Page 5 of Breaking Emilee

“Oh yes, I apologize. Here are my classroom rules, syllabus, and a copy of the book we have just started reading before the Christmas break.” She rambles while whirling around the room. She looks like a tornado of shawl, shirt, and long grayish-brown hair.

Going to sit at her desk, she pulls out a clipboard and looks over the sheet of paper on the front. I start looking around, wondering where there is an empty seat, I can sit in. The bell rings, making me jump. Students start walking in just as Mrs. Crawford tells me she has a seating chart. “The only open seat is next to Emilee,” She points out. I turn around, and everything goes quiet because Emilee looks up simultaneously as if she thinks someone is talking to her. Now I see why she wasn’t paying any attention to Christian or Vanessa. She has headphones in her ears.

My breath catches in my throat when my eyes take her in. She has a round face, scattered with a few pimples that she hasn’t tried to hide with makeup, and I can see a few freckles lining her nose. When she pulls the hood down, I can tell her black hair is dyed because the roots are dark brown. It’s drawn into a tight small ponytail at the back of her head. Her brown eyes make my brain short-circuit and stop working along with my ears. They look just like melted milk chocolate, with a hint of green, but behind the beautiful color is a world of hurt and pain.

People say that the eyes are the windows to the soul. If that is the case, and I’m looking into her soul, I can see how burnt, stomped on, and broken it is. There is something inside her begging to be put back together. Which speaks to something inside me that wants to do just that. How can people look her in the eyes and not see that she is hurting?Unlike Christian and Vanessa’s opinion about this girl, mine is the opposite. She’s beautiful to me, but I can tell that she believes what everyone says about her. Especially when she drops her gaze as soon as she notices no one is talking to her.

I walk forward and place my book on the table, dropping my bag between her chair and what will now be mine. I instantly see her whole body stiffen, and she moves away a little bit. She reminds me of the old alley cat we rescued last year, scared and timid. The fury coursing through my body now is unlike anything I’ve experienced. I’m pissed at the individuals who are doing this to her. This deep-seated reaction over a stranger is a mystery to me and scares me a little. Swallowing around the lump in my throat, I hold out my hand and say, “Hey, I’m Parker.”

It takes her a minute, and I can see the worry in her eyes as she stares at my outstretched hand. She looks from my hand and my face twice before placing her hand in mine. Ever since her eyes met mine, my body has had that feeling you get when your hand falls asleep and is trying to wake up. When her palm slides against mine, that tingling feeling morphs into an intense spark. One that moves up my arm and all over my body. I can tell she feels it, too, because an almost silent gasp falls from her parted lips as she pulls her hand back too soon for my liking. As she moves away from me, I get a whiff of mango, and my mouth waters. Swallowing so I don’t make a fool out of myself by literally drooling over her, I just stare at the side of her head like an idiot.

“I’m Emilee. If you want to make any friends at this school, you shouldn’t be seen talking to me,” she quietly says, staring at the table, her voice low and broken.

I don’t have time to reply as a second bell rings, and Mrs. Crawford starts to read the morning announcements. I sit here staring at her while she pulls a book from the bag at her feet. I know I look like a creep, but I can’t tear my eyes away from her. I’m stunned by this girl. I wonder what she looks like when she smiles. How I would give anything to remove the hurt from her eyes. I have had a few crushes and even a couple of girlfriends, but I have never been so instantly drawn into someone like I am her. I know I will do anything to make this girl talk to me and touch me again. If a simple handshake has my body reacting like that, what else could she do? My dick twitches, and I try to discreetly adjust myself. I use all my willpower to force myself to look ahead, but it’s all a lost cause.

CHAPTERFOUR

As soon as the song I’m listening to changes, I hear Mrs. Crawford say my name. Raising my head, I look straight into the clearest blue eyes I’ve ever seen. My heart starts to race, which is the only sound I can hear now. I’m unsure if it’s because of the boy staring at me with wide eyes or because my morning has already sucked.

When he sits down beside me, I think I have my answer. I don’t know what is going on, but I feel like something is crawling all over me as our eyes stay locked. As soon as our palms touch, a warmth spreads up my arm. It feels like I just stuck it by a roaring fire after being out in the cold all day. I have never had this type of experience before, but I have read about it plenty of times, attraction. As I turn away and look down at my hands, I can feel his eyes on me. My body heats up even more. I feel like I’m being consumed by fire as his eyes roam my body. I keep my face down so he can’t see me blushing and try to make myself smaller by folding in on myself.

