Page 83 of Broken By the Bad Boy

Minutes later and Gracie is still quiet. I shove my hands into her pockets and wait for her verdict. I am the only one who knows the actual state of things with her. To everyone, she is this bold, sexy cheerleader in control of life. Meanwhile, she is doing her best to survive while clinging to the hope she will be out of the house soon. It’s why she chose a college many states away from this place.

“I’m sorry this is happening to Olivia, but going through bad stuff doesn’t give her the right to be mean to others. If we all treated everyone based on our life situations, none of us would be where we are now.”

Logically, she makes a lot of sense, but emotions and logic don’t work so well. Not in this case.

“That is Olivia’s problem, not mine or yours. And I am so, so, sorry for her unhappiness, but it’s her cross to carry, Benny. Hers alone, alright?” I think I misheard her. She wouldn’t say something so cruel. I look at her face and release another shaky breath. “I don’t want you to be friends with her anymore.”

I stop listening after that first statement. Olivia’s problem. Her cross? I guess it would be my problem alone if I shared my experience. I nod until my head is bobbing like a lizard with a bone stuck in its throat.

“It might not be your problem, Gracie, but it’s mine.” My smile is too sad. I expected more from her. Maybe permission to see Olivia or a promise to apologize while we find the real culprit. If she doesn’t want me to be friends with Olivia, she should at least let me be there for her until this whole thing is over. I can’t leave when Olivia is at the hospital. “Because I understand the pain of watching your parents fall in love with someone else and forgetting you ever existed. It hurts.”

As much as Gracie’s words hurt my heart, they make me remember. I don’t want to remember. I breathe out a sigh. I can’t see her through my tears, but my voice is loud and clear. Life isn’t black and white. There are too many gray areas, and most times, we are stuck in them. She needs to step outside her bubble.

“I understand the pain of being the second, third, or whatever option is available. I understand the pain of always asking yourself where you went wrong. I understand the pain of needing someone to be there for me but having no one. The pain of standing in a crowd but feeling so alone and empty.”

“You can never understand it.” And I say this part with no hate. She wipes the tears rolling down her cheek. “You come from this perfect family, with perfect parents. So, you can’t understand it. But I do. I will be there to support her, even if you don’t want me to. If you refuse to understand that, I have no words for you.” I press the heels of my hands to my forehead. “You hit her, Gracie.”

Without remorse. That is not my girlfriend.

“She has enough bruises under all that makeup.” Like I have enough scars beneath my smile. If this is the only way I can help, I will. For a while after, none of us says a thing. “I’m going to the hospital.”

Forty

I pullthe phone away from my ear, but Maria keeps screaming like a banshee. The video of me hitting Olivia is all over BGC and is the highlight of her day. She says something I don’t hear, and I grunt in reply. She’s excited, but I am not. Not when Ben is upset. I think I fucked up this time.

Maybe I am being paranoid, but I don’t think we will get better even after Ben cools off. I don’t want to believe it’s over for us, but it feels like it is. He picked her over me. To show his support, I guess.

I swipe the back of my hand against my eyes. My eyes sting too much. I want to curl up in bed and cry like a baby. I end the call after a few more moments of false enthusiasm to Maria’s constant teasing. I can’t tell her about Olivia’s family because Ben already feels like shit talking to me about it. He was heartbroken. I massage my temple to stop the growing headache, but it builds. I feel terrible.

Ben’s words play over and over again in my head. It’s a little too much for one person to handle. Her parents’ divorce. Her mother’s boyfriend harassing her. Knowing those things about Olivia doesn’t make me feel as bad as I do when I remember the hurt in Ben’s eyes. He was highly disappointed in me. Then, he talked about feeling so alone and empty in a crowd. I thought I was good for my boyfriend.

If he feels that way when we are together, what kind of relationship do we have?

My red-rimmed eyes lift to the mirror, and I sigh. Mom isn’t home. If only I could hide here for this period. I got off easy because it was my first misdemeanor. I’m usually the perfect student. Taking tired steps to the bathroom, I soak in the bathtub longer than necessary. I must have fallen asleep because I wake up to the sound of rapid knocks from behind the bathroom door.

Mom’s voice comes out small and muffled. “Tessa, are you in there?”

“Yes, Mom.” Wrapping a towel around my chest, I skip to the door and open it. “I’m here.”

She takes a step back to allow me entry into my room. Her rigidity throws me off balance.

Something is wrong.

Mom doesn’t kiss my cheeks, hug me, or ask about my day. Instead, she goes to sit on my bed and smoothens the same surface too many times to count. My hands are shaky as I pull a pair of shorts over my knees. She doesn’t know about Broadway Gossip Column. Does she? She can’t.

She pats a spot on the bed for me to sit, and I tighten my arms around her waist before she speaks. My head rests in the crook of her neck. I don’t want her to be disappointed in me. She’s the only one I have now. Maria and Dad are far away.

“I did something bad today.” Mom freezes, and my eyes close. I don’t want to see her face when she hears about my suspension. I pulled out bits of Olivia’s hair. Whatever possessed me at that moment made me feral. “I’ve been suspended. For a week.”

Mom’s sigh is so heavy it carries around my room. Yeah, she is super disappointed in me.

“I just got off the phone with Mrs. Beckham.” That witch. If she had paid closer attention to her only daughter, she might not have turned out this way. Olivia hurts people because she’s hurt. I am not excusing her or her behavior, but it kind of makes sense. The same logic applies to Noah. They are probably friends because of their shared experiences. “Olivia needed seven stitches.”

“Oh my God,” I gasp.

It didn’t look so bad. There was blood. Lots of it, but I figured it must have been an exaggerated cut.

“Yes, her mom is pissed. Your dad took care of the bills. They will not be pressing charges.” Mom squeezes my hands. I prepare for the verbal lashing. “Did this happen because of Ben?”

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