Page 1 of His Heart

Part I

Hope is a dream

the young cling to

the old yearn for

but only the broken understand

~B

1

Brooke

January. Age sixteen.

It wasall I could do to simply survive.

High school, to be specific. Phoenix wasn’t any different than the other places I’d lived. No matter how many times my mom moved us around, no matter how many schools I went to, they were all the same. Ruled by a hierarchical social structure as stratified as the caste system. Everyone knew their place, and the only safe place was at the top.

Which was the opposite of where I existed.

But the day was over, the last class finished. Some kids hurried outside to catch the bus, or simply to put as much distance as possible between themselves and this prison of a building. Others lingered in the hallway, gossiping with friends, making plans.

Most kids had somewhere else to go that was better than school. Home. Sports practice. A club meeting. A job. I didn’t. I took my time, walking alone toward my locker, my eyes on the ground. I wasn’t athletic by any definition of the word, and bouncing around from school to school made it hard to get involved in any activities. I was too quiet to make friends easily.

I was the weird girl. Funky clothes. Blue and pink streaks in my dark brown hair. Always sitting in the back of the class, scribbling in a notebook. I wasn’t shy, necessarily. I’d just given up trying. It was hard to work your way into an established group of friends. And anyway, by the time I did, my mom would always move us again. So I tried to ignore the social goings-on of high school life. It was January, and I was a junior. That meant eighteen months until graduation. Eighteen months until I would be free. I could make it.

A group of girls stood on the other side of the hallway, across from my locker. The Mean Girls. They wore the label with pride. They even had matching MG stickers on the backs of their phone cases. Since moving here, I’d kept under their radar. I was beneath most people’s notice.

But for some reason, the Mean Girls had started to pay attention to me. They stood close together, leaning in to speak in low voices, their eyes on me. I quickly put in my locker combination so I could get out of their line of sight.

“I don’t know what’s up with her shoes,” Karina Bowen said, making no effort to keep me from hearing.

I stopped myself from looking down at my shoes—worn-out blue Converse. I didn’t want to acknowledge that I’d heard her comment.

“I can’t even with those jeans,” Harmony Linwood said. Karina’s right-hand bitch. Those two were never far apart. The others huffed and made noises of agreement and disgust. Tapped manicured fingernails. Rolled eyes caked in makeup.

I kept my gaze on my locker and shoved a few books into my bag. Ignore them, Brooke. Just ignore them.

“Hey, Brooke,” Karina said. “You know, there’s a thrift store that’s walking distance from here. Might improve your look. Just a tip, sweetie.”

Giggles. As if that was such a clever thing to say.

Still, my cheeks flushed hot and I bit the inside of my lip. Anger that my red face was going to betray me when I turned around mixed with the shame they were so good at dishing out.

More whispers and giggles.

“Oh, of course she’s a fucking lesbian,” Karina said. “Anyone can see that. And it’s probably a good thing. What guy would date her?”

I could feel eyes on my back, burning into me like red-hot brands. I balled my hands into fists.

“Hey, Brooke.”

The male voice startled me and I glanced up to find Liam Harper leaning casually against the locker next to mine. Blue eyes, careless dark blond hair, and a smile that would have made me feel fluttery and weak even if I was a lesbian. Which I wasn’t. Especially when Liam Harper was around.

But why was he talking to me?

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