Page 76 of Edge of Unbroken

It’s odd that sometimes life is monotonous and other times, the shifts in the universe are palpable. These entire last three days have felt so strange, the world seemingly off-kilter. Steve and Vada’s breakup, Adam’s menacing presence lurking like a shadow—his threats and demands looming over my head—the rumors at school. It makes me want to take a sick day from life.

Vada hasn’t been to school this week, though Tori and I went over to Vada’s house yesterday to provide comfort and help dry her sporadic tears.

I’m in between classes, exchanging textbooks in my locker, when Tori sighs next to me. “I haven’t seen Shay since Saturday. I miss him.” Then her gaze snaps to me, embarrassment causing her big blue eyes to widen. “Ugh, sorry. I’m whining about not having seen my man in seventy-two hours, and you haven’t seen yours in months.”

I wave her off. “It’s not a competition. Although, I’d say if it was, I’d win,” I giggle at her. “But should we maybe grab some dinner at Murphy’s tonight? You could ogle your guy, and I’ll get to eat some yummy food.”

Tori’s face brightens. “That sounds fantastic. Want to head to Vada’s first and then Murphy’s?”

I shake my head at her. “No, I actually can’t make it to Vada’s this afternoon. I have… I have a couple of errands to run. I’ll meet you at Murphy’s? What time does Shane work tonight?”

“Uhh, I haven’t talked to him yet, but I think he starts at five today, but the first half hour he tends to run around like a chicken with its head cut off trying to get a feel for the night. So let’s meet there at five-thirty when he’s simmered down a bit and he knows all his waiters are showing up?”

We agree on the plan, then disperse for our afternoon classes.

As soon as classes let out, I rush home, toss my backpack onto my bed, yank open my closet, and pull out the bag that holds one of my most prized possessions—the beautiful black-and-gold ice hockey skates Ronan gave me for my birthday last year—the day before life as we knew it imploded.

I open the bag and pull out one of the skates. They’re in near-perfect condition; no scuff marks despite my frequent falls, freshly sharpened blades. I’ve been babying them partly because they’re just a beautiful pair of skates with their pristine white laces and the brand name embossed in golden letters, but mostly because they’re the one physical gift Ronan has ever given me. They hold an incredible amount of meaning for me.

I allow myself a moment to live in the past, to feel the feelings sweeping through me in insurmountable waves before I put the single skate carefully back, then sling the bag over my shoulder and leave home.

But I’m not heading to the ice rink to practice. I’m meeting a person I know only as Tillie, and by her online marketplace username hockey_romance_bookdragon17. She was the only person who responded to me when I did the unthinkable and posted my skates for sale when I came home from Vada’s on Sunday.

I did as Adam ordered; once he hung up, I finally put the bag with the gyros on Vada’s bed, went into the bathroom, and took yet another incriminating picture. The moment I hit “send,” I deleted it as well as the text message chain with Adam, desperate to erase any trace of my ongoing betrayal. Luckily, Vada didn’t interrogate me about my phone call, didn’t ask me who I was talking to. She was in no state to pick up on my despair, and I was grateful for it. In fact, Vada’s plight took precedence over my own, and I relished the opportunity to focus on her.

I spent the night at Vada’s, wanting to distract her as well as myself. Unfortunately, I couldn’t sleep at all that night, lying awake, trying to think of a way to come up with a thousand dollars in a matter of days. I do have a little bit of money sitting in my checking account—$659.36 to be exact—which means I’m short less than $350. But my mom won’t deposit my allowance again until the first of the month, and I don’t have a job that could help me supplement, or at least offer my friends the prospect of getting paid back soon if they loaned me the money.

When I left to go home Sunday morning, I was overcome with such suffocating remorse and worry that I’m pretty sure I experienced my first real panic attack. My mom thought it was because of the news my dad had shared the day prior, and that’s at least partially true. Adam is out there; he hurt a girl—badly—but what’s worse is that he’s exerting his power, his control over me, and there’s nothing I can do about it. Not unless I want the world to find out what I’ve done.

I hid myself in my room the rest of the day, quite literally burying myself underneath my blankets, ignoring anything and anyone—including the boy I love. I just couldn’t talk to him. I was convinced he’d hear the betrayal in my voice, would immediately be able to tell what a cheating, conniving, horrible person I am. I’m so scared of hurting him, of losing him.

Eventually, I came up with the outline of a plan to scrounge up the money. I asked my mom for $350 with the excuse that I wanted to buy a new winter coat. In return, I told her she could keep my allowance for February. She didn’t agree to the whole amount, giving me $200 instead. I obviously knew I needed to actually buy a coat, so I spent fifty of that money yesterday on a significantly marked-down wool coat that definitely looks like it could have cost four times as much. But that still left me short. I didn’t have anything of significant value that I thought could fetch me $200 in this short amount of time.

I was aware that hockey skates can be quite expensive, and even though I was extremely reluctant to even consider selling them, I eventually looked up my skates and gasped when I saw that a brand-new pair costs nearly $400. I can’t even properly explain the war that raged inside me as I weighed my options.

If I thought I was betraying Ronan before, I was most certainly doing it now. It took me a long time to hit the “post” button and list the skates for sale, but eventually I did, tears cascading down my face.

Tillie was the only one to bite, offering me exactly the amount I needed to get Adam off my back for now and hopefully forever.

Tillie and I agreed to meet at a small coffee shop—I’m not so stupid as to give out my personal address and I’m certainly not meeting anyone at their home, so a public place it was—and the subway ride is quick, though not quick enough that I don’t find myself getting angry. I’m angry at Adam, obviously, but even angrier at myself. Once again, I ask myself why I’m like this. Why do I allow him to do this to me? Why am I so easily manipulated? I know this entire thing could be shut down if I just made better choices, if I found the courage to come clean. And maybe that’s my way out. Maybe I just need to suck it up and finally tell—on Adam and myself.

Then again, I can only imagine my dad’s reaction. What is he going to say when he finds out that I messed up so badly? And not just once, but over and over and over again.

I spot Tillie immediately—her hair is the same shade of bright pink as it was on her social media—and make a beeline for her. I just want to get this over with; I don’t want to spend too much time holding on to my skates because I fear I won’t be able to hand them over if I think too deeply about what I’m about to do.

I approach the small table where she’s sitting, a small paper cup of some hot beverage in her hands. “Hi, Tillie?”

“Are you Cat?”

I nod, then tap the bag by my side. “I got the goods,” I say, forcing myself to smile even though I feel like crying.

She smiles delightedly. “Do you mind if I take a look?”

I place the bag on the table and pull the zipper open, allowing Tillie to inspect the skates.

“These look great,” she says, then digs in her jeans pocket and pulls out a wad of bills. “One-fifty, right?” she says, already counting out the money.

“Uh, no, I think we had agreed on two hundred.”

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