirt he wore over his thermal undershirt and packed my gushing nose in it. On the way to the office, when the stairs swirled at my face, Daniel saved me from falling. Then, he’d carried me the rest of the way.
    Today I walk in