Page 13 of Pretty Broken Things

“Is this you making a statement?” Ford asks. His body language is languid, arms stretched over the back of the chairs next to him, legs spread wide. I notice he hasn’t touched his lunch, which is his own, not the school provided brown bag.

“Honestly, I didn’t think that far ahead. All of a sudden I just couldn’t deal with all the phony bullshit anymore,” I admit.

Without saying another word he extends his leg, and kicks out a chair across from him. I’m stunned at his easy acceptance and wait for it to be revealed to be a joke.

“Are you waiting for a written invitation? Sit your ass down,” Shane barks.

I drop into the offered chair, and set my tray down on the table. The conversation picks back up as if I didn’t shake the social foundation this school is built on.

“Are you coming?” Tracy asks me, and I realize I’ve zoned out of the conversation.

“To what?” I ask, because I can’t even fake my way through this conversation I’ve been so out of it.

“After school we’re going to Shane’s grandpa’s house. We chill there sometimes. He’s got a whole set up for Shane, and it’s nice going somewhere with adults who give a shit,” she explains.

“Yeah, I’ll come,” I say, trying not to sound too emotional.

It doesn’t escape Ford’s notice, and he gives me a slight nod. Maybe I shouldn’t feel a sense of belonging here with his friends, but I feel more myself than I ever have before.

ChapterSix

Ford

“Where are we going?I can follow,” Tessa says, standing next to her bright blue BMW convertible.

I pull my shades halfway down my nose to really get a look at her car, which she pulled around to park near us as soon as the last bell rang. “You want to drive that, to the Park?”

“Bad idea, honey badger,” Shane agrees.

“Honey badger?” she asks, tapping the toe of her designer heels on the asphalt.

Shane shrugs, totally nonplussed. “You’re cute, but strike me as violently crazy.”

“Lovely,” she deadpans.

“I can shorten it to just Honey, if you’d rather,” Shane teases.

Tessa shakes her head, her dark hair swinging around her shoulders. “I really wouldn’t. In fact if you call me honey, I’ll plant my stiletto up your ass. Feel me, pretty boy?”

A smug grin spreads into a full-blown smile, letting his shallow dimples make an appearance. “Hear that, QB? Tessa here thinks I’m pretty.”

“Give it a rest, Shane. Everyone thinks you’re pretty, and you know it,” Tracy says as she struts over to Tessa’s car. “By the way, I call shot gun,” she announces, and climbs in.

“Trace, she can’t take this car there,” I insist.

“You have insurance?” Lydia asks Tessa.

“Yeeeeeah,” she draws out. “Am I going to need it? I know the Park is rough, but aren’t you guys like big deals there?”

A growl rumbles in my chest. There isn’t any kind of organized crime in the Park. That would imply there was money to be made there. I’m sure there are more than a few clients of local meth dealers, but most of the crime in Jefferson Park comes from domestic situations. “Look, there’s not a string of car thefts, but this car is like waving a red flag in front of a bull. It’s too much to pass up for someone desperate enough to risk stealing it in broad daylight.”

“Do you drive?” she asks Tracy.

“I know how, if that’s what you’re asking, but I don’t have a car,” Trace replies.

Tessa tosses her keys to her. “Well, I do have really good insurance, and you only live once, right?”

She looks back at me over her shoulder. “It’s only stuff, Ford. God knows I have way too much of that, and not enough of what I actually need.”

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