Broken Read Online Free Page B

twinge of guilt pinches my heart. A ghost of Daniel’s memory glides behind my eyes. I don’t need to look at another guy, especially Alex Franks, when I have perfect memories.
    Shaking my head, I schlep along the queue of shocked faces, then pause by his shoes.
    Alex wears a bemused smile in the shadows of his hood.
    “Thanks.”
    He nods. “No worries.”
    The strange tunneling sensation strikes again when his eyes meet mine. Under the garish bright lights, it’s easy to see their color, a rich hazel. Then he blinks, ducks deeper into the fabric surrounding his face and adds, “If you’re really grateful, you can save me a seat.”
    Shock leashes my tongue. It’s not strong enough to muzzle some of the harpies with their sights obviously set on Alex, though. Hisses of in-drawn breaths remind me of vipers in movie scenes of Egyptian tombs. A couple of unkind things are muttered. Lots of heavily painted eyes glare daggers at me. I’m tempted to give them all the middle finger.
    “Not sure about grateful, but I’ll save you a seat,” I say, then toss my wet hair over my shoulder and claim my spot behind Bree nearly at the head of the line.
    “Well, well,” she simpers. “Looks like someone has a crush.”
    “What are you talking about?”
    “Hellooo.” She scoops up a tray and turns into the alcove containing hot foods. I snag a tray and follow. “First he stops and openly stares at you, then he asks to sit with you for lunch?”
    “Yeah,” I say, layering sarcasm into my voice. “I’m sure he’s talked to lots of other girls in a friendly manner, too.”
    “Not that I’ve seen. He hardly talked to anyone in first hour.” She loads her tray with French toast sticks, tater tots and applesauce. I opt for tots and apple sauce—my stomach hasn’t liked me since memory caught up to ogling, and I wrenched my gaze from Alex’s back pockets. Bree pauses at the drinks cart, tosses a causal look toward the line where he clutches a tray. “Normally introverts don’t take theater and drama. Someone must’ve screwed up his schedule. And for not crushing on you, he sure looks at you enough.”
    I jab her in the back with my tray, hard enough for her to gasp and stage whisper a cussword. Despite my will to stay loyal to Daniel’s memory, I find myself peeking over my shoulder. The shadows of Alex’s hood aim directly at me. I’m not sure, but I think there’s a ghost of a smile hiding in there, too.
    Forcing my eyes back to my lunch, I grab a water bottle, and traipse after Bree.
    The wretched brown/beige/pukey pink color scheme of the locker rooms repeats in the cafeteria and the bathrooms, basically any place at risk of getting wet has the horrible vomit-colored mini-tiles. We weave between battered faux wood tables crammed with people shoveling food, or picking at it, or sitting there drinking Diet Coke like that’s enough for them. Cliques spill in puddles from the food service doors; the In Crowd, the Sports Crowd, the Out Crowd, and the Thespians. Being Bree’s best friend, I’m an honorary theater nerd. Plus, I’ve been to every performance since we moved here in ninth grade.
    “Wassup, Em?” asks Bree’s friend Jason Weller, pretty in a not-interesting way, and normally the leading male role in any Shelley High theater production. “You going to the dance this weekend? I hear Bree has some kickass costumes picked out for you guys.”
    “I don’t know.” I turn it around on him. “What’s she dressing you as?”
    “Oh…” His smile is perfectly practiced when he feigns interest in buffing his nails on his sleeve. “We have a theme this year. It will be ah-mazing.”
    With Jason, everything good is “ah-mazing.” And for a straight guy, he has damn good taste. Well, not in girlfriends. When it comes to girls, his taste is somewhere between airhead and bitch. But I don’t judge...
    “Maybe, then.”
    Bree’s pink clad arm snaps across the table and she smacks Jason’s shoulder.