I can tell he’s fit by how his black t-shirt hugs his broad shoulders and stretches to fit his biceps when they flex as he shakes my hand. I’m tall at five foot eleven inches, but he’s taller. I figure he has to be around six foot three inches. He has his wavy hair pulled up into a messy bun. I usually don’t think men look good with long hair, but it fits this guy perfectly. He wears a leather jacket that looks to be broken down by actually wearing it, not done by a machine. He also smells different than the other boys in this school. While they reek of axe spray or like they just stepped out of Abercrombie and Fitch. His is more like leather and, funny enough, the fresh linen candle I have in my room.

His voice keeps playing on repeat in my mind. “Hey, I’m Parker.”

* * *

That was days ago. Eight days of trying not to lean into the pull I feel with Parker. Every day he sits there and tries to get me to talk to him, but I haven’t said one word. I physically can’t speak to him or even look at him. I sit there with my body burning up for the whole hour because he never takes his eyes off me. I’m not sure how but Vanessa has already glued herself to his side. That first day as soon as the bell rang, I saw her waiting for him outside the door. How she got from her class to ours so fast is a mystery to me. When she notices where he gets up from, she shoots me a nasty look and mouths fat ass. I overheard her telling him she felt terrible that he had to sit next to me and hoped my smell didn’t make him sick.

Seeing that she obviously knows him makes me more determined not to fuck up the following days. I’m extra careful and make sure that I have everything I need with me. I return to what I usually do and hide in the library until I’m almost late for class. Also, I try my damnest to ensure I’m out the door and headed to my next class as soon as the bell sounds. Yes, it means I have to walk past her most days, but I can’t stand sitting there next to him feeling like I am. Nothing good will ever come from me wanting him. I have never been so turned on in my life as I have sitting next to him every day. None of the crushes I’ve had before has been as intense as this one.

It bothers me that he hangs out with her, and I assume Christian as well. I wonder if it’s because of them being friends with him and not me or if it’s more that I can’t be his. If I’m honest with myself, I will never be the girl someone picks to be friends with or anything else. Vanessa is beautiful, and I’m not. No one in their right mind would pick me if they could have her. Plus, I notice the other girls in class checking him out, and I can’t compete with all of them.

Usually, when I’m in the library, I sit in the furthest corner, away from the door and the windows. I pass the time with my nose in a book. However, that all changed Friday when Mr. Snow threw a wrench in my plans. He’s my current events teacher and assigned us to review news articles we find on our social media accounts. The only problem is that I don’t have an account on any platform. When he asks us if we all have one, we can use, I can’t hide that I don’t. He informs me that my first assignment is to set one up on either Twitter or Facebook. That earns me a few laughs, and the word nerd is thrown around by the other students. I know they don’t understand why someone in this modern age wouldn’t use social media. But why would I put myself out there for random people on the internet to laugh at me.

I prefer not to leave assignments to the last second, but I have no other choice with this one. I can’t finish it at home, so I have to use my time in the morning to make sure the reviews are done. My grades have to be the best they can be. My only way out of this town and away from these people is to attend an out-of-state college. I can only afford that if I get a good scholarship. That’s why I’m risking the very people I don’t want to find me finding me on this Tuesday morning. The computers in the library are in the middle of the room. There are six of them, two on the sides and one at the end of the table. When they built the school, they put windows along the front of the room, not facing the outside but facing the hallways. Anyone walking by can see what’s going on inside.

Sitting down, I type in my username and password into Facebook. When I made the profile Friday, I ensured that my settings were set to private. That way, no one can see anything. I know I’ll never use it as everyone else does. My profile picture is staring back at me, a generic black rose I found online. Under friends, there are zero names, I sent my teacher a request just so he knew I made the account, but he can’t accept it. I know that number will never change because no one will send me a request, and I will never send one to anyone. One day, when I’m far away from this town, I can use it to connect with people. When that day comes, it will be welcomed, but until then, I’ll just deal with the fact that I’m utterly alone.

As I search through the news accounts I follow, I look for a short story, something easy to review. I hear the sweet librarian behind me telling someone they need to sign the sheet on her desk in order to use a computer. I pick up my earphones off the front of my hoodie where they’re lying and put them in my ears. God knows I don’t want to talk to anyone, not that they would try to talk to me anyway. Weight of the World by Citizen Solider starts playing through my ears. I fight back a yawn trying to focus on the screen.

