Broken Read Online Free Page B

used to having to rein her in. “I’m meant to be the mentor, remember?”
    Nessa freezes in midstride. Slowly she pivots to face Jordan. From the look she gives him, it’s clear they know each other well. Jealousy stabs my gut as I wonder exactly how well.
    “Well, Mr. Junior-big-shot-mentor, if you’re so smart, then why didn’t you save—”
    Celina jumps up, slapping her palm down between the two of them. “Stop it, both of you. Just stop it.”
    Nessa heaves in a breath as if the air in the room is suddenly too heavy. Jordan doesn’t look so good either, blinking furiously like he has something in his eyes, but he doesn’t take his gaze off Nessa, as if he’s worried she’ll vanish.
    I have no idea what they’re talking about, but it’s clear that it’s painful and very, very personal. Just as it’s obvious that beneath Nessa’s incessant chatter lies a deep well of anger and sadness. Suddenly I wonder if I have any support to offer that would be helpful. Not like I have much experience with, well, anything outside of hospitals.
    Celina sits back down and says in a calm voice, “It’s Scarlet’s first day. We should be focused on her, not on—not on things we can’t change.”
    Jordan pulls his gaze away from Nessa and gives Celina a small nod and even smaller smile, which surprises me because she’s doing his job, taking control of the situation and playing the peacekeeper. But it works. Nessa relaxes and beams at Celina in another abrupt shift of emotion.
    Me, I just sit there, clueless. And fascinated.
    As I take them all in, practically seeing the delicate threads of power and pain connecting and interlacing in an intricate web, I realize how woefully unprepared the hospital has left me for the drama that is high school.
    Forget algebra and chemistry. I need a remedial course on people.

9
    Before anyone can move or say anything, the door opens and a man enters. He’s thirty-something, cute in an older-guy kinda way, reminds me of one of my consultants, a specialist in cardiac electrophysiology. Genius but so caught up in his life of chaotic cardiac electrical impulses that he walked around oblivious to the rest of the world. His hands were the coldest and clammiest of them all—he never looked me in the eyes once. If he could have cut out my heart and taken it with him to study, not bothering with the inconvenient body surrounding it, he would have.
    “Oh good, you got started without me,” the man says with a wide smile, plopping himself down in the chair at the head of the narrow table and leaning it so far back I’m worried it’s about to tip.
    He wears a dress shirt, tie, suit trousers, but has red socks and a pair of canvas sneakers on, also red. Like he’s watched too many Dr. Who reruns. His accent isn’t English, but it’s not ragged central Pennsylvania either. Instead it’s flat, like he’s washed it clean of any trace evidence. “And, Scarlet, welcome, welcome! Have you all introduced yourselves?”
    The others nod. The man doesn’t seem to realize that he hasn’t introduced himself to me, but I’m not dumb. This must be Mr. Thorne, the counselor who’s meant to guide me through the labyrinth of my sophomore year.
    Thorne fiddles with his pen, clicking it and twirling it, beaming his smile at each of us in turn as if assessing the weather.
    Cloudy with a chance of thunderstorms is my assessment. Thorne bounces his chair, tipping ever farther back, making me catch my breath as I wonder if I should say something, and his smile grows wider. Cocky, even.
    “Let me catch you up, Scarlet,” he says, and I realize that although I was clueless, Nessa had actually been mimicking him earlier. And doing a pretty good job of it. “These groups are carefully composed, members chosen to help address certain strengths and weaknesses that came to light when I reviewed the incoming sophomores’ records. Our job here, together, is to bolster those strengths and work on those