All this scrolling is making my wrist hurt. I accidentally cut too deep last night, and the results of that hurt worse today. I hate the weekend. They are horrible in every which way possible. Not only am I home twenty-four-seven cleaning every room, but I also watch my brothers leave to do whatever they want. The only day I can go anywhere is Sunday to buy the groceries for the week. I usually go to the grocery store in the neighboring town to get what we need because I don’t want to risk seeing Christian or Vanessa. Plus, my uncle works there it’s approved by my grandparents. Since our small town only has one grocery store, it’s safer to assume they will be there. However, this past Sunday, my plans were changed. Adam needed to use the truck we shared, so I had to hurry so he wouldn’t bitch and possibly get me yelled at. Before I can stop it, I’m assaulted with a flashback.

Walking out of the store with the bags of food, I round the corner and stop in my tracks. Leaning up against the side of the store are the two people I work so damn hard to avoid. Sighing, I continue walking to the back of the truck, trying to act like I’m not paying attention to them. Hoping with everything in me that they just go away. As I turn to grab the last bag from the cart and put it in the truck’s bed, I hear their footsteps to my left behind me. Fuck Me.

“I see how you look at Parker, and you might as well let that thought go out the window,” Vanessa says as I turn around, not noticing how close she is. We are face to face; she is so close that I can smell what she ate for breakfast. After a second, I take a step back. I can’t stand being that close to her, but she just steps forward, staying in my face.

“His mom is dating my uncle, and he is mine. I would hate to make him see who you really are, Emilee. I’m serious stay the fuck away from him. Switch seats with someone else in your English class. Do whatever you need to do. Stay away from him. What makes you think he would want someone like you anyways.” She sneers while pushing my shoulders hard. I’m standing on the right side of the trailer hitch attached to the truck’s bumper. As she pushes me again, I stumble back and hit the ball that is used to attach a trailer. Falling, I try to grab onto the truck’s tailgate, but my palm is wet with sweat, and I can’t find a grip. I hit the ground hard, intense pain shoots up my back, and down my legs making me groan.

Christian pulls out his phone and snaps pictures of me sprawled out on the pavement. Laughing, he asks her if she thought the news would report the earthquake my fall must have caused. I get up and, as carefully as possible, dust the ass of my pants off, wincing when I try to use my right hand. I need to get the hell out of here, so I step around them while they are busy laughing at the picture. I grab the last bag throwing it in the back of the truck, not caring if what is in it breaks. I can see their mouths moving, but I can’t hear them over the beat of my heart in my ears. Pushing the cart away from me so hard it hits the side of the building, I walk around the front of the truck, trying my hardest not to cry.

Christian beats me to the driver’s side door, where he places his right hand on it to stop me from opening it. Leaning close to me, his nose practically touches mine. He slowly states, “Unless you want everyone to know the real reason you’re living with your Grandparents, I’d do as she says. I’ll tell everyone, Emilee, then maybe you will finally leave this town.” He grabs my wrist and pulls up the sleeve while I try to pull it down simultaneously. “Next time, do us all a favor and cut deeper. End it all, no one loves you, and no one will ever love you.” He laughs as I try to pull my arm back from him, but he just digs his nails in, taking a picture of my cuts. I can see the blood forming from his nails’ puncture wounds in my arm.

When he’s finally done and lets me go, Vanessa comes around the truck behind me and pushes my head so hard against the window that my vision starts to go black. A car pulls into the open spot to the left of us, making them release me. This gives me enough time to open the door, get in, and lock it. They turn and say something to the couple getting out of the car while I start the truck. As I back out of the parking space, Christian acts like he’s cutting his arms, and she flips me off.

When I got home, I see that the back of my left knee, the wrist Christian grabbed, and the left side of my head are starting to bruise. My right wrist, which I landed on when I fell, is starting to swell slightly. I can deal with all the physical pain, but the emotional pain of their words and actions hurts the worst. Alone in my bathroom, after everyone else has gone to sleep, I almost do what he told me to. My will to live is crumbling. I’m getting less scared of the unknown and more afraid of living to see the next day.

Shaking my head, I need to stop living in the past because I can feel my pulse racing, and I don’t want to get worked up again. Sighing, I see a short article on one of the pages that looks easy to summarize. I pull up Microsoft word and start to type out my summary. I pay no mind to the person that must have sat down while I was in the past. How long have they been sitting there? Why weren’t they using the computer?I can only see them from the corner of my eyes, but I don’t look directly at them. I don’t want to see who’s witnessing me being a mess. It shocks the shit out of me when a hand reaches out and takes an earbud out, cutting off my music.

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